I had a friend in high school who insisted Mountain Time was a conspiracy. She didn’t know anyone from Mountain Time or in Mountain Time, nothing she bought or owned was made in Mountain Time, and she declared it was just a cover for the government to spend millions on the “rocky mountains” without accountability. By the end of junior year we all used “Mountain Time” as shorthand for something that shouldn’t exist, or that should exist and didn’t, like, “Oh no man, I forgot to do my homework, it’s in Mountain Time.”
In 1987 or so, I started claiming this to be the case with Portugal. So, the Portugese had a reputation for piracy. (Or perhaps privateering.) And my theory is: It was the Spanish, and then they wanted a cover story.
spain: Oh, no, your ships weren’t raided by Spanish ships. It was the Portugese. everyone else: They spoke Spanish. spain: haha, no. They were speaking Portugese. It just sounds like Spanish. everyone else: Where exactly is this “Portugal” then? spain: oh, it’s… uhm… between us and the ocean. Just a little strip of land. You’d hardly notice it if it weren’t for all the pirates. everyone else: that sounds fake but okay. (updates maps)
I’ve since been informed by people whose native language is probably Spanish or maybe Portugese that this sounds pretty likely.
Tags:
#unreality cw #storytime #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog
i think the most wholesome prank i ever pulled was with a friend who had a polaroid camera and we were out one evening walking around the neighbourhood and this one neighbour had a garden gnome and we kidnapped him for the evening and took a bunch of polaroids of his wild night out: gnome on the swing set, gnome climbing a tree, gnome laying down next to an empty bottle of vodka, gnome just causing an absolute ruckus and then we took all the pictures and put them in a little see-through food storage bag to keep them dry and put them under the gnome who we left on the doorstep of the house we got him from
anyway a few nights later we walked past again and wondered if the photos had been found and what the person must have thought and then we saw the gnome in pride of place balanced on the window ledge, and stuck to the inside of the window behind him were the polaroids with a sign saying “The Boy On Tour”
specifically, my mother took me to REI, to get new boots (i refuse to wear anything besides hiking boots. ostensibly, i need the support they offer my feet. in reality, i have never worn a good shoe that wasn’t a hiking boot and i have no idea.)
as it happened, i had no clue there was anything wrong with my old boots and remain somewhat unconvinced, but my mother was paying so i was happy enough to go to the store and try on a bunch of shoes
it was one of those shoe shopping trips. you know the ones. you put on a dozen pairs of shoes and instantly know they’re not right. your mother crows about how good they look and how they’ll get broken in, but you know. they’re not right. they’ll never be right. no amount of breaking in will fix it.
we were growing weary. the baby kept disappearing among the racks when we turned away for mere moments, and my mother had to go find him, usually in a pile of stuff he’d pulled down to play with. i didn’t come on those expeditions, because my foot is still injured—i need to conserve the few steps i have every day. the baby, at least, had a great time. he’s two and speaks only russian, and is this something of a terror to have in stores.
the moment i found the right boots was – how do i put this – climactic.
i slipped my foot into it and before i’d even tied the laces i knew. this was my boot. (my boot had been taken off a display area, so i only had the one. i rushed to ask an employee for a pair to it.)
the world, which i had been ignoring to try on boots, came back to me. i was desperately thirsty. my mother wanted to go home. the baby had disappeared again.
none of this came near the raw euphoria of finding he right boots. for long minutes, i couldn’t bear to take them off to buy them.
after i got home, the box sat in my room all evening. from the moment i woke up in the morning (okay, at 1:56pm), the box stared at me, taunting me. i wanted to put them on, i planned how i would put them on, but i couldn’t do it.
after several hours i gathered the rest of my outfit. in another hour, i put it on, followed, reverently, by the boots.
i started to clean my room, first taking out the trash, and found myself sorting my recycling.
it was then that i knew for certain that these were the boots. only god or new boots could compel me to sort my recycling, and i’m an atheist.
Tags:
#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #clothing
Tell Miles, the wind whispers, that he’s a little bitch.
It’s only through years of long practice that Dyta’s able to keep a straight face. The King’s name is Miles? Everyone just sort of assumed he was named after his great grandfather, King Raymus since that’s what he’s written all over the kingdom. She tries to remember if she’s ever heard of a Prince Miles–
“Well?” King Raymus (Miles) asks. He looks down his nose at Dyta, thin lips thinning further. His knuckles are white around his gaudy scepter. “What did the Wind say? Will my reign be remembered? Am I truly the greatest King across the six kingdoms?”
There’re actually 208 kingdoms, the wind hisses out from underneath the door. Which Miles would know if he weren’t a little bitch.
“Yes,” Dyta blurts out. The guards’ glares have been growing each moment she’s been silent and she’s not interested in finding out at what point they use the spears they’re holding. “Super remembered.” She brings her hands up, trying to gesture just how remembered the King is, but the shackles around her wrists hinder the movement. “The wind knows your truth, King Raymus, and it spreads that truth across the globe.”
You never interpret correctly, the wind whines through the gaps in the stone walls. You are the worst wind-speaker I’ve met in centuries.
Dyta’s the only wind-speaker in centuries. That’s why she’s in this whole prisoner mess to begin with. It’s just luck that King Mi-Raymus is vain enough to spend the majority of her captivity asking after what the world thinks of him.
There are much worse applications of her ability. Spying, for example. And assassination, though she tends to stay away from that one, much to the wind’s chagrin.
tattoo artist who can encode magic into tattoos but doesn’t want people to know she can so she just puts low-level luck spells on her clients’ bodies without telling them
jeweller who makes body jewellery and pendants which have amulet properties and draw love and luck and happiness to their wearers without them realising it
piercing artist who keeps the remnants from her piercings and puts them all in little jars in the back of her shop to work sympathetic luck spells on all her clients
and then all three of them slowly realise what the others are doing and end up in a poly relationship living in a little shop in the shitty end of town, which gets curiously less shitty the longer they stay, and people think it’s just the development of the area but the three artists know
and they’re never rich and they’re never famous but they’re always happy because they have everything they need
they have the shop and they have their customers and they have each other
and when their customers are happy and content, they pack up and move on, all together now, to find another space with skin to be coloured and jewellery to be made and magic to be done.
DETROIT – The three body modification artists were arrested today on charges of voluntary manslaughter after a past client suffered a fatal stroke, allegedly due to thaumo-alchemical interactions between her prescribed potions and a luck charm that had been placed on one of her tattoos without her knowledge.
…
“Some potions and drugs are known to react with common charms, which is why it is absolutely essential that your doctor and pharmacist have a complete and accurate list of your active enchantments,” says pharmacist Patricia Patil. “Putting an enchantment of any kind, no matter how minor, on someone without their knowledge or permission is playing Russian Roulette with someone else’s life.”
…
The victim, Carmen Jackson, was 36 at the time of her death and is survived by a husband and 4 children.
“#death tw #yes this #I did not think this *exact* thing #but I did wonder why we were assumed to sympathise with people tricking others into taking spells”
Because consent isn’t part of our cultural narrative. Patriarchalism is – people assumed to be “wiser” doing what’s Best for other people without needing input from those stupid lower-class people who would reject the help out of fear and superstition and who never know what’s Actually Good for them.
Us, the lower classes and poors in this country, we know we’re shat on, but it’s still a long row to hoe challenging this internalized narrative, that if somebody who Knows Better than you (upperclass, educated, ~the Wise~) is doing what’s Good for you, they don’t need your consent or even to tell you what’s going on.
In skiffy, there’s a trope of the person who has to Decide The Fate Of Others angsting about it, feeling unworthy, actually addressingthe fact that they’re making big honkin’ decisions about people’s lives without their consent… but the angst isn’t about whether the decisions should be made (and in skiffy there generally isn’t time or any achievable way to get everybody’s input), but over whether THE PERSON ANGSTING is “worthy”, is Wise enough, because they weren’t brought up to feel that deciding the fate of others is their job, they feel it’s the job of those higher up the totem pole who’ve done the deciding on the person’s own fate. If they had more time, the ability to consult, it’s not suggested that they should take the opinions of the people whose lives will be affected, but of their superiors who have more of a “right” to fuck with people’s situations.
Perhaps so, although I distrust anything involving the word “internalised” for actually pretty much the same reason: it tends to carry a very similar note of “we know you better than you know yourself, if you disagree with us on what’s Actually Good for you it’s only because you lack insight* into your problems”. There’s no defence against a charge like that. (You’d think “I’m second-generation social justice; sure, I had some contact with other, patriarchal subcultures, but I’m not a proverbial fish and my native tongue does have a word for water (you should know, it’s the tongue you’re speaking now)” would have at least some effect, but nobody ever really seems to notice when I say that. Besides, we born-and-raised types are rare enough that everyone else routinely forgets we exist, and other people deserve not to have that pulled on them too.)
*Here used in the psych jargon sense of “awareness that something is wrong with your mind”.
Hmm. *thinky face is thinky* When I use “internalized” it’s always in the context of me and my own upbringing in a patriarchal subculture – e.g. here “this internalized narrative” was sort of shorthand for “I first read the OP as completely unproblematic, part of my brain went AUGH SUBVERSIVE LIARS BADWRONG DON’T LISTEN at the suggestion that it could be problematic, and so now I’m thinkyposting about why that happened” – so I didn’t even notice that it might read differently to other people.
*continues to thinky but not currently in words*
Tags:
#(June 2015) #(here is the other branch I was in) #conversational aglets #our roads may be golden or broken or lost #storytime
tattoo artist who can encode magic into tattoos but doesn’t want people to know she can so she just puts low-level luck spells on her clients’ bodies without telling them
jeweller who makes body jewellery and pendants which have amulet properties and draw love and luck and happiness to their wearers without them realising it
piercing artist who keeps the remnants from her piercings and puts them all in little jars in the back of her shop to work sympathetic luck spells on all her clients
and then all three of them slowly realise what the others are doing and end up in a poly relationship living in a little shop in the shitty end of town, which gets curiously less shitty the longer they stay, and people think it’s just the development of the area but the three artists know
and they’re never rich and they’re never famous but they’re always happy because they have everything they need
they have the shop and they have their customers and they have each other
and when their customers are happy and content, they pack up and move on, all together now, to find another space with skin to be coloured and jewellery to be made and magic to be done.
DETROIT – The three body modification artists were arrested today on charges of voluntary manslaughter after a past client suffered a fatal stroke, allegedly due to thaumo-alchemical interactions between her prescribed potions and a luck charm that had been placed on one of her tattoos without her knowledge.
…
“Some potions and drugs are known to react with common charms, which is why it is absolutely essential that your doctor and pharmacist have a complete and accurate list of your active enchantments,” says pharmacist Patricia Patil. “Putting an enchantment of any kind, no matter how minor, on someone without their knowledge or permission is playing Russian Roulette with someone else’s life.”
…
The victim, Carmen Jackson, was 36 at the time of her death and is survived by a husband and 4 children.
“#death tw #yes this #I did not think this *exact* thing #but I did wonder why we were assumed to sympathise with people tricking others into taking spells”
Because consent isn’t part of our cultural narrative. Patriarchalism is – people assumed to be “wiser” doing what’s Best for other people without needing input from those stupid lower-class people who would reject the help out of fear and superstition and who never know what’s Actually Good for them.
Us, the lower classes and poors in this country, we know we’re shat on, but it’s still a long row to hoe challenging this internalized narrative, that if somebody who Knows Better than you (upperclass, educated, ~the Wise~) is doing what’s Good for you, they don’t need your consent or even to tell you what’s going on.
In skiffy, there’s a trope of the person who has to Decide The Fate Of Others angsting about it, feeling unworthy, actually addressing the fact that they’re making big honkin’ decisions about people’s lives without their consent… but the angst isn’t about whether the decisions should be made (and in skiffy there generally isn’t time or any achievable way to get everybody’s input), but over whether THE PERSON ANGSTING is “worthy”, is Wise enough, because they weren’t brought up to feel that deciding the fate of others is their job, they feel it’s the job of those higher up the totem pole who’ve done the deciding on the person’s own fate. If they had more time, the ability to consult, it’s not suggested that they should take the opinions of the people whose lives will be affected, but of their superiors who have more of a “right” to fuck with people’s situations.
It took me five minutes to figure out ‘Skiffy” was sci-fi, but other than that I love every bit about this commentary.
It’s true. The angsting is always that the decision is “above my pay grade” – i.e, something that should be decided by higher ups. Not angsting that this is something that should be decided by those it affects, or should not be decided at all.
Okay, so I mostly try to avoid commentary on that post (OH MY GOD STOP HAUNTING ME, POST), but this one I feel the need to talk about, because it was both really encouraging and really hard for me to read. Aaaand it got long, like everything I write, so it’s going under a cut i guess
Hi! I’m the person who wrote those tags justice-turtle is responding to. I noticed this in the recent notes while pressing the “like” button on our conversation about it.
I admit I flinched when I realised you’d seen us talking negatively about your post (conflict-avoidance ftw), but it went surprisingly well. I’m glad you agree with the main point, and I’m sorry you keep having to see people taking the OP the wrong way.
Have you considered a note-blocker extension? You sound like you could really use one. People will still be taking your post at face value, unfortunately, but at least you won’t have reminders of that constantly thrown in your face. I’ve never used one myself (never had a post go viral), so I can’t recommend any particular one from personal experience, but XKit has a NotificationBlock extension and I’m pretty sure there are independent note-blocker add-ons too. (They generally work on individual posts, so you’d still get notes from your other posts.)
“I admit I flinched when I realised you’d seen us talking negatively about your post” – I WATCH YOU ALL I KNOW ALL I SEE ALL NO-ONE IS SAFE
but seriously, worrying people like that is one of the reasons I rarely respond to commentary on this post, b/c I too have conflict issues (…proooobably another reason I struggle with commentary like this, to be honest) and sympathise a lot with that lurching “oh crap they saw the thing” feeling.
I’m not sure I’d say people are taking the OP the wrong way, exactly. What worries me is that the way people are taking it – presenting the scenario as romantic and A-OK – is what’s presented in the post. So I can’t really say it’s wrong to read it that way, although it may have been wrong of me not to clarify in the post itself. I just continue to curse the fact that it went… “viral” may be a strong word, but close enough. That it spread so much.
Anyway, thank you, and I do keep meaning to get onto that XKit extension. Sadly, I am a loser who keeps whining about things and then not fixing them. HOORAY FOR LETHARGY!
(I know OP said they didn’t want people reblogging and especially necroing this post, but I’m going to go ahead for two reasons. First, this is a version including the explanation of how it wasn’t intended to be, as they put it, “romantic and A-OK”; second, OP hasn’t posted anything to northcentralpositronics-blog in over two years†, so it looks like they aren’t being subjected to the notestream from this post anymore regardless of whether they ever ended up installing a noteblocker.)
—
†If I understand their sidebar correctly, Tumblr fuckery locked them out of that account, and they had to get a new one.
Tags:
#(June 2015) #conversational aglets #our roads may be golden or broken or lost #storytime
There is a sign before a cavern, in Niorve in the Thousand Nadirs. It is written in the star-symbols that people wrote in before they learned the Perfect Language, and it says:
“Truth placed a treasure in this cavern. It belongs to any who have enough faith in him to heed the message he placed here, and turn right at the crossroads. But the Lords of Noise, to keep men from the treasure, placed a ghost at the crossroads, whose job it is to urge men to turn left. The ghost is more clever than men think, and their faith weaker. Beware, for if you turn left you will die.”
Many people entered the cave seeking the treasure, sure their faith was strong enough. None ever came out.
Kadmi Rachumion came to the cave when he was clearing the land of mysteries. For three days he fasted and meditated in front of it. Then he called down the Perils of the Northern Lights and asked them to test his faith. For another three days they tested it, and finally they told him that no power in human lands or the ultimate north could move him, because his resolution was perfect.
Then he lit a torch, entered the cavern, and walked down a long corridor. As he walked, he thought of how the ghost might tempt him. Money he could refuse. Power he could refuse. Threats he would shrug off. Arguments he would dissect. Reason he would meet with reason. And he held the Spear That Burns Illusion before him, so no trickery could confound his path.
Finally he came to the crossroads, and there stood a ghost, dressed in the rags of Shinomai. “Go on,” he told the ghost. “Try your best.”
The ghost said: “Truth placed a treasure in this cavern. It belongs to any who have enough faith in him to heed the ghost he left to lead them, and turn left at the crossroads. But the Lords of Noise, to keep men from the treasure, placed a sign in front of the cavern, whose job it is to urge men to turn right. Beware, for if you turn right you will die.”
Kadmi thought for a long time, then laughed. Then he made the sign of Kasi Elution Lighting The Sun Beacon, and the ghost disappeared. Then he turned around and walked out of the cave.
Niderion-nomai’s commentary: Kadmi won the treasure, which was Invincible Doubt.
Gregg Grimmsby, special agent Space FBI, stumbled out of his space cabin with a space mug of space whiskey in his robot hand. The sound of laser battles throughout the rocky landscape had woken him, and he put his hand up to block out the light from the binary suns as he squinted across the horizon.
The iridescent, crystalline landscape went on for miles, but he saw no sight of the battle. “Oh well,” he grumbled, “time to go get some space herbs.” He took a few steps forward, only to see the ricocheting light bounce off several canyons in the distance before turning through his torso. He fell to the ground, killed instantly.
Gregg shot up out of bed in a cold sweat.
“Agent Grimmsby.”
He looked out to the corner of the space cabin. It was Agent Slater, his longtime lover and boss. He was shirtless and standing in the light of the multiple moons that illuminated the room from the window.
“Come over here and kiss me, you son of a bitch.” Grimmsby growled, growlingly. And as Slater approached, Grimmsby woke up again. This time he was in a hydrotank, surrounded by doctors monitoring his vital signs.
“Fuck, not again,” he blubbered underwaterily, in the water.
Tags:
#storytime #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #death mention
i’ve been getting a lot of comments about how i pulled off my last Hidden Walmart exploit so i thought i’d go ahead and make a basic guide on how to do it. i’m no expert and be aware that you do this at your own risk
What is a Hidden Walmart?
most people have at least one walmart in their city. but what if i told you that there’s nearly always an extra walmart that you can’t see? to understand why, you need to dial the clock back to 1967. the founder of walmart, sam walton, had finally begun mass expansion across the US. it had already opened nearly 30 stores, and was at no sign of stopping. sam walton was projected to become a tycoon with his fair prices and business skills, but there was one thing holding him back: bubble-gum.
sam walton was a fervent believer that bubble gum was made from spider eggs. he was convinced that spider eggs were ground up and mixed into the sticks of chewable candy, but also was sure that bubble gum companies would cut back costs on their spider-proofing technology with the anti-sugar hysteria that was still sizzling in american suburbia, causing some embedded spider eggs to make it through the proofing process. sam walton theorized that the spider eggs would be mutated by human bodily fluids and give birth to a race of giant superspiders that would hatch from the inside of its victims and wreak havoc on his country. but sam walton was also notoriously circumspect, and was determined to preserve the legacy of his grocer chain at all costs.
after only a few years into the expansion of walmart stores, sam walton signed a behind-the-scenes contract with the stuhler construction company. the agreement obligated the construction firm to build a near-identical, underground walmart directly underneath the original. the only differences between the “Hidden Walmart” (HWM) and the “Root Walmart” (RWM) are that the Hidden Walmart is devoid of entrances and exits of any kind. in addition, every Hidden Walmart is fitted with a very primitive scanner designed to detect the presence of any arachnid buds, which would then lead to the underground building to saturate itself with high doses of gamma radiation if the scanners read anything.
the intention was clear: sam walt wanted to create a series of underground walmarts designed to persist and thrive while the surface world was ravaged by overgrown spiders. obviously, the spider apocalypse never happened, but for legal reasons the walton family today is still obligated to honor sam’s corporate order, so even the newest walmart stores today have hidden counterparts. the walmarts themselves are devoid of any staff, and it’s unknown how exactly anyone was supposed to enter the buildings (the area around the Hidden Walmart is always filled with cement), but this is where my tip comes in, because believe it or not, there is a way to get into your local Hidden Walmart.
Preparation
if you do not prepare for your venture into a hidden walmart, you risk death, or at least serious injury. thankfully, prep is minimum, and can change the outcome of your exploration. it’s advised you wear thick clothing, because the Hidden Walmart will be at least one mile underground, and devoid of sunlight. anything warm will do, but it’s crucial, and i mean crucial, that you wear a pair of reebok walking shoes.it’s not known why, but they seem to be one of the main things that allow you to enter any Hidden Walmart. anything made before 2001 will not work. generally, white pairs work the best, but i don’t think you need to be a stickler for color.
the other thing you’re going to need is a bag of flaming hot cheetoes. just trust me on this. i’ll explain why later.
Queering the HWM
now you have the necessary stuff, so let’s get to Hidden Walmart spelunking. first you’re going to need to pick a walmart, which shouldn’t be hard.once you’ve arrived at the Root Walmart, you’re gonna need to find the hardware section, which will either be labeled simply “Hardware” or “Home Detailing Appliances”.find a nail gun in the aisle, generally any will do. after finding it, you need to lie it perpendicularly against the bottom part of the rack, at least between 90° and less than 180°. from there, you’re gonna want to find a corner in the aisle. if there is no corner, you’re probably just gonna have to find another store. when you get to the corner, you need to bend over, rear facing the wall, and touch both feet with your hands. hold that pose for about 20 seconds, and you’ll feel a weight pulling on you. keep holding. what’s happening is the nail gun‘s mapping is starting to collide with yours, causing you to build up speed. at exactly one minute, let go, and if you do it right, you should clip through the ground at long enough of a distance until you suddenly pop right into the Hidden Walmart. you’ve done it.
Arrival
i’m not gonna lie. there isn’t much to do at a Hidden Walmart. the merchandise at it will be as old as the walmart above it, meaning you won’t be finding anything new unless the walmart is ~2 years old.visiting Hidden Walmarts is a way of exploring the untouched and, depending on the walmart’s age, traveling back to the past. one thing i forgot to mention: if you visit the Hidden Walmart and you have eaten in the past 3 – 5 hours, do not enter the makeup or book sections of the store. those are generally where the spider-egg scanners are positioned. it’s a primitive technology that hasn‘t been developed since the 60s, and it’s been known to mistake still-digesting organic matter in a person’s body for spider eggs. if you pass those areas after recently eating, you risk enduring lethal amounts of radiation.
Finishing the Adventure
so you’ve explored the Hidden Walmart, and seen everything there is to see. but there are no doors or exits! how do you get home? this is where the flaming hot cheetos bag comes in. technically, when you’re in the Hidden Walmart, you’re still in the Root Walmart as well. consider it like the Root Walmart unknowingly giving you a “preview” of the Hidden Walmart, although your body in the Hidden Walmart is very much real. however, when someone “previewing” a Hidden Walmart makes a sound at a high enough decibel, the Root Walmart automatically reacts by ripping the visitor in the HWM out of the store and back into the original. the human voice isn’t capable of that, but the loud popping sound of a flaming hot cheetos bag is. i don’t know why it’s specifically flaming hot cheetos. some of my friends have said the capsacin in the snack make the air inside more brittle and loud, but i don’t know if that’s true. at any rate, it ought to take you back to the original walmart so you can return home.
this is an amateur guide, like i said, but hopefully this should give you guys a kickstart into the world of Hidden Walmarts. if you have any extra advice you’d like me to add onto the guide, please message me! happy HWMing!
EDIT: fellow HWMer circutspit has just notified me saying that it’s also for the best that you avoid all canines for at least a week after visiting your local Hidden Walmart. for some reason, the process of noclipping leaves an odor that’s undetectable to most animals except dogs, and they just happen to attack anything that smells of it. thanks for the tip!
Tags:
#unreality cw #death mention #food mention #spider #body horror #storytime #I often enjoy reading video-game guides even if they’re for games I don’t play #and I’ve found that this can extend to fictional video games
In my great-grandfather’s spy memoir we found this summer, he talks at length about how he was able, at the age of 30, to infiltrate the communist party by pretending to be an at-risk homeless teenager (yes, literally a “hello fellow commie teens!” move). He also explains, in great detail, how he was able to do this because he had an unusually youthful, round and baby-ish face….a face which has been passed down through the generations to me. (There’s also a long, long paragraph where he’s trying to explain to his intended audience and also to himself the overall concept of empathy as if it’s this strange foreign belief system.)
But that means that now, in our family, we justify all our skincare and make-up purchases by claiming they support our spy work, “How will I ever infiltrate the communist party without this $15 bottle of snail serum?”, or, approvingly after applying make-up, “I look ready to infiltrate the communist party!”
Or, specifically, in the context of a text I just got from my mother that said only, “I have to stop at ulta on the way home or I’ll lose my chance to infiltrate the communists”
Tags:
#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #storytime #this probably deserves some warning tag but I am not sure what
Brinens and Things 
