KIROKAZE
Game of Thrones Daily
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
@theartofmadeline
roma★
will byers stan first human second
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gracie abrams
todays bird
Show & Tell
Origami Around
Product Placement
RMH
d e v o n
Love Begins
trying on a metaphor
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shark vs the universe
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@deadsuperhero
Hey there. Are you tired of Tumblr's bullshit, and are kind of interested in an open source / decentralized thing that feels like it has early Tumblr spirit? Check out Wafrn!
What started as a Tumblr-inspired publishing platform has taken on a life of its own within the Fediverse, evolving into something far more
It's a really great platform with a fun, chaos gremlin community that has a lot of promise. Check it out!
You can find my profile here.
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Economic Musings on Federated Networks
This is largely a brain-dump of ideas, largely derived from comments I’ve made within Lemmy communities about responses to my latest article, “Lemmy’s Image Problem“. TL;DR: it came out that some devs of one of the biggest platforms in their respective space neglected to bring in some very basic functionality regarding the ability for users, mods, and admins to delete images that were uploaded.…
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Found on Reddit
Okay, this kind of rules. Is it capable of running Doom?
World's Biggest Paper Airplane.
Found on Reddit
Found on Reddit
Had a dream last night that I was working at some awful tech company, where conditions were steadily getting worse. The product was terrible, and so were most of the managers there.
The company offered a modified arcade machine that you'd use to quit your job. It was prominently featured in the HR department. That's how little they cared about people.
Also, I was working two jobs and had to decide whether I'd get by with just one?
does anyone else do this?
My wife 100% does this. It's especially funny because YouTube has become particularly egregious as of late, dropping four ads into 10-minute videos involving chess.
Quick post on what’s happening in Atlanta right now
So there’s this beautiful trail in Atlanta called the South River Forest Trail. As we all know, Atlanta Georgia is renowned for their tree cover and historic forests.
The City of Atlanta and corporations like Delta, AT&T and Amazon are funding a massive police training center that will destroy the forest.
Dubbed ‘cop city’ by many protesters, this will cost about $90 billion with a B to build. This will be used to further militarize Atlanta’s police leading to more incidents of police brutality in the city.
On January 18th indigenous activist Manuel “Tortuguita” Teran was shot and killed by the police for defending this historic forest from destruction. Their reason? “He did not comply”. Many protests have been going on in Atlanta to defend this forest.
Since Tortuguita’s death, the situation has quickly deteriorated
This forest is very dear to me but I am unable to physically protest at the moment, so I am handing this off to Tumblr to spread awareness. Rebloging this may help this tragedy become part of national news instead of just an Atlanta problem.
Donation and petition links to stop cop city
https://www.gofundme.com/f/stoptheswap2020
https://act.colorofchange.org/sign/no-cop-city-atl/
https://defendtheatlantaforest.org/solidarity
This is so disgusting on so many levels. I half expect police to take this situation and justify everything they're doing with it.
"We're building this training center exactly because of situations like this!"
Stop Cop City
A villain nurses their loss in a quiet diner when an equally tired person enters, and orders a coffee in a very familiar voice.
Dominic the Dominator hangs his head, defeated and feeling sorry for himself. Liberal amounts of concealer hides his many bruises and black eyes. A cloth mask, used to hide his broken nose and missing teeth, sits on the stained yellow table next to a bowl of chili, a cup of black tar, and an ashtray full of stumps.
"More coffee?" the waitress asks him before filling up his cup with more steaming sludge. Dominic the Dominator feigns a close-lipped smile, nods, and takes a sip. It almost tastes like the ashtray nearby. In other words, it's perfect.
He fights back tears as he thinks about the day. The kitchen fire, the island invasion, the laxatives in the punch bowl at a party of businessmen. It had all been going so well! He had been doing a great job of dominating the world around him. But then...
Submarine Man, he thinks to himself and grits his remaining teeth together. That spandex twink stood in the way of victory for the last time.
Dominic the Dominator aggressively spoons up some chilli between his swollen villainous lips, trying his best to eat away his sorrow without getting dry socket. He swallows, lights a cigarette, and tries to let his mind wander.
It had all started, here, at Rita's Diner. A chance encounter, swapping comic books, a night spent looking at the stars and wondering if anything had meant anything. That was the day that Dom had decided to become a supervillain.
Dom smiles, and for a moment, remembers the good times. Jared had been a hell of a guy. Brilliant beyond his years, hysterical beyond belief. Being a mad scientist had changed him. But on the other hand, Jared's experiments had changed him, too.
Best get back to the Dugeon of Agony, Dom thinks to himself. He chugs the steaming hot ooze, slams the cup down, pays. As he walks towards the old jukebox, he takes a longing look at his favorite Dolly Parton song. He reaches into his pocket, just as the door swings open and pins him against the machine.
"Shit on a shingle," a familiar voice politely requests at the counter. There's a drawl dragging at the corner of each word, bending the vowels as words string together. Dom swivels around. Dolly can wait.
"Dad?!" Dom cries out in surprise. A lanky figure wearing flannel and a John Deere hat looks up at him, his thin smile twisting at the wrinkles on his face. He motions to Dom to sit beside him.
"That's Tractor God to you," Dom's father whispers under his breath.
"Not in public. You're still my dad, anyway."
"You look like hell, son."
Before he can respond, a steaming plate of bread and gravy clatters gently onto the bar. Tractor God nods, smiles, and digs in to his country breakfast.
"My plan failed," Dom sighs, "my right-hand man betrayed me, my army scattered to the wind, and my nemesis beat me to a pulp."
"Heck, that Submarine kid still beating you?"
"He's a grown man, Dad. So am I, for that matter."
Tractor God thinks for a moment, and takes a few bites of breakfast.
"You know," he chews thoughtfully, "something similar happened to me back in the 70's."
"Really?! You?!"
"Oh, yeah," Dad smiles, "General Disruption and I were trying to do an invasion run and occupy Pekin. It was going well, but the General didn't think having me in the picture was a good insurance policy."
"What did he do?!"
"He sent all of my followers into a trap. Got them all arrested and deprogrammed from their hypnosis. Then, Captain Industry got the jump on me. We fought in a steel mill. He ended up smashing my head into a grain silo."
"I was worried that I wasn't cut out for this business. I thought you never lost."
"Heck," Tractor God let his jaw go slack, "It took me a long time to get where I'm at. The best villains have to struggle. None of us come flying out the gate all perfect and invincible."
Dom sighs, relieved.
"I was worried that I was just a failure."
"Ha!" Tractor God laughs, "You're just failing, you aren't a failure. You're a chip off the old block, sport. One day, you'll be at my level, maybe even further."
#20
“Your hands are cold.”
“I’m dead, what do you expect?”
"Your hands are cold," the bureaucrat smirked mid-handshake.
"Of course I am, I'm dead," the man in the tattered suit rolled a yellowed eye, "What do you expect?"
Dead air passed between the two men. The bureaucrat cleared his throat.
"Technically, you're a Post-Mortem American," he gestured with a hand, "you used to be dead, but aren't anymore."
The man in the tattered suit stood still for a while, contemplating what his life had become.
"My name is Hank," the paper-pusher smiled slightly, "I'm here to help reintegrate you back into society."
"Jeff," the tattered man grunted, with slight irritation. He had so enjoyed the long sleep of death, with its lack of responsibilities or worries. Why was he even up and moving now?
"I'd imagine you have some questions," Hank leaned over, picked up a binder, and began flipping through it. Jeff leaned in, and noticed Hank's badge: Hank Henderson, Civil Case Representative, Iowa Department of Civil Affairs.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Jeff finally admitted.
"Can't say that I blame you. Absolute mess of a situation we have here."
"Why am I not in my grave?"
"There's a labor shortage."
"It's 2069 and you don't have robots doing all the work?"
"Oh, Automaton Americans exist, and do plenty of work. The problem is that they all have legal personhood now, and most of them just make art and play games all day."
"Lucky them."
"Unfortunately, regular people no longer want to work anymore," the case worker sighed, "the good news is that we'll let you pick your job from a list!"
"Why do I have to work?"
"I just explained this to you. Would you like to be a fast food worker, an asteroid miner, or a plumber?"
"None of those sound great," Jeff the Post-Mortem American deflected, "Can't I just be an influencer? That's what I did before I passed."
"Unfortunately, that's a crowded field that the few working Pre-Mortem people occupy."
So uh,
I'm normally on the fediverse, but my wife regularly shares her favorite Tumblr posts with me. Y'all have some really great writing prompts, and I want to start writing more, so maybe this space will help motivate me?
at Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Assumption
Lovely trees today :) (at Absinthe Brasserie & Bar)
Modern consoles are useless without reliable internet, even for playing digital games that you've already bought.
When I wake up late on a holiday. (at Haight-Ashbury)
