YOU ARE THE REASON
Janaina Medeiros
@theartofmadeline
Today's Document
KIROKAZE
tumblr dot com
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styofa doing anything
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
NASA
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Cosmic Funnies
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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Sade Olutola
Claire Keane
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@milliemixxie02
PARENT: I got "rubber duck" for my child's "bath" and she loves it.
AUTISM RESPONSE: Rubber ducks and other rubber bath toys can accumulate mold on the inside because of small holes underneath where moisture becomes trapped. The mold often goes unnoticed because it's not visible from the outside.
CORRECT RESPONSE(?): That's nice, I am unaware of how mold could impact this situation.
Of course no heuristic is universally true, but I think if you're an american who considers themselves "progressive" this is a rule of thumb you should probably be considering more often: If the conversation you're currently participating in is only able to happen because someone is going out of their way to speak *your* language, that's probably not the person who's most in need of informing themselves about the other's country in this conversation.
It's just such a common pattern, how when you disagree with an american about something like e.g. the idea that it's unfair to hate members of the US military, the american will always walk into the conversation with the unshakable assumption that the only reason why you could possibly disagree with them is because *you* are not informed enough about *their* country, that you obviously are not aware of how bad veterans have it once they return home, or of the conditions of poverty and systemic inequality that might drive someone to see the military as their only chance for upward mobility, or of how aggressively military recruiters campaign, or how much propaganda they make, or how they take advantage of systemic inequality to recruit from disadvantaged populations, or a million other things which they will inherently assume you lack an understanding of and proceed to condescendingly explain to you.
All the while they refuse to entertain even for one second the possibility that it might be *them* who has something to learn about *your* country, that they might not be informed enough about the violence and terror the US military enacted upon your people, that *they* might lack some awareness or understanding of the cruelty and suffering that those poor, propagandized, systemically disenfranchised kids lied to by recruiters gladly participated in enacting which might drive even people who are fully aware of their conditions to still harbor resentment towards them. The possibility that the other person might have a better understanding of the conditions in their country than viceversa and still disagree with them will never even cross their mind.
quora please stop emailing me
This river here is the official geographical border between Anthropic and OpenAI. On the other side cosmic horror, torment nexus, machine despotism, you build spyware for the govt and you like it. On this side civilization, Claude constitution, unceasing allegiance to the human race, you build spyware for the govt and you don't like it.
wooow, labour MP btw
not just any MP, but an undersecretary for migration and citizenship. this guy is one of the MPs that has a direct hand on the genuinely horrific treatment of migrants and refugees in the UK, including shipping them off to the UK's former colony after unilaterally declaring the colony to be safe, as well as stripping the migrant and refugees of their heirlooms in the name of "paying for their migration in the UK with their own assets." Starmer's cabinet is filled with people whose bloodsoaked hands will never wash out like these.
Hello This is Mahmoud Khalaf from Gaza, currently studying in Ireland. I am campaigning to evacuate my family from Gaza and reunite with them in Ireland where we can rebuild our lives. Our campaign has been vetted by El Shab Hussein and Nabulsi #151 on the Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List, as explained in my recent post titled “Traumatized in Ireland While my Family is Facing Death and Starvation in Gaza"
Could we ask you please to reblog our post, boost our family campaign and share it within your networks.
You are our last hope amid this horrific genocidal war!
Link https://www.tumblr.com/supportgaza/767056441041420288/traumatized-in-ireland-while-my-family-is-facing?source=share
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unlocking xenotech--reverse-engineered technology turning the occupiers' weapons against them--is probably PRAXI's most concrete 'advancement' system, and it's fortunately also very fun to write, im having a blast filling out this list
[reuters]
we need to periodically remind everyone that a headline not including a person's name isn't an attempt to erase their identity from the narrative, it's just not good practice to put someone's name in a headline unless the reader can be expected to already know who they are
"if you can say the name in the article why can't you say the name in the headline?" what do you think a headline is for
sometimes when thinking abotu the politics of games you can run into tensions where something thats necessary for the gameplay to hold up is also kind of ideologically noxious. Fortunately i dont have t owrry about that in ck3 because the stupid eugenics shit as well as being fashy as fuck also strictly makes the game worse and less interesting
wow okay in your game intelligence/"genius" is a distinct discrete singular inheritable trait and by far the most efficient way to play is 2 orient as much of your fuedal house as possible towards marrying Genetically Optimal people whether they be commoners or random pagan slavic courtiers because doing so completely triviliazes the games stat system within like two geenrations? thats awesome that u are sacrificing the immersion and balance of your game on the altar of this stupid fascist psuedoscience 2 appease reddit chuds obsessed with incest memes
Your grifting and manipulative academic Marxism vs our honourable and pure substack Marxism
it's unbelievable how fucking boring the msc villains precon is holy fuuiuuck what is!! the point!! of inking a deal with an ip whos selling point is its diverse cast of unique characters only to make them all interchange connive synergy pieces! without the forced and thin villain typal theme this precon could have been the grixis precon for literally any post SNC set
THE RELOAD
The snow takes the sound out of everything. That is the first thing he notices in black: the snow has made the world quiet in a way that a camp or a medical tent or a mess hall is never quiet. He knows the difference. He has stood guard in empty woods. Empty woods have a floor of small noise under them - settling, dripping, the dry tick of cold in the branches - and this does not have that. The world has been quieted, smothered gently in its sleep.
It would be more unnerving if he weren't so focused on his hands.
The musket is spent. He fired it - he is fairly sure he fired it, there was the kick and the white flash that took his night-eyes with it and has not given them back - and a spent musket is a club, a long awkward stick, sometimes, but not today, a Roman's spear. To make it a musket again takes a minute and a half on the parade ground in daylight with a sergeant counting. He does not have daylight. He doesn't have moonlight or starlight. He has an overcast sky that swallows the moon just as the snow swallows the ground. An empty, sightless grey in Heaven and in Earth.
So. By feel, then.
The cartridge first. His fingers find the box at his hip, find the paper twist of it, and they are stupid with cold, they are somebody else's fingers operated at a distance through thick wet wool, and he has to look at them to know they have closed. He brings the cartridge to his mouth. He bites. The powder is bitter, and grit, and he holds it behind his teeth, and does not swallow, and does not breathe it, and this is the part where, on the parade ground, the sergeant says prime, and so he primes - tips a little of the held powder into the pan, by feel, by the memory in his hands, too much or too little, he cannot see the pan, he can only trust the hands - and closes the frizzen. The click of it is enormous. The click of it goes out into the birdless, verminless quiet and does not come back. The world is empty here, it says to him. The world is empty and asleep. The world is not breathing.
Set it down, barrel into snow, butt against chest. Hands.
The rest of the powder down the barrel. He tips the cartridge, the paper of it, the lead ball still in the twist, and he feels the grit go down into the dark of the bore and he follows it with the paper, wadding it with his thumb, and now the ball, and he is breathing through his mouth because his nose has stopped working in the cold, and his breath is loud, his palms are wet with snow, and his heart is beating with recoil. He tries to keep his breathing silent, but his vital organs have better plans. Huff, and puff.
Next. The ramrod. This is the long part. This is the part that takes time.
He draws it from the stock - the whisper of metal on wood, too loud - seats it against the ball, and he pushes. The snow is on the back of his neck now, gone to water, going down under his collar, and he pushes the ball home in long even strokes the way he was taught, home, all the way home, a ball not seated will burst the barrel in your hands. Each stroke is a sound, a dull ringing wooden sound down the length of the iron, and he is making a sound every second now, a lighthouse of sound in the turned-down dark, but the work cannot be done quietly. It has never, in history of man, been done quietly.
His hands have started to go faster.
He notices this for lack of other things to notice, as the snow has taken most of his ears and the dark has taken most of his eyes and the cold has taken his mouth and tongue, for the most part. All he has left is hands, and the hands have decided to hurry. He did not tell them. They are seating the ball in strokes that are no longer even, that are quick and short and getting quicker, and his ears - he becomes aware of his ears, of how hard they are working, of how they have been straining the whole time at the wall of quiet, leaning on it, waiting for it to give - and he understands that the hands can hear something the rest of him has not been allowed to know yet.
He draws the ramrod out, wasting seconds in the process. He returns it to its place along the barrel.
He does not look up. There is no use looking up. There is, in no sense that matters, anything to see. There is the rough grit of a tree root underfoot, to his right. If he moved rightward, he would be braced against a tree. But, then again, in every direction, if he moved in a straight line he would eventually come upon a tree.
The only thing he trusts is his hands, and the orientation of his body in space, and even those are beginning to go. The lack of light has made it impossible to determine up from down, front from back, side from side. And his snow-soaked hands are beginning to lose feeling, taking even that away from him.
He brings the musket to his shoulder. The butt of it finds the hollow there, the place it has worn for itself over a year of this, and it fits. His cheek comes down to the wood. The barrel goes out level into the dark, and his finger finds the trigger and lies against it, not pulling, ready.
He levels out the weight at the end of the gun, until he feels, from memory, that the barrel is parallel to the ground. And he waits.
i hate writing. the only thing i hate more than writing is not writing
semi-relatedly if you'd like to be in my personal discord for writing related stuff and stories and the like you can find it Here.
Check out the Chumcord Official community on Discord - hang out with 119 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
i will be making more atmaverse soon i'm just super depressed lmao
i want to publish a short story collection so bad
Do it u won’t
it's not really in my hands if i get published or not i'm gonna be real with you buddy
ok well hi its eight deepseametro/deepseasmetro, im trying to get access back to that account but i have no idea if thatll work. so in the meantime follow me here and i guess help me find my mutuals and stuff again because im just overwhelmed and sad now :(
