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[niklioni]

End of the World

Most people believed that technology would be completely gone. That we would be thrown back to the stone age. While there was a long stretch of chaos, especially for those nations that were dependent on technology for their everyday lives, most of the world just ticked on over. Kept moving along.

The hardest part of the micro-nova, was what it did to the planet. Earthquakes, massive storms, volcanoes -- Those were minor compared to the polar shift. It had been happening for decades. The magnetic north pole had been wandering slowly, until it wasn't. The last decades, it sped up. And then the south pole started moving. When they met near the southern tip of India, the sun had already gone nova, and loosened the magma layer, so the realigning of the magnetic field in that location brought with it a cataclysmic shift of the earth's surface, aligning the new poles north and south with the solar magnetic field. Kind of like when a magnet FLIPS explosively to line up with another magnet.

The floods were the worst. Electricity was gone, with most wires being used as conduits for all that solar energy, which immediately melted and oxidized them to uselessness. After the dust was gone, the stars were the brightest things in the night sky again. When the floods came, people were in the dark, no information from major news systems to warn them, no cars to take them to places that could be considered 'safe'. So much of the human population was destroyed. Waves higher than the majority of continents washed back and forth across the land, washing away whatever taint mankind had put in place. Much of the earth was changed overnight.

The freeze afterwards brought another insult to injury. Almost nobody was ready for it. A flash freeze of the entire planet. Global warming was not a worry anymore. It didn’t last long, since all that debris that had chokes the sun had been blown away but it was long enough to turn the planet white. 

People, when they live in one spot for long enough are used to the weather in that location. Well, with the polar shift, the sun came from another corner of the sky in the morning. Equatorial countries had no clue how to handle the cold. It was something they never had to deal with. Canada was in for a rude awakening when summer rolled around -- for the next twelve thousand years.

Now I say all this to let you know how bad it was. The United States was split in half, a body of water now running from Lake superior to the Gulf. Half of Texas was gone. Just gone. Under water. The hill country to the mountains were amazingly fine, though with the change in weather, we had many flooding events until the green had taken over.

And now we come to the mountains. Ah the mountains. I recall that several decades before the event, billionaires, having failed to control the population, began building mountain bunkers. I get the feeling that they knew more than the average human. Though I doubt they had altruistic ideals when they did this, they did save humanity in many ways.

They bought STUFF. They had all sorts of stuff. Computers, cars, machines to make computers and cars. That was the biggest thing. They had information. They had stuff.

And they were impressively weak about security.

Once people found out where they were, these billionaires were no obstacle. Scientific minded folks gathered together and hired those of like mind and with abundance of survival skills, and headed out to take the first of these compounds. Since there was no technology working, and rich folks do rely on it, they were infiltrated, and if not convinced to cooperate, detained.

It was no more than a week after the floods and tremors stopped, that news was filtering through populated safe areas about needed supplies. Things needed for everyday life without hospitals and internet and grocery stores with food shipped from thousands of miles away. A caravan of survivalists was travelling the routes selling antibiotics, and sutures, and needles, and shovels. There were books with basic information about pumps, smithing, farming, hunting, butchering. Recipes for those without spices. They were a godsend, though likely not the ones the people wanted. They were well armed. They repelled many people. They earned respect for their space and people learned to respect their lives.

They traded these things with people who had things like vegetables, meat, lumber. Scrap metals and glass were also accepted, though they preferred such things already in billet form. It packed easier, and the horses here still new at pulling the wagons, so they didn't want to overburden them.

The books, they sold few copies. They claimed they wanted to have enough for every community, and it would be a good idea for people to share the information with their neighbors. They set aside time to teach those who wanted to learn, but they knew what would happen. They understood human psychology. The information would never be shared. At least while the ones who had bought the books had died.

I was in one of those communities when they had come through. I listened to their spiel, listened to them as they read the simply written text of the books, and watched the aftermath when they left.

Half a day after they had continued down the old roads, chaos erupted. I stayed way back once I heard the first grumblings. I got on my horse and rode out of town and camped, watching the town center with an old scope. The four who had bought the books and gear were mobbed. They were killed and their stuff taken from them. SO much gunfire erupted, that I was rather amazed there was that much ammo in the town. The books were left on the ground, torn to shreds. The most valuable thing those people had purchased, thrown to the mud like trash.

I understood at that point that this town was a loss. I was certain that within a year, it would be nothing but old bones, the carcass picked clean by the wild dogs that roamed the hills. I picked up my camp before it got dark, and headed East to the Rocky Mountains from what used to be central Texas. Austin was north, Waco was south, and there was a long ways to go.

Life was hard. Every day consisted of getting up with the sun, setting the kettle on the coals to heat. Splashing some water in my face, and wiping the sweat from my flesh. Brush the horses down, throw last night’s scraps to the penned chickens and ducks, and open the nesting boxes.

 I would have to collect more water today, though it was not urgent. I figured I had enough for a stew this evening, but it was always best to be prepared. So I saddled one horse, and put the yoke on the other. They whuffled at me, excited to get out for a while. Once the cart was hitched, I loaded the empty barrels. With rifle in hand and a pocket full of ammo, I walked the two horses over to the trough.

When I had moved out here, I searched cautiously for other people. There were some settlements, a few isolated cabins, but lots of space. I moved on until I could look from a high place and see nothing of another person in all directions. It was lonely sometimes, but I was more concerned for safety, than for comfort. I was not one for settlements. 

Tractors littered the fields, dead, even though diesel would easily run once the engine got cranked. Even if they removed all the electronics and managed to get them moving, fuel was severely limited. It made sense to use the smallest engine on the smallest field if one was to use them at all, since transportation was as limited as the farm. Why plant more than you can use and trade?

There was also a new phenomenon now. Roving herds of cattle. Wild cattle. I was amazed they survived, considering how domesticated they were -- thousands of years of domestication can do strange things to an animal. Just look at people at the beginning of the 21st century. Dopey, lazy, stuffed into little boxes for more than half of their income to a landlord who never really gave a crap.

I mounted my horse, and tied the leads of the wagon horse to the horn of my saddle, and took the well worn path to the water well. The day was clear and crisp. About mid spring. Snow was still on the ground, but was steadily thawing. The well would be very full. 

Digging that well was an experience for me. There was so much that I needed to prepare before I even broke ground, and there was no guarantee that I would find water at all. I had several shovels, a pick, buckets, rope, and stacked all around where I had decided to dig, tons and tons of stone laying about in piles. I had roughly shaped them all into something brick-like, with two parallel sides. The other sides, I felt, didn’t really matter.

The hardest part of the preparation was the mortar. Sand, in this area, was not a geological feature easily found. Limestone was everywhere, so cooking up lime wasn’t an issue, but sand was absolutely necessary. I was despairing until I remembered that quarries would always have mountains of tailings. Not quite sand, but fine grained rough sided crushed stone. I figured that would be all I needed. It took ten trips to get all that I needed, and still I felt I would need more for other projects, but I was exceptionally tired of making the trip fifty miles there, and fifty miles back. 

[niklioni]

Something is going to happen

Several decades ago, I thought I would be the best writer in the world. I would write a novel that would set the world afire with imagination and drive the creation of several more novels in an even more expansive universe. And then I got lost.

I've never had a drug problem, and though I did spend about 10 months drinking my life and money away at parties, once on the other side of all that, I was still lost. Before i was injured on the job, I could do anything I set my mind upon. ANYTHING. My imagination thrived - not with story ideas or essays, but with plans for building this or that. The intricacies of material strengths flowed through my ideas, along with the processes of preparing all that would be needed to do it all myself. That was a dream never to come true.

I cannot but blame myself for the sad state I was in. I stayed working with the crappy outfit I was with, even though I railed against the proprietor for cutting corners. I wanted to get out, but I was weak. Weak, and depressed, and immobilized by what I thought I Should Do. Expectations. The biggest slayer of dreams. I am not a year past the proprietor's death, and I'm still frozen in place. I cannot move for some reason that cannot bring itself into words in my mind.

I do have dreams still. I have collected knowledge from hours and hours and countless hours of internet searching and rabbit hole travelling about a wide wide range of subjects. Many things that I am certain I could do if pressed, but have never done. Many things I have tried, and though the results were mediocre, were moderately successful, though not exactly useful today.

My dreams are tempered by my knowledge of tomorrow. There are things coming, likely in less than a decade, that will completely change the world. Completely change how knowledge is shared. Change our currency, our governments, our laws. The future is apocalyptic. Revelations, seen through the eyes of a man thousands of years ago who could never understand what he was seeing, makes sense if you can translate his ramblings to current knowledge on astronomical phenomenon.

Can you imagine the day that the sun goes dark? Fire rains down from the heavens? Fire racing across the planet to immediately be frozen as temperatures drop? As the sun stands still in the sky? South becomes East? What would any of these things mean to a man who was only a shepherd? In an age where aluminum was more precious than gold. Iron was a prized metal of war.

How would you respond?

I think about these things sometimes, but I know there is nothing I can do about any of it. 'Climate change.' What a joke. It's a Climate Cycle. This is NOT the first time that humanity had to crawl out of the ice and snow to rebuild civilization.

I wonder about those who may be on the ISS when this thing hits. Will they survive? Will the systems be able to sustain that much plasma, or will the batteries explode from the impact? Will the plasma shell melt holes into the space station the way it has made green glass on the surface of the moon in ages past? Would they be able to survive, if the ISS remains intact, for long enough for some land-based system to get booted up and guide them home? Would they even be able to navigate home? Most satellites would be scrap, falling from the sky for centuries to come.

[niklioni]

in tribute to this post, have some more color palettes that i’ve been keeping locked up for a while, hehe

[niklioni]

A glorious fuck-ton of perspective angle references (per request).

[From various sources.]

[niklioni]

Female-assigned intersex kids’ vaginal canal size is also assessed by doctors, to ensure that it’s long enough to fit a penis inside of it. Doctors might surgically construct or re-construct vaginas, which can result in a host of health problems and necessitate multiple, multiple surgeries. This is especially the case since most intersex kids have these surgeries very young, and when their bodies grow into their adult forms, more surgeries are necessary to keep their vagina size in proportion. Non-surgical methods are also used to increase or maintain vaginal length by regularly using medical dildos to stretch the vagina over months and years. (It’s kind of like braces for your vagina, but much, much worse.) Just like there are no standards for how long a clitoris “can” be before it’s classified as a penis, there aren’t absolute standards as to how long a vagina is for it to be of “normal” length. I had a dilation procedure performed for almost every exam I had with intersex doctors from the time I was 8 until I was 16, so that they could check how long my vagina was as I grew. I absolutely hated these procedures. I mean, imagine a man as old as your father or your grandfather, who you don’t know, inserting a medical dildo into you each time you saw him, knowing that you can’t question the doctor’s orders and just accept that you have to undergo these uncomfortable procedures for your health. Imagine a decade or so later, realizing that these procedures did nothing to track your health, and had everything to do with grown men feeling good about the fact that you could fuck some dude someday like a “normal girl”. That all those traumatizing procedures weren’t actually medically relevant at all, and it actually was within my right to refuse those examinations. I didn’t know any of that at the time. I also had no idea that I wouldn’t want to ultimately have the kind of sex they assumed I’d be having, adding yet another layer of this-was-totally-unnecessary/messed-up to my history. Other kids shouldn’t have to go through this. Other adults shouldn’t have revelations some day far into the future that what was happening to them WASN’T okay, and their traumatic feelings ARE valid, and the whole system of how intersex people are conceptualized and “treated” IS entirely fucked. And it’s gotta change. We’ve gotta change it.

—-Claudia at Autostraddle

I just read this article and was reminded once again how invisible the intersex community often is… we need to signal boost this shit to let people know that this kind of “medical treatment” is NOT okay.

(via bossybussy)

[niklioni]

[niklioni]

[niklioni]

I’m Adam.

-And I’m Emily.

We make “funny videos” on the Internet.

-But soon, we might not be able to.

That’s because…

…net neutrality is in jeopardy. Net Neutrality is the principle that says ISPs can’t discriminate between different types of traffic.

That means that…

…whether you’re a bedroom music producer, a couple on an amateur porn site, or just someone with a start up idea - you get access to the same users as Netflix, Facebook or Amazon. On the Internet, anyone can succeed.

But…

\

…America’s ISPs wanna set up a pay-for-play system where rich companies pay extra to get to those users first.

If this happens…

…instead of a wonderful playground if innovation that it is now, the Internet will become like cable TV where you can only get stuff that’s been pre-approved by a bunch of old rich guys.

Ten years from now…

…your Internet bill could be a bigger “fustercluck” than your cable bill.

Now, you might be thinking…

…isn’t the government supposed to protect me from fragrant doucheholery like this?

Unfortunately…

…the former chairman of the FCC (government agency that’s SUPPOSED to protect you) is now the cable industry’s head lobbyist. And another former cable industry lobbyist is now the CURRENT head of the FCC.

So…

…we can’t trust the FCC to make the right decision on their own. That’s why WE need to protect the Internet we love. The chaotic, AWESOME, often quite weird, place where literally everyone’s voice can be heard.

In a few months…

…the FCC will approve this festering soal of proposal unless we speak up. The Internet is one of the few places where human voices speak louder than money. So while that’s still the case, let’s use those voices. Go to DEARFCC.ORG and tell them to protect Net Neutrality. Thanks for doing your part to protect the Internet.

—-

Contact FCC at https://dearfcc.org/

IF DEARFCC.ORG IS DOWN, simply go to good oldhttp://www.savetheinternet.com/

All GIFS are courtesy of our new friend, RANDY!

—-

Source Video

[niklioni]

[niklioni]

Hi, i really like the way you tell your story in ggar. I think someone already asked you this one day but how can i become good at storytelling? To tell stories in a captivating way.

- Make it alive. Don’t just say things, tell things. Pour yourself into it. Don’t hold back with ideas.

- Remember, you’re telling the story to people who are not you, nor experienced the same things as you, nor are in your head. Being aware of it helps making your story clear to the reader’s eyes. 

- Captivate yourself. Love your own story. Or live a love/hate relationship with it, that’s okay too. As long as you put your passion into it, and live it. See first tip.

-There’s a hell lot of things to say about writing stories. I can’t explain them all, mostly because I probably don’t know about most of them. What I mean is: make it your own experience. Those things I mentioned? That’s how I write my stories. The thing with creating something: everyone has their own methods, their own philosophies. Mine is just one out of millions of them.

- Conclusion: Write.

[niklioni]

[niklioni]

why not

[niklioni]

HEY GUYZ I MADE A POKEMON COMIC

[niklioni]

My visit to get screened for cancer:

Nurse: "Sorry your boyfriend couldn't wait for you in the waiting room, it makes women feel uncomfortable."

Me: "He wasn't my boyfriend and I don't see how it would make them uncomfortable, but that's my opinion. He was here for moral support. I understood, and so does he."

Nurse: "So he's your...."

Me: "Friend."

Nurse: (During the question asking) "How many sexual partners have you had?"

Me: "11."

Nurse: "How old were you when you first became sexually active?"

Me: "....Loaded question but....14, I guess."

Nurse: "You're sexually active, then."

Me: "Well....I guess...but..."

Nurse: "How many times have you been pregnant?"

Me: "Uh. 0."

Nurse: "O...kayy...-Checks 'condoms' as my preferred use of birth control-"

Me: "I don't use condoms. Or take birth control."

Nurse: "Then how do you avoid getting pregnant?"

Me: "With homosexuality."

Nurse:

Me:

Nurse:

Me: "I fuck girls."

[niklioni]

[niklioni]

[niklioni]

sharing for kiddo.. 

Source: The13thBlackCat