#fabric collection erode

[srisakthitex]

What Magical Moments Unfolded at Sri Sakthi Tex This Diwali?

A Diwali Tale at Sri Sakthi Tex

In the bustling town of Erode, as the festival of lights approached, excitement filled the air. Families decorated their homes with colorful rangoli and twinkling diyas, but for one special place, the anticipation was a bit different. At Sri Sakthi Tex, the preparations were in full swing, not just for Diwali, but for the karate community.

As the sun set on the eve of Diwali, the shop glowed warmly, inviting martial artists of all ages. Inside, shelves were brimming with high-quality Karate materials, each item carefully chosen to support the dedicated practitioners. From sturdy uniforms to vibrant belts, it was a haven for anyone passionate about karate. This year, Sri Sakthi Tex had something extra special: a collection of KDM focused Karate materials, designed to meet the unique needs of fighters, young and old.

As the celebrations kicked off, the owner, Mr. Kumar, had a bright idea. “Let’s make this Diwali unforgettable,” he said, gathering his team. They crafted enticing Diwali offers that would light up the faces of their customers. “What better way to celebrate than with great gear for our karate family?” he added, enthusiasm sparking in his eyes.

Word spread quickly. Students and instructors flocked to the store, excited to find the perfect Karate dresses in Erode that reflected their dedication and spirit. Each visitor left with not only the best gear but also the warmth of community and festive cheer.

On the night of Diwali, as fireworks lit up the sky, the laughter and joy echoed through Sri Sakthi Tex. Families shared stories, while kids tried on their new karate outfits, striking poses and giggling. The air was filled with the scent of sweets, mingling with the energy of martial arts, creating a celebration that was both vibrant and meaningful.

In that moment, amidst the flickering lights and happy faces, it became clear: at Sri Sakthi Tex, this Diwali was about more than just offers. It was a celebration of unity, passion, and the spirit of karate—a festival that brought everyone together, one kick at a time.

And so, the story of Diwali at Sri Sakthi Tex was written, a tale of lights, laughter, and the love for karate that would be remembered long after the candles had burned out.

[fairuzfan]

"We have come together as Palestinian academics and staff of Gaza universities to affirm our existence, the existence of our colleagues and our students, and the insistence on our future, in the face of all current attempts to erase us.

The Israeli occupation forces have demolished our buildings but our universities live on. We reaffirm our collective determination to remain on our land and to resume teaching, study, and research in Gaza, at our own Palestinian universities, at the earliest opportunity.

We call upon our friends and colleagues around the world to resist the ongoing campaign of scholasticide in occupied Palestine, to work alongside us in rebuilding our demolished universities, and to refuse all plans seeking to bypass, erase, or weaken the integrity of our academic institutions. The future of our young people in Gaza depends upon us, and our ability to remain on our land in order to continue to serve the coming generations of our people.

We issue this call from beneath the bombs of the occupation forces across occupied Gaza, in the refugee camps of Rafah, and from the sites of temporary new exile in Egypt and other host countries. We are disseminating it as the Israeli occupation continues to wage its genocidal campaign against our people daily, in its attempt to eliminate every aspect of our collective and individual life.

Our families, colleagues, and students are being assassinated, while we have once again been rendered homeless, reliving the experiences of our parents and grandparents during the massacres and mass expulsions by Zionist armed forces in 1947 and 1948.

Our civic infrastructure – universities, schools, hospitals, libraries, museums and cultural centres – built by generations of our people, lies in ruins from this deliberate continuous Nakba. The deliberate targeting of our educational infrastructure is a blatant attempt to render Gaza uninhabitable and erode the intellectual and cultural fabric of our society. However, we refuse to allow such acts to extinguish the flame of knowledge and resilience that burns within us.

Allies of the Israeli occupation in the United States and United Kingdom are opening yet another scholasticide front through promoting alleged reconstruction schemes that seek to eliminate the possibility of independent Palestinian educational life in Gaza. We reject all such schemes and urge our colleagues to refuse any complicity in them. We also urge all universities and colleagues worldwide to coordinate any academic aid efforts directly with our universities.

We extend our heartfelt appreciation to the national and international institutions that have stood in solidarity with us, providing support and assistance during these challenging times. However, we stress the importance of coordinating these efforts to effectively reopen Palestinian universities in Gaza.

We emphasise the urgent need to reoperate Gaza’s education institutions, not merely to support current students, but to ensure the long-term resilience and sustainability of our higher education system. Education is not just a means of imparting knowledge; it is a vital pillar of our existence and a beacon of hope for the Palestinian people.

Accordingly, it is essential to formulate a long-term strategy for rehabilitating the infrastructure and rebuilding the entire facilities of the universities. However, such endeavours require considerable time and substantial funding, posing a risk to the ability of academic institutions to sustain operations, potentially leading to the loss of staff, students, and the capacity to reoperate.

Given the current circumstances, it is imperative to swiftly transition to online teaching to mitigate the disruption caused by the destruction of physical infrastructure. This transition necessitates comprehensive support to cover operational costs, including the salaries of academic staff.

Student fees, the main source of income for universities, have collapsed since the start of the genocide. The lack of income has left staff without salaries, pushing many of them to search for external opportunities.

Beyond striking at the livelihoods of university faculty and staff, this financial strain caused by the deliberate campaign of scholasticide poses an existential threat to the future of the universities themselves.

Thus, urgent measures must be taken to address the financial crisis now faced by academic institutions, to ensure their very survival. We call upon all concerned parties to immediately coordinate their efforts in support of this critical objective.

The rebuilding of Gaza’s academic institutions is not just a matter of education; it is a testament to our resilience, determination, and unwavering commitment to securing a future for generations to come.

The fate of higher education in Gaza belongs to the universities in Gaza, their faculty, staff, and students and to the Palestinian people as a whole. We appreciate the efforts of peoples and citizens around the world to bring an end to this ongoing genocide.

We call upon our colleagues in the homeland and internationally to support our steadfast attempts to defend and preserve our universities for the sake of the future of our people, and our ability to remain on our Palestinian land in Gaza. We built these universities from tents. And from tents, with the support of our friends, we will rebuild them once again."

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Lore!

This is gonna be a long one, so buckle in!

Loudclan is one of 4 clans that live on a large swath of land on the coast of South Central Alaska. Here's a map and some more details about them:

Loudclan camp is located on a flat ledge atop one of the smaller mountains in the range. They were named for the roaring rumble of the mountain's frequent avalanches and landslides. While prey is never frequent in Loudclan territory, their higher elevation and sloped ground means that the snow doesn't pool like it does down in the valley, and thus they never really run out of prey either. In the cold months the clan cats sleep in the many small caves around camp, insulated with wool from the dall sheep and mountain goats that live in the clan territory. In the warmer months, many take to sleeping out in the open, enjoying the sun warmed rocks, but this can lead to epidemics of heatstroke due to the lack of cover on the mountain. Loudclan cats are said to have excellent balance compared to the valley clans.

Ghostclan camp is located in an abandoned mining town build over a grassy wetland. They were named for the strange, empty buildings that they live among. Food in the wetlands can be unpleasant, but not inaccessible. The clan spreads out into several different buildings during the warm months, but during the winter the clan retreats from the deep snows of the valley into the mines, where they are shielded from the cold by several feet of dirt along with their collection of scavenged twoleg fabrics. The dusty interior of the mines seems to be bad for their lungs, however, as Ghostclan cats seem to be more prone to illnesses than the other clans. Ghostclan cats are said to be able to sense oncoming earthquakes with their sensitive paw pads, knowing when to retreat from a tunnel before it caves in. They were the first to discover the Black Water Pool, and feel that they have some kind of special connection to it, deeper than that of the other clans.

Shadedclan camp is located at the lowest point in the valley, in the largest clearing of the dense evergreen forest. They were named for the shade provided by the needled branches of the trees lining their camp. In the summer, Shadedclan's forests and meadows provide the most plentiful prey, but in the winter the snow piles far higher than the head of a cat, and their territory becomes near barren. This means that the clan must vacate their normal dens, moving instead into the branches of spruce and pine that they have learned to weave together into a network of dens and walkways. They tend to have larger paws with extra toes to help them traverse the deep snows when necessary.

Freezingclan camp is located among the heaps of man made boulders that line the shore. (It's called rip rap it's basically a bunch of big rock chunks that they line the shore with to keep it from eroding.) They were named for the harsh winds that batter their territory regardless of the season. While the rocks are hospitable for few creatures besides certain shorebirds, the ocean is always plentiful, and for those who are willing to trek across the ice, even the inhospitable frozen water will give way to a plentiful meal. Due to the small spaces considered to be actually livable amongst the gaps in the rocks, Freezingclan has no dens, and cats instead sleep with their family units deep in their personal nests of feathers, dried seaweed, and driftwood. The wind, while biting, can be helpful, blowing the snow deeper into the valley and not allowing it to settle over the camp. Freezingclan cats claim to have harder paw pads than the other clans, needing them to keep from cutting themselves on the sharp rocks. They are also the only clan to not worship the Black Water Pool, instead believing that their ancestors live in the ocean, reborn as the creatures of the sea.

Due to the extreme nature of all of the clan's territories, they have an unspoken agreement that borders are pretty much just loose suggestions. So long as you don't get too close to anyone's camp, or travel ridiculously far into someone else's territory, you're not breaking any rules. Of course, this doesn't mean that no disputes arise over territory, in fact, if anything, it actually makes territory disputes worse as no one can agree on how far is too far. The clans also often trade items exclusive to their area in order to obtain similarly scarce items from other clans.

Each clan (minus Freezingclan) is led by a "leadership team" made up of the Leader, the Lead Healer, and the Lead Mediator.

The Leader is considered to be the closest to Starclan, and receives six lives by being completely submerged and drowned in the Black Water Pool. Afterwards they wash the oil off and receive the mark of a paw print from the Lead Healer as a sign of their approval. The Leader can receive prophecies and visions from starclan on occasion, but if they wish to speak to them directly then they have to sacrifice a life to the Black Water.

The Lead Healer is tasked with being the caretaker of the clan, and receives three lives the same way the Leader does. All healers keep a consistent layer of oil on the lower half of their body, once dried and hardened it acts as a pseudo-apron, protecting the medicine cat from possible infectious material and keeping them from spreading germs to their patients. The Lead Healer rarely receives visions from starclan, and instead focuses on interpreting omens seen in the real world. They may also sacrifice a life to speak directly to starclan.

The Lead Mediator is something of a balance to the other two. They do not receive any lives and are in fact banned from touching the Black Water. It is their job to make sure that the other two leaders do not become so distracted by starclan that they become blind to the struggles of their living clanmates. The Lead Mediator wears a decorative collar to signify their position, and will never receive visions or omens of any kind.

The Leader's closest living relative is called the Heir, and is marked by a streak of oil on their forehead given to them by the Leader. Upon reaching twelve moons old, they take the position of deputy. The other two leaders also have heirs, who are often asked to advise or assist them, but they do not hold official positions or markings.

Whoo, okay, I think that's all that I wanted to say, anyway, hope this clarifies some things and that you enjoy reading it! Follow up questions are welcome, as always!

[sweet-s0rr0w]

day 31 of @hprecfest - most recent fic you loved

First Watch of Night by @tackytigerfic - E, 274k, 2024 (completed, posting as a WIP every two days, on chapter 14/21)

Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998.

But what if he didn't?

Excerpt:

“Every single time your magic sparks off Potter’s, you could be eroding the edges of the world,” Draco said. “Though I suppose there’d be no Voldemort if the very fabric of our universe is destroyed. Excellent approach to victory from Team Reckless.”

Harry hadn’t hit anyone in years, probably not since fighting with Draco himself, in school, but he wanted to so badly that he could feel the hopeful tingle of it through his palm, out into the fingertips and collecting in his balled fist.

Interrogate the feeling, Bill would say if he were here. Let yourself feel what you need to feel. Harry suspected “let yourself embrace the violent desire to punch Draco Malfoy right in his smug mouth” was not quite what Bill meant when he had gone through those mindfulness exercises with the troops last month.

“Do you know what it’s like?” Harry said, pressing his hands flat against his own thighs, bearing down into the shifting muscle, grounding himself. It felt strange to be so close to Draco’s restless body. “Being me, I mean. Do you know what it’s like?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that,” Draco said. His colour was high in the spill of moonlight, throat swallowing convulsively. “Of course I don’t.”

“Just imagine,” Harry said quietly. From next door came the low sound of laughter. Malfoy had made it to bed, then. “Imagine being in pain all the time, constant low-level pain from all the Occlumency. And all the fighting. Years of it, Draco, years and years.” Under his palms his thighs felt tense. “I’m so tired.”

Without letting himself think about what he was doing, he shifted sideways on the bed and flopped down to lying, stretching his legs, letting himself sink into the mattress. Draco’s pillow was cool and firm under his hot cheek, and he closed his eyes. After a moment he felt the bed shift as Draco wriggled back down so he was lying too. The pillow under Harry’s head dipped with the added weight of Draco’s head, and he kept his eyes closed.

How do I even start with this fic, which I'd been hearing about for two years and looking forward to for longer, and which I FINALLY got to read (and even better, to beta!) this summer?? First Watch of Night is epic in length and even more so in scope; the worldbuilding is incredible, the characters are all fully-formed - flawed, but so very loveable, and at the heart of it all is a Tacky trademark love story, so deeply-felt that it'll stay with you long after you finish the fic. Plus... Multiverse! Angst! Pining! Draco and Harry getting to know their counterparts from another (maybe familiar...?) universe! Ex-friends to enemies to maybe-friends to lovers! Sharing a room! Spy Draco! Fencing! Rosie, Harry's gorgeous goddaughter! Multiple POVs! Action scenes! Sex! Wolfstar sex! (Brief) Romione sex! Other-Drarry sex! Look, this might not be the most polished rec of all time, but if you've read any of Tacky's fics before you'll know what they're about. And you'll probably already understand why I'm raving about this fic. So go, get started now, and you might just catch up with posting in time for the epilogue! (assuming you read faster than i do)

If you read it, and especially if you love it, please do let me know! And as always, please do take the time to leave the author a kudos/comment <3

day 1 - first fic you remember reading

day 2 - a fic rated G

day 3 - a fic not on ao3

day 4 - a comfort fic

day 5 - a romantic fic

day 6 - a fic for a ship you don’t normally read

day 7 - the best of your OTP

day 8 - a fic that was recced to you

day 9 - a WIP

day 10 - a fest/event fic

day 11 - an underrated fic

day 12 - a fic from your favourite author

day 13 - a rare pair

day 14 - a fic rated T

day 15 - a fic over 50k

day 16 - a podfic

day 17 - a fic that makes you cry

day 18 - a fic that makes you laugh

day 19 - fanart

day 20 - a fic with fanart

day 21 - a fic rated M

day 22 - a series

day 23 - a crossover or AU fic

day 24 - holiday (vacation)

day 25 - holiday (national holiday)

day 26 - a fic under 5k

day 27 - a smokin' hot fic

day 28 - a fic over 100k

day 29 - a fic rated E

day 30 the fic on tbr list i'm sorry i skipped there are just too many and it actually only sparks guilt

[vhstown]

gwen stacy ★ general headcanons

content/warnings: mentions of underage drinking, implied & mentions of death

a/n: hey 😁 a levels beating my arse. thx 2 @qiupachups 4 helping w these 🫡 give it up for gwendy ‼️ (unedited)

Gwen is a collector — but not of collectibles. She has a secret empire of the most random things, and is thoroughly embarrassed when anyone finds it: tickets, pins, soda can tabs, cool-looking clothing tags, mismatched hair clips, paper clips, little things stolen from school, etc. Anything she things is remotely interesting has a place in a very specifically organised box under her bed, tucked away from the world and taken out occasionally to be adjusted or stared at. It's essentially the same as being a collector, right...?

She had a fashion hobby she grew out of, but it re-kindles when she has to design a suit for herself. Initially, it's made up of thermal sportswear but she comes up with actual designs at some point, modifying it overtime to include the hood and to integrate it with her ballet slippers.

When it comes to art, Gwen's style would be a lot like a fashion student's. I headcanon her to have aphantasia so her main strength is drawing clothing, and a lot of her drawings are based on herself as a reference (she can literally only draw herself well...) Rather than a sketchbook, she has a journal that's also full of photographs and writing as well as her drawings, and the occasional crumpled up drum score.

Has a knack for sewing and customises some of her clothes, though it's more personal touches and the occasional crop rather than completely overhauling a piece of clothing. Everyday items of hers have at least a little embroidery or design on them and she likes doing patterns on like bags and converse for her friends. Wants to make plushies and things but always manages to get distracted so there's a bunch of unfinished projects in her closet. (I would totally buy from her on Etsy though 😁)

Gwen did ballet as a kid and developed the enraging habit of cracking EVERY joint in her body. She's the mf that twists in the chair in front of you and stares deep into your soul while cracking her back. Cracks things you don't even know you could crack without shame my girl is a whole instrument 😭

Ballet is something her dad pushed her towards, alongside music (though he preferred she did something more traditional). Initially Gwen did feel out of place in her classes. A lot of the other children at her classes were already well-versed in it, and a lot of times she found she wanted to quit. Only after learning that her mom Helen did ballet did she willingly pick it up again at an older age, incorporating the technique into her fighting style.

Gwen used to play a few different instruments as a kid but none of them really stuck. For a while, she thought she hated music when she did piano and the recorder, but when she got her hands on a drumkit at her school and a couple lessons, she knew it was the one.

Her drumming is definitely more freestyle, and even though she's good she has a lot of problems with her high energy, spontaneous and emotive style. That means she breaks her drumsticks ALL the time. There's no way she's banging all that out on the drums without an unfortunate snap or two, so she always keeps another pair handy. She's broken her drumsticks so much that there's a collection of them torn up at the bottom of her bag (she never bothers to throw them out, and might've given herself a splinter reaching in to find something 💀)

Speaking of drumsticks, she has one lucky pair she uses for important performances, carrying them practically everywhere. They've essentially rotted in their fancy little fabric case since she'd gottem them, the custom "GWENDOLYN MAXINE STACY" imprinted on it having almost completely eroded away.

Though, she's only ever used them once; her dad had bought them for her for a school performance, which she had to bail last minute when her Spider-sense suddenly activated. Running off to fight a villain not a street away, Peter Parker follows her, and he realises just who Spider-Woman really is.

While she was planning to use them at her prom performance with her band... that never happened. After that, everything reminded her of that night, and her relationship with The Mary Janes dwindled until she quit altogether. The band only lasted a few months prior, and since they never got to perform at prom, Gwen found herself playing for no reason at all, other than to get rid of her pent-up energy and forget about the fact that she's basically a wanted criminal.

When she's living in Hobie's universe, she ends up breaking her "lucky" drumsticks and is, understandably, a little shattered by it, but Hobie gets her another pair, "GWENDY" written in mismatched letters on the side. That "G" was definitely a last-minute addition, though. He also teaches her how to stop breaking them so often. "Bit of advice — use the wrists, not just the arms."

Gwen's definitely not meant to drink, so whenever Hobie goes to the pub he makes sure not to, suggesting his friends don't get pissed out of their minds either (though she might steal a sip of something fruity now and again.)

Hobie takes her to gigs all the time, and sometimes she drums for his ones. The first time she does it, she's nervous of course, but her sound immediately gets the crowd going and it's the talk of the town for a week straight (and her drumsticks didn't break!)

There's no shortage of junk food, of course. Just like all the takeout she'd have back at home, Hobie would make sure to take her around all the local spots. Although it's not exactly the same, anything beats the plasticky cafeteria food in 2099. Stopping for a kebab or two in the middle of anomaly-hunting isn't really against the rules anyway.

Gwen is friendly with pretty much everyone in the Spider-society because everyone knows who "Gwen Stacy" is, but she never really wants to meet another version of herself (given how unsettling it is with context). Also very awkward around any MJs — or Peters. Peter B essentially being an older 65!Peter definitely freaks her out a little at first.

Misses Miles, obviously, and probably had something she wanted to make for him back in her universe that she could never retrieve. Maybe when she gets Hobie's watch she'll bring it along with her — would Miles like a knitted neckwarmer?

SO best friends with Margo. Her tech lets Gwen see into her universe sometimes (Miguel wouldn't let her 😞) and Margo is super keen on learning about her universe. They both hang out with Peni and it's a fun little girl trio (Peni totally takes them to her universe to see all the giant mechs 😁 "Girls night!" BOOM!)

Number 1 girlfail. She hasn't broken those new drumsticks yet! But drumming can wait — and all those projects at the back of her closet, and her unresolved dispute with MJ and the band, and her dad at home. Going from her small world to having an entire multiverse against her and her friends, Gwen's got one hell of a show to put on, right?

“I never found the right band to join, so I started my own, with a few old friends.”

“You want in?”

🩰🕸️💫

@phoenixinthefiles (it's cause of you im always writing hcs 😭😭😭 /pos)

hi bunklies 😁 ive been averaging like 4h of sleep cuz of skl but ill fix up soon trust... hope you are all doing okay ! ive never written anything for gwen before so i hope this is an okay start lol

atsv masterlist here! reblogs always appreciated :) see u around <3

[v-ividus]

22. The Illusion of Trust: Decoding the Broken Bonds of a Widely Fractured Society

“It is right that you learn all things — both the unshaken heart of well-rounded truth and the beliefs of mortals, in which there is no true trust.” — Parmenides

In a world rife with superficial relationships and digital interactions, trust has become a currency that is both devalued and yet relentlessly sought after. This paradox creates an unsettling backdrop wherein individuals often mistake the vibrations of social media engagement for genuine connection. What is deemed “likeable” often outweighs what is “trustworthy,” leading to a collective condition where the heart of truth is obscured by the smoke and mirrors of curated online personas. One might argue that as modern society embraces the fleeting dopamine hit provided by attention, it simultaneously compromises the very essence of trust itself.

Authenticity, in its purest form, is rapidly becoming an elusive aspiration. Individuals engage in a dance of façade-building, projecting idealized versions of themselves that are far removed from reality. This self-betrayal extends beyond personal identity into relational exchanges, breeding a climate of codependency. Rather than forging genuine connections, individuals become entangled in webs of emotional manipulation and parasitism—using one another as means to end. The moral ramifications of such behavior create ripples that undermine the foundational ethos required for healthy, fulfilling relationships.

Amidst these dynamics, we must ask: What does it mean to trust in a world where vehement likes eclipse heartfelt conversations? The delicate weave of trust is frayed by fleeting validations that occur at the speed of a thumb swipe. Amid the echoes of endless notifications, the quest for authenticity often finds itself buried beneath layers of curated commentary and attentiveness that serve selfish ends. The gravity of these choices stretches our understanding of interpersonal agency, raising profound questions that challenge our very conception of morality and connection.

Paradoxically, the price of this social currency is steep; it demands the sacrifice of depth for breadth. In an age where every interaction is structured to serve the fickleness of engagement metrics, the more profound human experience—characterized by vulnerability, reciprocity, and, fundamentally, trust—stands endangered. As we deconstruct the intricate ties that bind us, it becomes imperative to reassess not only our motivations for engagement but also the ethical frameworks that sustain our relationships amid chaos.

The Currency of Connection: Emotional Dependency and Social Parasitism

As Parmenides reminds us, the beliefs of mortals are often steeped in treachery rather than truth. The manifestations of emotional dependency in contemporary society reveal a troubling trend: humans are increasingly reliant on one another, not for authenticity, but for mere affirmation. This reliance is amplified through the dynamic of social media, where validation occurs at the cost of genuine connection. It is a paradox of modern life, where the abundance of voices drowns out the quiet power of meaningful discourse.

In this milieu, one must confront the uncomfortable reality of social parasitism—the phenomenon where individuals derive their sense of self-worth from the accomplishments and affection of others rather than fostering their own identity. Individuals become emotional leeches, thriving on the accolades initially designed to bolster communal trust. However, this destructive dependency ultimately erodes the very fabric of society, stranding individuals in a quagmire of unsustainable relationships and hollow connections that masquerade as fulfilling bonds.

Emotional dependency breeds a toxic environment wherein the intention behind interactions becomes muddied. As individuals align their worth with social media engagement, they inadvertently reinforce cycles of manipulation and disengagement. Such practices serve to attenuate the intricacies of ethical decision-making, prioritizing personal validation over collective responsibility. The foundation of mutual respect is undermined, giving way to relationships characterized by a transactional mindset, where emotional debts replace real connection.

To disentangle ourselves from this emotional mire, we must re-establish a hierarchy of values that prioritize depth over superficiality. Authentic connections must revolve around more than mere acknowledgment; they must root themselves in a shared commitment to truth and vulnerability. As social currency continues to proliferate, so too must our defiance against the corrosive impact of emotional parasitism, which threatens not only our relationships but the very essence of humanity itself.

Deconstructing the Ethics of Engagement

The landscape of moral engagement is fraught with ambiguity. Trust, once the cornerstone of productive relationships, now teeters on a precipice of peril, challenged by the fragmented narratives that populate social media. In this kaleidoscope of opinions, the individual voice often becomes an empty whisper devoid of moral grounding. In a world where every tweet and post serves as both a weapon and shield, the ethical dimensions underlying our engagements fall victim to the whims of societal approval.

In tracing the contours of ethical betrayal, we must confront our role as actors within this dynamic. Each user is an architect of their digital identity, wielding the power to shape their perceptions and, by extension, influence others. However, the clash between genuine engagement and performance raises a new dilemma that demand both introspection and accountability. Are we crafting honest-hearted narratives with integrity, or are we merely participating in a tragic masquerade designed to satiate a hungering and insatiable audience?

To build a restoration of trust, it becomes paramount to reevaluate our incentives for engagement. As the boundaries between virtual interactions and tangible relationships continue to blur, the ethical implications of our choices carve marks into the social psyche. Every engagement bears the weight of intention, summoning us to reflect—are we there to uplift our fellow users or are we doing so merely to preserve our status? Amid this reckoning, it becomes increasingly evident that the loss of trust is a consequence of collective inaction as we falter under pressures to conform rather than embrace authenticity.

Rebuilding relationships calls for the courage to engage in uncomfortable conversations, the willingness to dismantle harmful patterns, and the strength to resist the palpable lure of superficial engagement. Only by courageously questioning our motives and the ethics underlying our interactions can we hope to regain the trust frayed by years of emotional neglect and social manipulation. Escaping the clutches of social media-induced isolation requires a steadfast commitment to fostering genuine connections born from realness, empathy, and transparency.

The Renaissance of Resilience: Redefining Trust in the Digital Age

In recognizing the deficiencies propagated by the viral age, we face the exciting challenge of redefining trust. This effort calls for a revival of resilience as a principle, wherein the reclamation of real human connection stands as a primary goal. Acknowledging the pervasive fragmentation necessitates a conscious divergence from the familiar patterns of codependency and emotional parasitism that have marred our collective experiences so far.

At the heart of this quest lies the recognition that we, as individuals, possess the power to effect change. By fostering emotional independence and resilience, we cultivate environments that prioritize authentic connections over hollow affirmations. Such a transformation germinates from collective introspection, where honesty becomes the cornerstone of our interactions, and the delineation between genuine engagement and superficial dialogue is sharply defined.

A call to resilience urges us to dismantle the external validation mechanism that has permeated our relationships. Trust should embody a principle that transcends individual engagement, spreading its roots into the fabric of societal ethics. Cultivating a climate of open communication and shared vulnerability becomes imperative in this transformation, ensuring that our relationships are not merely transactional engagements, but rather profound encounters that affirm our shared humanity.

As we navigate the tumultuous waters of trust in the digital age, we must champion a commitment to authenticity, instilling hope and renewal within the morass of emotional dependency. The path forward illuminates the potential for deeper relationships, urging us to cultivate an understanding of trust that transcends its superficial trappings. The arduous pursuit of this remarkable transformation demands immense strength; yet, in its wake lies the promise of reinstituted kinship founded upon cooperation, compassion, and collective resilience—a true renaissance of trust.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Trust as the Cornerstone of Meaningful Connections

As we reach the culmination of this discourse, it becomes evident that trust transcends mere abstraction; it stands as the essential force that fuels human connection. The disintegration of societal trust compels us to scrutinize our moral compasses, demanding unwavering introspection from both the individual and the collective. We must become acutely aware of our roles in perpetuating cycles of mistrust and ethical decline, while fervently striving to nurture authenticity in a world rife with superficiality.

The harsh truth of our present circumstances—a society plagued by codependency and social parasitism—necessitates a confrontation with our own complicity in this chaos. We are not merely observers; we are challenged to dismantle the walls that obstruct genuine connection. It is crucial to grasp that the cultivation of trust demands relentless effort, the audacity to embrace vulnerability, and a resolute commitment to mutual respect and accountability.

Ultimately, by reclaiming trust, we lay the foundation for relationships imbued with depth and meaning. In championing authentic connections while resisting the seductive lure of external validation, we awaken our potential for profoundly enriching interactions. As we embrace the path ahead, let us acknowledge the transformative potency of trust—an enduring force capable of bridging the divides that fracture us, empowering us to rise above the limitations imposed by social media and our own insecurities. We stand at a pivotal crossroads, where the imperative to restore trust and authenticity will shape the very essence of our future and the bonds we create within it.

[chaosticbraindo]

just now realizing I forgot to upload my FanGoji design here 💀

Chaos Gojira 🦖 🌫️

with the creation and detonation of the first D-bomb, a tear in the fabric of reality was created, and from that tear emerged monsters.

Known as Kaijus, these monsters posses supernatural abilities that defy human logic and even the laws of this very universe… their very existence destabilize the world.

from all the kaijus that has arisen across the years, the first, and one of the most devastating, was named Gojira.

while slow and docile until approached or irritated, Gojira remains one of the most destructive kaijus ever recorded. this is due to its unique ability to emits a constant eroding fog around itself. the fog, while is not yet completely understood, was discovered to destabilize matters at a molecular level, causing both objects and living things caught inside it to melt and change over time, heating up and burn from the inside out before melting and merging with surrounding objects.

with the fog being approximately 8-10 kilometers wide, any region crossed by Gojira is almost guaranteed to becomes a waste land after the beast pass. with weirdly bent objects peppered by random scorch marks being fused into the floor, the walls, and other objects around it. the worst though, are images of those too unfortunate to escape… with them being burned from the inside while also melting and suffocating by inhaling the fog, their exhausted bodies would be slowly fused into the ground and whatever objects they just so happens to be making contacted with. leaving only a half melted corpse left for their relatives to later collects.

with how dangerous Gojira is, efforts have been made to get rid of the beast to no avail. this is due to it’s absurd regenerative ability. it was found out the beast possesses the ability to rebuild its own body to its original shape of a bipedal reptilian after an encounter with another kaiju which put Gojira’s regeneration on full display. couple that with its resilient and the kaiju effectively out heal anything humanity can ever throws at it.

and that is leaving out Gojira’s active rage when aggravated. in cases where it was pushed far enough, Gojira shows it true combat capabilities where even when it remains sluggish in comparison to its kaiju peers, it is some how much more powerful with each hit it lands strong and heavy enough to blow even larger kaijus off the ground. this is due to its weight as the body of Gojira consists of an unknown unnaturally dense and heavy material.

outside of impressive strength and power, Gojira can emits a concentrated steam of super heated fog from its mouth, which causes similar effects from the fog around its body but cranked up to eleven, dissolving then vaporizing things in a matter of seconds- and when pushed to desperation Gojira can even condense this breath to a level of strength that should be physically impossible to achieve even by the standard of other kaijus…

[barely-found]

Plum Enthusiast Community: Introduction

Hi! I’m Gisselle, a 24 year old artist born and raised around Compton and Long Beach, CA. Cities that are both full of culture and art. I’m passionate about fashion, film, and photography. Not just as art forms, but as tools used to amplify voices and ignite action. So here’s where I would like to see change.

Art: I want people to recognize the labor that goes into fashion. It’s not just fabric and thread—it’s a conversation stitched together by countless hands, often invisible. The artisans, the seamstresses, the designers. Each one playing a pivotal role in the creation of what we wear. I want to see us honor those who make clothing. Especially small designers, indigenous artisans, and creators who have long been overlooked. Fashion has always been political, always a reflection of power structures and cultural movements. It’s time we wear that truth openly. Fashion isn’t just about trends. It’s about intention. We need a fashion revolution—one that elevates craftsmanship, preserves heritage, and insists on responsibility. What we wear is never just about style, it’s about the stories we choose to tell. Author Elizabeth Cline has a wonderful video discussing fast fashion and the future of fashion. https://youtu.be/FU66m__ChNo?si=-oPBkjVN-2Q4KsTn

2. The Political Climate of America: I’m deeply frustrated by the disconnect between what politicians promise and what they actually do once in office. We desperately need leaders who embody integrity, accountability, and a commitment to real change—especially in confronting the alarming rise of white supremacy. The normalization of hate speech, particularly online, is creeping dangerously close to being accepted as the norm, and that’s something we can’t ignore. I want to see people rise up against fascism, the greed and power that are systematically eroding the very fabric of this country. The billionaires fueling this climate of fear and division must understand that we will fight for the future they’re desperately trying to take from us. This fight isn’t just a political one but it’s ideological. And we need to continue showing up—physically, mentally, emotionally—to push back against this tide of hate. Change starts with us, and it’s time we reclaim our collective power. This video is just a comedic commentary on social issues regarding facebook/elon musk: https://youtu.be/QdXu1oINV6o?si=tzSzMy751g-zzUFy. Share the video if you’d like!

3. Human Beings: I long for a world where empathy triumphs over apathy. We need to cultivate that sense of connection. I envision a world where love becomes the guiding force. Where our shared humanity isn’t just acknowledged, but celebrated. It’s about remembering that we’re all just searching for a purpose in this world.

Change feels daunting sometimes, but I truly believe in the power of community—like this one. I want to be part of the generation that speaks out and starts taking action for our kids, for the dreamers, for the ones who can still believe in a better tomorrow. On a personal note, my dad shaped the way I see the world. Unfortunately, he’s fallen into a pit of hate that feels completely different from the morals I was raised with. It’s been a struggle to reconcile with that, but I refuse to let it break me. If anything, it is fueling the fire inside of me even more.

[stackofsnakes]

Screw it, here's a Guards! Guards! AU(2300 words)

Thunder rolled.

Then reality rolled.

In a twist that surprised nobody and annoyed many, the Unseen University rolled as well. To the dismay of everyone, it rolled highest. Sparks of thaumaturgic energy crackled where the existing structures of the building folded into other dimensions and something else was now passing through. In the library, an unwieldy shape shot up from its slumber and turned vaguely humanoid. The books were in a frenzy; the barrier between dimensions, especially flimsy in and around large collections of books, had eroded and through the open space came pure, unfiltered information in shape of a pale mist. Information aching for a medium. Even in his own head, the librarian could feel new memories inscribed in places where old ones trying to resist eviction, as concepts like language, space, even math temporarily lost their meaning. The books on the shelf ached as information was violently taken and forced upon them. Through the space that was no space the librarian wandered, struggling to hold onto his sense of self. A memory, belonging to a stranger, barely yet formed, floated past. Then, as sudden as it began, it ended. The foreign information burned away like morning mist on a hot summer morning and reality started to heal. The books on the shelves complained in an inaudible grumble as their bound pages started to reject the alterations like a body a foreign intruder. The librarian sat in the dark, closely examining the memory he caught, or rather the memory of a memory. Somebody, somewhere close, had deliberately punched a hole into reality, a move unwise in the best of conditions, an the worn out space around the university had temporarily given in. This in itself was not too worrisome; the wizards of the university, especially students, did all sorts of courageous and stupid things with the fabric of reality if the day was long and distractions scarce. No, what worried the hominid was that something came through.

Thunder rolled... and cursed at Luck.

The gutters of the city gurgled softly as the detritus of the night was carried along, in some cases protesting feebly. When it came to the recumbent figure of Captain Vimes, the water filtered through his worn out soles like coffee through a filter. He opened his eyes. It took him by pleasant surprise that he was still upright. In a just world(the world was seldom just), he would have woken up with mud running through his breast plate. It wasn't the first time he woke up upright, as a young guard he had spend many a night sleeping on his feet in the freezing cold, but he couldn't remember ever having walked doing it. But then, he couldn't remember much momentarily anyway. He took it another unearned favor of the gods and let his feet carry him down the street. Presently, his soles told him by the shape and pattern on the cobble, he walked along Peach Pie Street.

He raised his bell, a bronze instrument as dented and worn as its owner. “Three o'clock!”, he bellowed while ringing the bronze object with an unwise enthusiasm. “And all is...”, he paused. He couldn't remember what all was, though he was sure it had something to do with people reprimanding him.

He pondered all for a while, stepping through through thick mist. The mist from the the river Ankh was not like ordinary mist, it didn't rise mysteriously from the watery surface, like in more forgiving regions of the disc, instead it dragged itself from the toxic muck, along with some of the more fortunate victims of the night, and fled down the street, lest somebody or something may try to drag it back in. Its consistency was traditionally like fish soup; the opaque kind with unidentifiable bits swimming in it.

Vimes turned another corner; his feet told him now he was walking down short street, the longest in Ankh-Morpork, testament to... something. Vimes wasn't quite sure to what. The mist was now so thick, it started to obscure the rows of houses along the street, putting to question whether there ever had been any. The bits in the soup turned into something more specific, although less corporal. Vimes hardly took notice, which was not considered to be a clever move. His feet, compelled by an outside imperative, independent from the brain, carried him through a white void, now so violently empty, it seemed to tear on the edges of the guardsman's form.

What was all? He pondered, with an increasingly bad feeling in his stomach. He know it was something large, so large it was everywhere, something he should remember, but he couldn't for the life of him. Life... Wasn't there something about life, or... the opposite of it? The end? Sam Vimes stomach moved rapidly in the direction of his knees. Wasn't he on a funeral earlier? Whose was it anyway? Gaskin, said a quiet voice in his mind, but the concept of Herbert Gaskin, long time friend and fellow guard, was already losing its meaning.

Failing to remember reality, Vimes couldn't help but miss how his grasp on it slipped from him, in the most physical sense imaginable. He also didn't notice leaving short street onto a pattern of cobble his feet didn't recognize. Impartial to such vital trivialities, they carried him forward, step by step through empty white that now seemed to pull on his person. Not forward, just pulling.

Step. The concept of cobble lost its meaning. What was all?

Step. The ground retired as it couldn't work without the concept of down. What is all?

Step. Physical space dissolved. What would all be?

“I remember!”, Vimes shouted to no one. “Three o'clock! All is-” Step. One too many.

Everywhere, all across the multiverse, taking one step too many can extinguish your existence. It also often has a side effect of leaving a hole somewhere, usually far further down(at least in places where concepts like “down” exist).

Both applied to Sam Vimes, whose only proof of ever having been a living person was a hole in the exact shape of Captain Samuel “Sam” Vimes, uniform and all. Usually, at least in Ankh-Morpork, such holes appeared on the surface on the the river; it generally took a good day or two until the outline was obscured. This specific hole, however, was unlike most, in that it lacked a physical medium. Reality crackled indignantly along the fray, demanding compensation, or at least some store credit; the pale yonder was happy to provide.

A shape emerged from nowhere in particular, filling the gap its previous occupant left. It didn't quite fit; it was taller than Vimes, and more burly, even accounting for the breast plate, and then there were the side burns... It wandered off toward being.

HM, commented a cloaked bystander in surprise. He retreated. It wasn't safe to linger.

The mist lifted, or rather it transitioned back into normal mist, as normal as it could be in Ankh-Morpork. The outline of buildings was now visible against the a sky that didn't fully belong to the night any longer. The shape moved with drunk determination through the dangerously unfamiliar streets. In the last corner of his mind, untouched the absurd concoction of substances he allegedly consumed in the past hours, reality had no record of those so he was legally in the clear, a voice reminded him that it was late and he'd do well finding a bed. Another voice, less rational, happily marinating in the cocktail it helped create, suggested he'd go with one of the lovely women, lining the dark side streets. Neither voice was in charge at the moment. Shivers ran through the strangers body in electric waves, from the soles of his feet, to the little hairs on his arms in frantic disarray. His spinal chord had hijacked his body, forcing him to continue his psychedelic march through the unfamiliar city. It was recalibrating.

The Bunch of Grapes in Easy street opened its windows, giving the used up smoky air a chance to escape. The bars of Ankh-Morpork never truly closed, at some point they simply shooed out the casual drinkers to make space for the much more lucrative alcoholics. Hosts had a nigh mystical ability to tell them apart; alcoholics made their palms itch, just like large amounts of gold did to dwarfs. The Host of The Bunch of Grapes rubbed his hands in excitement. Down the street, toward the bar, wandered a stranger bearing a face only worn by those determined to replace their body mass with alcohol, and there was plenty to replace. The fact that he was barely able to go in a straight line didn't bother the barman; the look of grim determination on the alcoholics face reassured him. He was tall and burly, his exotic jacket a presumptuous green, his yellow trousers almost offensively wide, and his bearded face bore an expression, that would have earned him a slap from any respectable woman and several of the less respectable ones. The barman was the type to whom these categories mattered a lot; he couldn't be seen with a fine lady in his humble establishment. He had a reputation to uphold.

“What can I bring you?”, he asked the exotic stranger.

“Ngahhh!”, he answered, straining the language center of his brain.

“Certainly, my good man, immediately.” The barman filled a dirty glass(he was especially proud of those, they were almost as dirty as those in the Drum) with a liquid that was certainly meant to be golden, but was a sad yellow instead.

“Nnnnnhhhh!”, the stranger said thankfully, emptying the glass in one swift motion. “Grgh, mwahhh!”, he demanded.

It occurred to the barman that this individual might actually drink himself to death right there at the counter. In a tone of utmost responsibility he asked “Could you pay in advance?”

“Mwh? Mm...”, the man took something out of the pocket and slammed it on the table. The barman picked it up. It was a black piece of paper, with the picture of a women on it. The number “five” was inscribed on the side. I was a few years still until the concept of paper money would be invented, but with the sense all business owner possess he was able to gauge that this must be used as money, wherever this man was from.

“Don't you have any more... local currency?”

The man just shrugged his massive shoulders. The barman sighed. It was to good to be true. He should throw this figure out, he concluded rationally, but something kept him from doing just that. His eyes relayed the image of the stranger to his brain, but in response came words like regular, trustworthy, friend. He sighed again.

“I'll keep you on tab for now.”

The stranger made a bubbling noise.

The sun was rising outside the great city of Ankh-Morpork; it hadn't mustered up the courage to enter yet. The lone guard at the gate yawned unimpressed, as he watched a tall figure approach from the road. He scanned the newcomer, he had a habit of doing so, some even call it his job. He lacked the confident bravado of adventurers, but also the timid excitement of young country hicks trying to make it in the big city. This one showed only a stern innocence that could get a person killed and a body that could get a lot of people killed. He also showed a letter.

“I think I've got to see Lupin Squiggle Sec'y pp,” he said eventually.

“What's the pp for?”, said the guard suspiciously.

“Could it be Pretty Promptly?”, said Carrot who had wondered about this himself.

Both men analyzed the letter carefully for clues for a while. A second name had been written in the text where now was an illegible smudge of ink, as if a drop had hit the paper. Weird, thought Carrot. During his journey he took special care not to damage this letter, his key into the guard. It hadn't even rained.

“What was it you're here for?” asked the guard helpfully.

“I'm here to join the watch!”, the young man said, straightening up as he said it.

“Really?”, the guard said squinting his eyes. “What have you done?”

“I'm sorry?”, Carrot responded with slight worry. Nobody had told him he needed to do anything except report... whoever it was he needed to report to.

“You must've done something.”, the guard said.

“My father wrote a letter.”, Carrot said helpfully. “I've been volunteered.”

“Bloody hellfire!” the guard wasn't sure what that meant but it coudln't spell a good omen, he decided. “In any case, you want to report to the Watch Captain. Captain... uh...” The guard couldn't remember; the inquiry he made to his brain returned empty. Cor damn it, he thought, you know somebody your whole life...

“And where is he based?”, Carrot asked politely.

Ah! the guard thought relieved. That was an easy oneö

“At this time of day I'd try The Bunch of Grapes in Easy Street. You can't miss him; he's the guy with... äh... just ask for the Captain.”, the guard resigned.

As Carrot marched off, the guard grumbled to himself. Unbeknownst to him, it wasn't lethomania he was struggling with, but entroponetic dissonance, a condition that was more physical in nature than neurological. The pressure build against the vulnerable foundation of his mind, forcing a narrative against a brain adamant that its memories were true. Eventually it gave in. It's quite unreasonable to disagree with reality. The guard felt something snap behind his forehead; reality realigned.

“Hey kid!”, he shouted after Carrot, next to whom hardened adventurers looked like unwashed children. “It's Captain Du Bois!”

[ngdrb]

Restoring Integrity: A Call to Reject Extremism and Safeguard Democracy

The present condition of the Republican Party is deeply concerning. Internal discord, ineffective leadership, and the rise of extremism threaten not only the party itself but also the fabric of our democracy. Individuals such as Marjorie Taylor Greene, Ted Cruz, Donald Trump, JD Vance, Lauren Boebert, Jim Jordan, and others including Supreme Court justices aligned with the MAGA movement exemplify this troubling trend.

Many key figures from Donald Trump's first administration are either imprisoned or have turned against him. This alarming trend should make us question the integrity and stability of his leadership. Do we really want to entrust our future to someone with such a troubling track record?

At this pivotal moment in our nation's history, it is imperative to address these challenges with clarity and resolve. The actions and rhetoric of these figures have fueled division and eroded trust in our democratic institutions. Their embrace of conspiracy theories, their attacks on established norms, and their refusal to acknowledge the legitimacy of fair elections undermine the very foundations of our democracy.

To safeguard our future, we must prioritize the restoration of integrity, competence, and unity within the political process. This begins with holding accountable those who prioritize personal gain over the public good. By voting out individuals who perpetuate division and misinformation, we can reclaim the spirit of bipartisanship and cooperation essential for effective governance.

Moreover, the Republican Party itself stands at a crossroads. It has the opportunity to redefine its identity and regain credibility by rejecting extremism and embracing responsible leadership. Voters have a crucial role in shaping this transformation by supporting candidates committed to upholding democratic values and advancing policies that benefit all Americans.

In essence, the urgency of this moment demands a collective commitment to reject the politics of fear and division. We must instead champion leaders who prioritize facts, accountability, and the common good. By doing so, we can foster a political environment where constructive dialogue thrives, compromise is possible, and progress is achievable.

Ultimately, the decision rests with each voter to safeguard our democratic principles. By electing leaders who embody integrity and inclusivity, we can ensure that our government reflects the will of the people and serves the interests of all Americans. This election is not merely about partisan politics; it is about preserving the fundamental values that define us as a nation.

Let us seize this opportunity to reaffirm our commitment to democracy and reject those seeking to undermine it. Together, we can forge a path that honors our past, strengthens our present, and secures a brighter future for future generations.

[so-true-overdue]

The Grand Bamboozle: Russia’s Digital Disinformation Offensive

In the grand theater of geopolitical machinations, Russia has emerged as the virtuoso of digital disinformation, orchestrating a symphony of deceit that reverberates across the Western world. This is not a mere conjecture but an incontrovertible reality that demands our immediate attention.

The Art of Deception: A Masterclass in Misinformation

Russia’s stratagem is as insidious as it is ingenious, leveraging the boundless reach of social media to disseminate a cacophony of falsehoods and half-truths. This digital subterfuge is not merely a nuisance but a calculated assault on the very fabric of truth and democracy. By inundating the information ecosystem with spurious narratives, Russia seeks to sow discord, erode trust, and ultimately destabilize the societal cohesion of Western nations.

The Evidence: An Unassailable Reality

The evidence of Russia’s digital chicanery is as abundant as it is alarming. From the manipulation of electoral processes to the propagation of divisive cultural narratives, the fingerprints of Russian disinformation are unmistakably etched across the digital landscape. Numerous investigations and reports have meticulously documented these nefarious activities, leaving no room for doubt about the pernicious intent behind them.

Pre-bunking the Naysayers: Dispelling the Myths

Predictably, there are those who would dismiss these assertions as mere paranoia or geopolitical posturing. However, such dismissals are not only intellectually disingenuous but perilously naive. The reality of Russia’s disinformation campaign is not a figment of imagination but a substantiated fact, corroborated by a plethora of credible sources and expert analyses.

The Call to Arms: True Journalism as the Vanguard of Truth

In this epoch of digital deception, the role of true journalism has never been more critical. It is the bastion of veracity, the sentinel that stands vigilant against the encroaching tide of falsehoods. Journalists who dare to call out lies and half-truths are the unsung heroes of our time, wielding the power of truth as their weapon against the forces of disinformation.

Conclusion: The Imperative of Vigilance

In conclusion, the onslaught of Russian disinformation is not a distant threat but an immediate challenge that demands our collective vigilance. It is incumbent upon us to support and uphold the tenets of true journalism, to champion the cause of truth in an era where deception reigns supreme. Only through unwavering commitment to factual integrity can we hope to thwart the grand bamboozle and safeguard the sanctity of our democratic ideals.

[srisakthitex]

How Can You Make Your Diwali Shopping Special with Sri Sakthi Tex?

It was the bustling days before Diwali, and the streets of Erode were filled with excitement. People were rushing to complete their festive shopping, picking up sweets, new clothes, and everything they needed to make the festival of lights special. Among the many shops preparing for the celebrations was Sri Sakthi Tex, a well-known store for Karate enthusiasts.

Arun, a young Karate practitioner, was also out shopping. He had been training diligently all year and was eager to get a new Karate uniform. He had heard from his friends that Sri Sakthi Tex was the go-to place for KDM-focused Karate materials in Erode. So, he decided to pay a visit.

As he entered the store, he was greeted by rows of crisp, white Karate dress materials, neatly arranged on shelves. The owner, a friendly gentleman, approached him with a warm smile. “Looking for something special for Diwali?” he asked.

“Yes! I need a new Karate uniform, and I’ve heard your store has the best Karate dress materials in Erode,” Arun replied eagerly.

The owner nodded proudly. “You’ve come to the right place! At Sri Sakthi Tex, we specialize in KDM-focused Karate materials. We understand how important quality and durability are, especially for Karate practitioners like you. We have a wide range of fabrics and designs that will keep you comfortable and ready for action.”

Arun’s eyes lit up as he explored the collection. He could feel the premium quality of the fabrics, and it was clear that these were not just ordinary materials. The stitching was strong, the fabric was breathable, and every detail was crafted with care. He knew right away that this was where he would find his perfect uniform.

“Wow! I can see why people say you have the best Karate materials in Erode. This is exactly what I need,” Arun said, holding up a uniform. “I’m so glad I decided to stop by.”

The owner smiled. “We’re glad you did too. And since it’s Diwali, we have some great offers that will make your shopping even more special.”

Arun left the store with his new Karate dress material, feeling ready for his upcoming practice sessions and excited for Diwali. As he walked away, he thought about how this festive season was all about finding the right things—whether it was a perfect outfit, delicious sweets, or spending time with family.

So, if you’re in Erode this Diwali, and looking for the best KDM-focused Karate materials, head to Sri Sakthi Tex. Just like Arun, you’ll find exactly what you need to shine this festive season!

[dakuistiredart]

Orpheus had died centuries ago, their name eroded by time, their flesh long turned to dust. Yet, against the natural order, they were pulled back from the abyss, resurrected to inherit a legacy soaked in death and shadow, the mantle of the previous Witch of the Dead. Their return was no miracle, no divine act of mercy, but a cruel, inescapable curse. It was a cycle set in motion long before their birth, a fate that had claimed countless souls before them, binding each to an existence neither fully alive nor entirely dead.

The ritual that sealed their return was as excruciating as it was absolute. A dagger, ancient and inscribed with magic worn smooth by time, was plunged into their eye. The steel was cold as the grave, and the magic it carried burned deeper than any mortal wound. Orpheus awakened for the first time in centuries, and in that instant, death was no longer an end but a door torn open, unleashing a torrent of memories that did not belong to them. They saw through the eyes of those who had come before, each a Witch of the Dead, each shackled to the same dreadful purpose.

Voices layered like whispers on a howling wind, coiled around their mind, and among them, one rose above the rest the last witch’s voice, persistent, knowing, unshakable. At first, Orpheus fought against it. They silenced the voice, ignored its counsel, and refused to partake in the ritualistic harvesting of souls that was now their duty. But such defiance had consequences. The magic sustaining them began to unravel, their body growing weak, their limbs trembling under an invisible weight. Cold sweat clung to their skin as fever dreams plagued their restless nights. The world blurred at the edges, unraveling like fabric worn too thin. It was only when desperation clawed at their very being that they finally listened to the loudest, most controlling voice.

The first soul they harvested filled them with an unsettling rush, like icy fire coursing through their veins, a power both intoxicating and terrifying. Each soul collected wove itself into them, restoring their vitality, strengthening their hold over the veil between life and death. Soon, Orpheus found that they could summon the spirits of the long departed, bend them to their will like fragile marionettes on spectral strings. The dead did not resist. They obeyed.

With the power of the departed bound to them, Orpheus reclaimed their predecessor’s domain, a looming, gothic fortress standing defiant against the endless, starless night. Its jagged spires clawed at the sky, its great iron gates groaned in protest as they swung open, and its shadow stretched far across the ruined land like an omen. Within its halls, dust lay thick upon the remains of a forgotten era. Chandeliers of blackened bone hung above vast, empty banquet halls where only echoes dined. Spectral servants, remnants of the past, lingered in solemn duty, watching, waiting, as if they had always known Orpheus would come.

Yet, even as they settled into their inheritance, Orpheus could feel the weight of something more pressing, something unseen. Beneath the mask they now wore to conceal the ruin left by the ritual’s blade, a truth festered. They were no longer merely Orpheus. They were something else, a vessel of centuries past, a chorus of lingering voices, a soul stitched together from the echoes of the dead. And the cycle had only just begun again.

[trump-executive-orders]

Imposing Duties to Address the Situation at Our Southern Border

Issued February 1, 2025.

By the authority vested in me as President by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of America, including the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (50 U.S.C. 1701 et seq.) (IEEPA), the National Emergencies Act (50 U.S.C. 1601 et seq.) (NEA), section 604 of the Trade Act of 1974, as amended (19 U.S.C. 2483), and section 301 of title 3, United States Code,

I, DONALD J. TRUMP, President of the United States of America, find that the sustained influx of illegal aliens and illicit opioids and other drugs has profound consequences on our Nation, endangering lives and putting a severe strain on our healthcare system, public services, communities, and schools. Since the end of my first term, U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) within the Department of Homeland Security has recorded more than three times as many inadmissible encounters nationwide as during my first term.

These challenges threaten the fabric of our society. Gang members, smugglers, human traffickers, and illicit drugs of all kinds have poured across our borders and into our communities. Mexico has played a central role in these challenges, including by failing to devote sufficient attention and resources to meaningfully stem the tide of unlawful migration and illicit drugs.

Mexican drug trafficking organizations (DTOs) are the world's leading traffickers of fentanyl, methamphetamine, cocaine, and other illicit drugs, and they cultivate, process, and distribute massive quantities of narcotics that fuel addiction and violence in communities across the United States. These DTOs collaborate and conspire with transnational cartels and other global partners to smuggle drugs into the United States, utilizing clandestine airstrips, maritime routes, tunnels, and overland corridors, and both willing and unwilling human couriers.

The Mexican DTOs have an intolerable alliance with the government of Mexico. This alliance endangers the national security of the United States, and we must eradicate the influence of these dangerous cartels from the bilateral government. The government of Mexico has afforded safe havens for the cartels to engage in the manufacturing and transportation of illicit drugs, which collectively have led to the overdose deaths of hundreds of thousands of American victims.

Mexican cartels are also implicated in human trafficking and smuggling operations, enabling the illegal migration of millions across our borders. These operations are often tied to organized crime, and they create pathways for cartel activities to expand into the United States. Furthermore, violent criminals originating from Central and South America easily transit into and through Mexico, and into the United States, where they cause irreparable harm to our citizens. These dangerous criminals are involved in drug-related violence, gang activity, and other crimes that endanger the safety of American communities.

Immediate action is required to address the national emergency I declared in Proclamation 10886 of January 20, 2025 (Declaring a National Emergency at the Southern Border of the United States), and to finally end the public health crisis caused by opioid use and addiction, which will not happen unless the compliance and cooperation of the government of Mexico is assured.

I hereby determine and order:

Section 1. (a) As President of the United States, my highest duty is the defense of the country and its citizens. A Nation without borders is not a Nation at all. I will not stand by and allow our sovereignty to be eroded, our laws to be trampled, our citizens to be endangered, or our borders to be disrespected anymore.

I previously declared a national emergency with respect to the grave threat to the United States posed by the influx of illegal aliens and illicit drugs into the United States in Proclamation 10886. Pursuant to the NEA, I hereby expand the scope of the national emergency declared in that proclamation to cover the failure of Mexico to arrest, seize, detain, or otherwise intercept DTOs, other drug and human traffickers, criminals at large, and illicit drugs. In addition, this failure to act on the part of the government of Mexico constitutes an unusual and extraordinary threat, which has its source in substantial part outside the United States, to the national security, foreign policy, and economy of the United States. I hereby declare and reiterate a national emergency under the NEA and IEEPA to deal with that threat. This national emergency requires decisive and immediate action, and I have decided to impose, consistent with law, and valorem tariffs on articles that are products of Mexico as set forth in this order. In doing so, I invoke my authority under section 1702(a)(1)(B) of IEEPA, and specifically find that action under other authority to impose tariffs is inadequate to address this unusual and extraordinary threat.

Sec. 2. (a) All articles that are products of Mexico, as defined by the Federal Register notice described in section 2(d) of this order (the Federal Register notice), shall be, consistent with law, subject to an additional 25 percent ad valorem rate of duty. Such rate of duty shall apply with respect to goods entered for consumption, or withdrawn from warehouse for consumption, on or after 12:01am eastern time on February 4, 2025, except that goods entered for consumption, or withdrawn from warehouse for consumption, after such time that were loaded onto a vessel at the port of loading or in transit on the final mode of transport prior to entry into the United States before 12:01am eastern time on February 1, 2025, shall not be subject to such additional duty, only if the importer certifies to CBP as specified in the Federal Register notice.

(b) The rates of duty established by this order are in addition to any other duties, fees, exactions, or charges applicable to such imported articles.

(c) Should the government of Mexico retaliate against the United States in response to this action through import duties on United States exports to Mexico or similar measures, the President may increase or expand in scope the duties imposed under this Executive Order to ensure the efficacy of this action.

(d) In order to establish the duty rate on imports of articles that are products of Mexico, the Secretary of Homeland Security shall determine the modifications necessary to the Harmonized Tariff Schedule of the United States (HTSUS) in order to effectuate this order consistent with law and shall make such modifications to the HTSUS through notice in the Federal Register. The modifications made to the HTSUS by this notice shall be effective with respect to goods entered for consumption, or withdrawn from warehouse for consumption, on or after 12:01am eastern time on February 4, 2025, except as otherwise noted in subsection 2(a) of this section, and shall continue in effect until such actions are expressly reduced, modified, or terminated.

(e) Articles that are products of Mexico, except those that are eligible for admission under "domestic status" as defined in 19 CFR 146.43, which are subject to the duties imposed by this order and are admitted into a United States foreign trade zone on or after 12:01am eastern time on February 4, 2025, except as otherwise noted in subsection 2(a) of this section, must be admitted as "privileged foreign status" as defined in 19 CFR 146.41. Such articles will be subject upon entry for consumption to the rates of duty related to the classification under the applicable HTSUS subheading in effect at the time of admittance into the United States foreign trade zone.

(f) No drawback shall be available with respect to the duties imposed pursuant to this order.

(g) For avoidance of doubt, duty-free de minimis treatment under 19 U.S.C. 1321 shall not be available for the articles described in subsection (a) of this section.

(h) Any prior Presidential Proclamation, Executive Order, or other presidential directive or guidance related to trade with Mexico that is inconsistent with the direction in this order is hereby terminated, suspended, or modified to the extent necessary to give full effect to this order.

(i) The articles described in subsection (a) of this section shall include those encompassed by 50 U.S.C. 1702(b).

Sec. 3. (a) The Secretary of Homeland Security shall regularly consult with the Secretary of State, the Attorney General, the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, and the Assistant to the President for Homeland Security on the situation at our southern border. The Secretary of Homeland Security shall inform the President of any circumstances that, in the opinion of the Secretary of Homeland Security, indicate that the government of Mexico has taken adequate steps to alleviate the illegal migration and illicit drug crisis through cooperative actions. Upon the President's determination of sufficient action to alleviate the crisis, the tariffs described in section 2 of this order will be removed.

(b) The Secretary of Homeland Security, in coordination with the Secretary of State, the Attorney General, the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, and the Assistant to the President for Homeland Security shall recommend additional action, if necessary, should the government of Mexico fail to take adequate steps to alleviate the illegal migration and illicit drug crises through cooperative enforcement actions.

Sec. 4. The Secretary of Homeland Security, in consultation with the Secretary of the Treasury, the Attorney General, and the Secretary of Commerce, is hereby authorized to take such actions, including adopting rules and regulations, and to employ all powers granted to me by IEEPA as may be necessary to implement this order. The Secretary of Homeland Security may, consistent with applicable law, redelegate any of these functions within the Department of Homeland Security. All agencies shall take all appropriate measures within their authority to implement this order.

Sec. 5. The Secretary of Homeland Security, in coordination with the Secretary of the Treasury, the Attorney General, the Secretary of Commerce, the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, and the Assistant to the President for Homeland Security, is hereby authorized to submit recurring and final reports to the Congress on the national emergency under IEEPA declared in this order, consistent with section 401(c) of the NEA (50 U.S.C. 1641(c)) and section 204(c) of IEEPA (50 U.S.C. 1703(c)).

Sec. 6. General Provisions. (a) Nothing in this order shall be construed to impair or otherwise affect:

(i) the authority granted by law to an executive department, agency, or the head thereof; or

(ii) the functions of the Director of the Office of Management and Budget relating to budgetary, administrative, or legislative proposals.

(b) This order shall be implemented consistent with applicable law and subject to the availability of appropriations.

(c) This order is not intended to, and does not, create any right or benefit, substantive or procedural, enforceable at law or in equity by any party against the United States, its departments, agencies, or entities, its officers, employees, or agents, or any other person.

[protoslacker]

Your Mother. Your Daughter. Your Sister. Your Grandmother. You.

A Quilt made by Laura Shaw

I saw this at Bluesky and was stunned that art engaging reproductive freedom should be deemed too controversal to show.

On her Website Laura shaw writes in part about the quilt:

When seen from a distance, the more than 3,000 squares of this quilt form a red cross that swirls and fractures around the edges, eroding just as reproductive rights are eroding across America. Viewed up close, each square, made up of red fabrics that cover the full spectrum from purple to orange, solid to patterned, is uniquely shaped, a visual reminder of how each woman must uniquely cope with the unpredictability of having a uterus—from miscarriage to infertility, failed birth control to traumatic birth and delivery—and how all women collectively depend on and benefit from access to safe, legal reproductive care and safe, legal abortion.

More about the AQS refusing to allow the quit to be shown at any of its venues in 2025 at Shaw"s Instagram.

And the skeet.

[madretierra0]

The Infestation of a Nation

What do we do when there is an infestation?

In my piece, I depict a woman's lower half as a pot from which roses bloom—formed to evoke the shape of a uterus. The roses, chosen as the national flower of the U.S., a symbol of constant growth and potential. However, this portrayal is disrupted by invasive bugs—figures of certain justices who aim to consume and damage these roses. Each bug embodies a force that undermines women's rights and, by extension, the rights that uphold the integrity of the nation itself.

The hand in the composition reaches out, a symbolic call to action, striving to remove these harmful influences before they erode what is precious. Through this imagery, I aim to illustrate how assaults on bodily autonomy are not isolated acts but collective threats that weaken the fabric of our society. Women’s rights are essential to the nation's health, and without nurturing and protecting these rights, the nation’s foundation becomes compromised.

This work serves as both a visual reminder of vulnerability and a powerful call for awareness and action. It underscores that protecting autonomy and integrity is essential not just for individuals but for the strength and future of the nation as a whole.