#long post !!!

[glumby]

how do you compete with an angel? become one yourself

[paperlignes]

GUILLERMO DE LA CRUZ AND NANDOR THE RELENTLESS WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS (2019-2024)

[thissurprisinglyisnttaken]

Idk man, apples are apples and I'm picturing a base idea in my cluttered brainspace. That apple either has to pay Brain Rent to take up current space or you have to keep adding details to the apple, otherwise it's Gone. However, sometimes it'll rewrite a part of the brainspace and I lose my shit. I'll paint you a little scenario:

You look into my eyes and stare into my soul (if eye contact is a think between us) and say to me, "Think apple." Congrats, I am thinking 🍎 and the mental image is floating in the corner of my vision to the upper left above your head.

You say "It's a green apple." The 🍎 becomes 🍏 and it's still floating above your head.

You say, "Describe it to me," and my brain already has a pre-loaded background specifically for apples ready for describing. I say, "It's a green apple with little yellow freckles and a green/brown stem. It's sitting on something wooden with sunlight from the left side lighting the apple." As I'm saying this, I'll doing the mental equivalent of putting the apple scene in fullscreen mode and there's a chance I've gone glassy-eyed or just straight up closed my eyes.

You ask, "Is there a plate nearby?" There might not have been a plate nearby, but no worries! I've cooked one up just for you <3 "There's a medium sized baby blue porcelain plate further behind and to the right."

You say, "Put the apple on the plate, I'll cut it up in a minute." I've now put the green apple on the blue plate and leave it sitting on the wooden countertop/table.

I continue on with my task(s) at hand and de-load the apple scene, but what you've done is now update the pre-loaded apple background to automatically have a blue plate. I won't realize this until I next try to picture an apple.

If you see me later and hand me a blue plate with slices of a red apple, I FUCKIN BLUESCREEN. I hate it! The Reality apple and The Brain apple have a distinct dissonance and it causes me memory issues. The existing scene with the apple is now messed up because the apple is both red with the streaky-apple lines and green with yellow freckles and I can't directly focus on it without getting frustrated. The apple picture doesn't work anymore unless I start over with a new apple with no background! AAARGGH

Anyways, I can never have a task running at the same time as a task loading because if I even so much as THINK I completed either of them, then it'll overwrite and I'll believe I've done it. Which makes me lose my shit when I find out I've fuckin tricked myself Yet Again and the task still isn't done.

Case in point: I'm cold right now, and I'm pretty sure I didn't bump up the temp because omg why is it so cold?? BUT I could've sworn I turned on the heater. So instead of always checking myself and second guessing, I never second guess and just get annoyed at times when I should've double checked. So I'm not angry that I'm cold, I just hate that I can't change my fucked up little brainspace to be more efficient. ......... on my way to go change the goddamn temp 😤

i have neither a good imagination nor aphantasia, but a secret third thing

[hydrattan]

I was feeling agitated and artblocked yesterday so I decided to give my brain a rest by watching TV and then the next thing I knew these were in front of me

[climbingthefloors]

obsessed with this baby hippo from thailand's khao khew zoo.. she has been so utterly betrayed by the world

[nondivisable]

I need to say something and I need y'all to be calm

if it isn't actively bad or harmful, no representation should be called "too simple" or "too surface level"

I have a whole argument for this about the barbie movie but today I wanna talk about a show called "the babysitters club" on Netflix

(obligatory disclaimer that I watched only two episodes of this show so if it's super problematic I'm sorry) (yes. I know it's based on a book, this is about the show)

this is a silly 8+ show that my 9 year old sister is watching and it manages to tackle so many complex topics in such an easy way. basic premise is these 13 year old girls have a babysitting agency.

in one episode, a girl babysits this transfem kid. the approach is super simple, with the kid saying stuff like "oh no, those are my old boy clothes, these are my girl clothes". they have to go to the doctor and everyone is calling the kid by her dead name and using he/him and this 13 year old snaps at like a group of doctors and they all listen to her. it's pure fantasy and any person versed in trans theory would point out a bunch of mistakes.

but after watching this episode, my little sister started switching to my name instead of my dead name and intercalating he/him pronouns when talking about me.

one of the 13 years old is a diabetic and sometimes her whole personality is taken over by that. but she has this episode where she pushes herself to her limit and passes out and talks about being in a coma for a while because of not recognizing the limits of her disability.

and this allowed my 9 year old sister to understand me better when I say "I really want to play with you but right now my body physically can't do that" (I'm disabled). she has even asked me why I'm pushing myself, why I'm not using my crutches when I complain about pain.

my mom is 50 years old and watching this show with my sister. she said the episode about the diabetic girl helped her understand me and my disability better. she grew up disabled as well, but she was taught to shut up and power through.

yes, silly simple representation can annoy you if you've read thousands of pages about queer liberation or disability radical thought, but sometimes things are not for you.

[still-a-dreamer-even-now]

she wants to understand, she tried to understand, she begs them to tell her what happened to them in the country and they all look at each other having a silent conversation she will never understand and edmund makes a joke that doesn’t quite ring true about their time and she wonders once again when her younger son became a diplomat and her children became a parliament

“the war changed them” she says to anyone that knew them before “i hardly know them myself anymore”

and she says it with false laughter and haunted eyes and a heavy sense that she has missed something crucial and the people that knew them don’t quite get it, “they’re growing up” they say “war changed everyone” but helen pevensie has never seen children who eyes tell her they’ve truly, really lived entire lifetimes at 15

i helen is so terrified her kids grew up without her while still being so young like they lost their childhood it was robbed from them but in reality their childhood was rich and wonderful and lovely and lively and yes even magical and they grew up at a normal rate and then were forced to live through that growing up again in a world less beautiful and she’s afraid they missed their childhood but really truly it was she who missed it

because every time they’ve started trying to explain it to sit her down and tell her, every time she frustratedly throws down a rag while washing the dishes and begs peter to act his age in a way most kids will never hear it said (be a kid!! for goodness sake be a kid, peter!!) and he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again and shakes his head with such a noble tilt and tells her not to worry and that he’s fine and that’s he’s nearly old enough to worry about adult matters now anyhow

because how do you explain to your mother that you’re not really a child (i’ve grown so much in your absence mother) without sounding like you didn’t need her, without sounding like you’re telling a story or a joke instead of the truth (i wish i could show you our palace, our friends) and how do you tell your mother you learned swordsmanship from a mouse, or learned diplomacy from a centaur, that the trees taught you to waltz, you like your tea that way because of a dear old faun, won’t she think you’re playing? joking, teasing her relentlessly? isn’t it easier for her to think you’ve grown than for her to be so concerned that you’re still so childish? and wouldn’t it be wonderful if she would just believe you? but you know she won’t, so you sit silently at the table and hum a lullaby to yourself in a language you wish you could teach her and wonder if a lifetime apart is too long to get to know someone again

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

[whiteshipnightjar]

Zoozve, my beloved

[valdotpng]

an accomplice turned victim his apology, long overdue

[artsymeeshee]

Haven’t collabed with @renconner in a long while for a mini comic (minus our big one, Instinct). We were talking about one of Stan’s lowest moments involving being outside with that damn sign, so we decided to make a comic with Stan remembering it. I’ve also kinda of assumed Filbrick would lie to Ford about what’s going on with Stan (Stan probably did too to some extent).

[cheesecakeyuri]

Holy shit guys.

This is so disheartening to see along with a slew of other posts making the same/similar points about the trump administration coming to power.

As an Australian (🇦🇺) I can confirm that the rest of the world is worried about you and how this will affect the future of all allies. In the last half of the day everyone had their laptops open in class so we could see the election map in real time. Everyone was routing for Kamala.

If you are a trans or queer person of any kind, a woman, or even a liberal man please do what you can to stay safe and low profile, keep informed and not turn a blind eye to what will happen.

I highly recommend leaving America for a good while or even consider immigrating to a country where the political system is more stable and straightforward. (Like Australia or England)

Stay safe out there and please don’t give up.

If by some miracle sweet potato Hitler doesn't win come the end of the week, this won't be necessary, but should he win here are some of the first things to be aware of or do.

If you know a trans person, no you don't. Respect them as best you can in private but you know nothing in public.

Be aware that TikTok will likely be banned, find new platforms to spread information. Fuck Twitter and what ever tiktok replacement he's working on.

Learn to Garden, even in winter so you can feed yourself should prices skyrocket

Get an air purifier. The Clean Air Act is likely to be stripped of its power with the EPA deregulated, air quality is going to suffer

Should you have kids, try to supplement history/social studies education. That's the first place they will attack, if you need help ask, history teacher will help

Try and do what you can to be aware of your health before January.

Help one another. That's the best way we can move forward and make change in the future.

[sayruq]

Some quotes:

[kensatou]

MONKEY MAN (2024)

[mythicalcoolkid]

[ID: 9 slides on types of condoms, each with pictures of (wrapped) condoms and credited to The BASE:

Female Condoms: Female condoms are worn in the vagina or rectum during sex. They are non-latex and can be placed up to 8 hours before intercourse. If used perfectly, they are 98% effective (used typically, they are 72% effective).

Extra-Large: Extra large condoms are longer and wider than typical male condoms, and a good choice for anyone who feels uncomfortable in the standard size.

Extra-Strength: Extra-strength condoms are good for rougher sex that might tear a regular condom, for climax control, and any sexual situation where you want a particularly strong condom.

Ultra-Thin/Sensitive: Ultra-thin and ultra-sensitive condoms are a great way to have safe sex when you're worried about condoms impacting sensation. They are thinner than regular condoms but still quite strong!

Flavored Condoms: Flavored condoms are great for fun and safe oral sex, but try to use non-flavored condoms for vaginal or anal intercourse, since some flavored condoms use sugars that can cause yeast infections. Yikes! Of course, using a flavored condom for vaginal/anal sex is better than no condom at all.

Ribbed Condoms: Ribbed condoms have small ridges in the latex that increase pleasure for the receiving partner. They're a fun way to have safe sex!

Studded Condoms: Studded condoms have little bumps along the shaft of the condom that give sex a fun twist! These are a great way to stay safe and try something new.

Lubricant: Always use water-based lubricant with latex condoms! Oil-based lubricants (like Vaseline) will break the condom. HIV and other STDs can pass through the condom before it is visibly degraded. Silicone-based lubricants are great for anal sex, since they are not absorbed by mucus membranes (meaning they last longer!), but will degrade silicone sex toys. Not all of them are latex-safe, so check before you use them!

Equipment Bags: The BASE offers free equipment bags which each contain one female non-latex condom, one XL condom, two studded condoms, two ribbed condoms, two ultra-thin condoms, two ultra-sensitive condoms, two flavored condoms, two extra-strength condoms, three packets of personal lubricant, and instructions for using both male and female condoms correctly.

End ID]

Equipment bags can be found in various small businesses throughout the East Harlem community, as well as at Harlem RBI.

A note on common condom names: Though condoms are usually called “male” and “female” condoms, it’s important to remember that people with penises do not always identify themselves as male, and people with vaginas do not always identify as female. “Female” condoms can also be worn by anyone, since they can be worn in vaginas and rectums.

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!