Historical accuracy ftw

In these trying times of the Tumblocalypse, we gotta stick together.

and guess what I found out?

GUESS WHAT I FOUND OUT???

a gender neutral term for a nephew or niece is the incredibly adorable and wholly excellent title “niefling”

The Vox article that I was interviewed for is up and running, and it contains some serious fuckign information about this whole fiasco.

Information that tumblr just straight up refused to provide to its userbase at all.

Unsurprisingly to those of us watching this website deteriorate over the last year, this full content purge and ban has been in progress for a solid 6 months. The date got moved up because of the child porn thing, but it was always coming for us.

Equally unsurprising: Tumblr’s management and ownership are absolutely destroying the actual staff working on it. The company has been hemoragghing senior staff without so much as a token attempt to keep them in place. So the drops in site quality are real, and wil probably only be getting worse.

Once a year, in the winter, the fog comes. It crowds every house in the central valley, clinging to your skin like glue. You used to love it as a child. Now you know not to leave your house when the fog comes.

The road by the levee is apathetic to those who ride her pavement under the sunlight. But the levee roads turn cruel at night, twisting and turning, pulling drivers towards the river.

You’re taking a trip to Oregon, following the roads north. You pass through the town of Weed, California. “What an odd name for a town,” you think to yourself. As you drive through, you see buildings, but never any people. The vending machines at the rest stop are empty.

The ocean under the night sky is as Death Valley is at night. Beautiful, terrifying, and flat for as far as the horizon, and no where to hide from the stars, staring from above like a thousand eyes.

You merge from the 5 to the 405. You drive through the deserts if Cali, heading to L.A. Ahead, you see a single gas station, hours away from any human settlements. The lights are on, but when you enter, no one is there.

The mountain forests are old, far older than us. At night, your campfires smolder quicker than usual. The owls cry throughout the night. When you look away from the camp, you swear you see something passing between the trees, all around you. Waiting. Watching.