The Swan, 1915, by Hilma Af Klint

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@weirdkarma
The Swan, 1915, by Hilma Af Klint

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Whenever I hear someone say "the woke mob" I have to stop myself from laughing because even today all I can think of is this fucking tweet
Happy Pride to the Woke Mob
Youāre a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kidsā parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.
[Audio starts]
āMom has been texting me for the last twenty minutes. She wants me to come home. Itās a four hour drive, when the roads are clear, and from what I hear everybody is trying to get somewhere right now. Thereās no telling if Iād even-ā
āEverybody else has left. All the other kids were picked up, the other staff left. They gave me all the keys. I promised to stay and wait for as long as- well. Even if some of the parents show up, I guess some of them wonāt, so Iām just waiting. Until.ā
[Clears throat.]
āA couple of people came after everybody left. Peter, one of Aidanās fathers, gave me three hundred dollars for staying. What am I going to do with money? Itās- anyway. I kind of get it. He wanted to give me something.ā
[Audio ends]
[Audio starts]
āTheyāre all between 2 and 4.ā Sniff. āTheyāre so little. Too little to really- maybe if they were older, Iād have to tell them something. But um. Iām just- trying to stay calm and keep them happy and occupied. I think thatās the best thing, right now.ā
[Heaving breaths.]
āI normally use this recorder to help me remember stuff. Itās just, uh, habit to talk to it. I donāt know. Theyāre napping, right now. Iāve got the baby monitor, they know that if they talk into it, Iāll come, so-ā
[Sobbing.]
[Audio ends]
[Audio starts]
āMom keeps texting, so I blocked her. I sent her a text telling her goodbye, first, but. I do. But these kids need me.ā
[Sniff.]
āI tried calling their parents again, but I canāt get anybody. Itās just busy signals. I called the firefighter station, 911. I canāt get through to anybody.ā
[Shaky breath.]
āI went out into the yard. Um, I think they can play. Itās nice out, and you canāt really see it yet. Little bit of a glimmer, if they ask Iāll just tell them itās a plane, but itās nice out and weāve got hours before-ā
[Murmuring childās voice, indistinguishable.]
[Audio ends]
Keep reading
There is a forbidden type of magic out there. It isnāt forbidden because itās inherently evil, or forces you to lose your humanity, or requires human sacrifices - itās just forbidden because itās annoying as heck to fight against.
āMaāam, I really must insist that you pay for the room and board Iāve been giving you! Itās been a week!ā
āFine, fine,ā I grumble. āI have a few options for payment: I could give you paper money, cheap gaudy jewelry, chocolate coins, spiders, some pretty seashells-ā
āSpiders????ā he repeats, baffled.
āSpiders it is, then,ā I agree equitably, and with a wave of my hand the bed Iāve been sleeping in for the last week turns into a writhing mass of various spiders.
Worth it.
ā
āStop right there! Youāre under arrest for fraud, destruction of property, and-!ā
I yawn. āDidnāt ask, donāt care.ā A few gestures, and the guardsā swords are all transmuted into spiders, and then theyāre too busy to worry about little olā me.
ā
āYou have insulted my honor and humiliated me in front of my children! I demand satisfaction! I demand a wizardās duel!ā
Shrugging, I say, āSure, okay, whatever. Right here and now okay?ā
The pompous wizard-noble blinks. āI- you donāt want to prepare? Get your wizardās staff or anything?ā
āNah, Iām pretty good with somatic gestures.ā
āWell, if youāre sure⦠here and now then! Have at you!ā He slams his staff down on the ground dramatically, a small shockwave of fire radiating out from the impact.
So of course, I turn his staff into spiders.
āAHHHH WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCKā
āSo if youāre too busy screaming to cast spells, does that mean I win?ā
āAUGH ONE OF THEM BIT MEā
āIām taking that as a yes.ā
ā
After that, they start coming at me in waves, with cheap wands and staves and swords and bows bought in bulk, hoping to exhaust my magical reserves so they can get close enough to put a magic inhibitor on me.
They did not expect my reserves to be as vast as they were, not did they expect me to be able to transmute the inhibitors themselves into spiders.
āDidnāt you take Magic Basics in wizard college?ā I yell at the panicking mages. āInhibitors arenāt immune to magic until the moment they activate! Serious weak point in the design, tell your magitechnicians to fix that!ā
ā
So of course they try assassins next.
Poison fails, because I transmute any food and drink I get into spiders and then transmute them back. Pretty easy way to get rid of poison.
So then they try knives in dark alleys. The knives bruise through my full-body spider-silk outfit, but do not penetrate, and they only get one shot before they have bigger problems.
Next is killing me in my sleep. None live to report back that the human-shaped lump under the blankets is actually a mass of highly venomous spiders.
The kingdom throws everything it has at me, and I continue to walk away, heralded by the chittering of spiders and the screams of everyone else.
ā
Finally, I stand before the king himself in his overly opulent throne room, and by now he is a broken shell of a man in the face of my unorthodox tactics.
Good.
āWhat do you want?ā he practically sobs. āYouāve singlehandedly redirected the entire crownās budget for the next three years into replacing every weapon youāve turned into spiders. Much more and weāll be invaded by our neighbors! We wouldnāt be able to resist being annexed! So what can I give you to make you stop doing this?!ā
I pause and pretend to consider, tapping a finger against my chin thoughtfully. āYou know, you sent my brother off to war a few years back. That conflict with the Yughs up north, I believe. He didnāt want to go, so your guards forced him at spearpoint. I havenāt seen him since.ā
He seizes on that, as I expected. āYes, yes, Iāll have him returned right away! Tell me his name and Iāll honorably release him from duty and have him escorted safely home!ā
āOh?ā I raise one sardonic eyebrow. āAre you able to bring back the dead now, oh wise and glorious king?ā
He pales, and itās the most satisfying thing Iāve seen in years.
āYou have nothing I want,ā I growl, letting the anger slip through for the first time in years. āYou cannot bring him back, you cannot make up for my loss with all the riches in your kingdom. The only thing I want is to take everything from you, the way you did to me. Your kingdom will bleed out of resources, one of the neighboring countries youāve been trying to conquer for decades now will take advantage and annex this place, and you will either be executed or forced to work for a living for the first time in your life.ā
I glare at him, and he refuses to meet my eyes. āYou will lose everything you ever cared about in your life. One spider at a time.ā
I transmute his throne and crown into spiders (non-deadly; he doesnāt get to escape my wrath that easily), then turn and walk away, ignoring his screams and sobs.
ā
And thatās why, when the Yughs finally annexed the kingdom I grew up in, they preemptively made Transarachnomancy a forbidden magical art. Not sure how they intend to enforce that, mind, but Iām not looking to challenge that. Iāve gotten what I wanted; if some other aspiring mage wants to try and follow in my footsteps, thatās not my problem.
Besides, in terms of magical skill, Iāve always been an outlier anyway. Most mages would be lucky to turn just one knife into a spider at a time; I can turn ten thousand with a few gestures. I doubt anyone will outdo my legacy.
But hey, if you want to try and surpass Georgia of the Spiders? Feel free. Iāll welcome the competition.
Amazing A+ no notes
Perfection.

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My abortion was really one the most hated kind of abortion. I wasn't underage. I wasn't raped. I wasn't in medical need.
I got pregnant not through some fluke or 1 in a 100 contraceptive failure. I got pregnant because I was knowingly and willfully having unprotected sex. Out of wedlock too if that matters.
It was my own fault, I was being irresponsible because I knew I could always get an abortion if I got pregnant. My abortion was as close as it comes to 'using abortion as a contraceptive' as anti-choicers love to say.
I didn't abort it because my health was in danger or because I didn't have the ability to care for it or whatever else. I did it purely because I didn't want a child. I wanted sex and I didn't want to deal with any consequences from it.
There's no moral here. I don't feel bad about it whatsoever. I suffered no karmic consequences or punishment from god. My life is amazing. I want to rub this in the face of every conservative and anti-choicer. I did the terrible thing. I had an abortion for the most selfish of reasons and literally nothing happened. Suck it.
Ever since I got a job as a security guard I canāt take heist movies seriously anymore.
Why is that?
Accurate heist movie: The Team is sneaking into a high security facility. An alarm is triggered, they freeze, prepared to knock out whoever responds to the alarm. It takes 40 minutes for someone to respond. When they finally do show up, they shuffle along, annoyed, arms full of 16 bags of pretzels for some reason, and reset the alarm without bothering to check their surroundings. They report that the alarm went off in error. Security control starts a fight about the correct designation of the door. The guard announces that theyāre leaving the alarm key in the alarm because itās always going off for no reason. No one challenges them on this. They shuffle away, leaving an alarm key and several bags of pretzels behind.
The Team knocks out a security guard and steals their radio. The team mimic can perfectly replicate the knocked out guardās voice. They get caught because they pronounced the name of the company correctly.
The Team disables an alarm. The only way to do this is to rip it out of the wall and disassemble it until it physically canāt make noise anymore. This very loud process is clearly heard by the posted security guard nearby, who rolls their eyes and text their supervisor that the logistics contractors are fooling with the alarms again.
The Team breaks into the facility at night. There they meet a single security guard who is chanting potential names for NPCs in their DnD campaign out loud while they do their patrols. They encounter a fire extinguisher. They pause in their chanting to check that it is properly charged and to apply a sticker that reads,Ā āAnal use onlyā. This guy is disgustingly good at their job. Thereās no way around it, theyāre going to catch you. And youāre going to have to deal with the fact that youāve been had by someone who has a supply of stickers that sayĀ āAnal use onlyā and who unironically wanted to name their NPC shopkeep Mammogrammus.
The Team attempts to bribe a security guard. This is its own post but know thereās no way in hell that would work.
The Team breaks into the high security room and disables all the alarms. Security control sends several guards to investigate why there are no alarms going off.
The Team attempts to break into the high security room but canāt because itās randomly decided not to let anyone at all in today.
The Team steals a keycard withĀ āāāāāunlimitedāāāāā access to the facility and gets caught because the computer system that manages keycards randomly revokes access for no reason.
The Team walks past a security guard in broad daylight wearing T-shirts that say,Ā āWe are here to rob youā. The security guard does nothing, having seen several people in logistics wearing that exact shirt two days prior.
This sounds like a great movie, honestly
I will always remember that when I worked for a pharmaceutical company in IT, there were massive security procedures, systems with air gaps, locations with biometric scanners and metal detectors and locking revolving doors, but the highest level of security was a human being in a bulletproof proof room with line of sight to the door and a button. To /get/ to the door, you had to go through tons of other layers and badge access and identity verification, but the final lock was a dual physical key (which required two people to open) and a human being with a book of photographs and a button to push.
At the onset of the 2008-onward recession it became more or less impossible to get the sort of summer gig that college students traditionally get. I couldnāt get a callback from any of the area fast food restaurants, the babysitting gigs were gone, I drew blanks on waitressing, dishwashing, landscaping, car washes, summer camps, you name it. The big local summer attraction near me is a horse racetrack, and I put in apps for every position from betting clerk to horse manure removal tech. I got one (1) job offer that summer, and it was to be a security guard. I was a 19 year old girl with a perky ponytail, big olā doe eyes, and no experience or interest whatsoever in policing, so I genuinely thought Iād gotten the offer because theyād confused my application with someone elseās⦠until the first day of training.
Training consisted of a number of retired high ranking New York State Troopers very earnestly trying to convince a room of ādudes who desperately wanted to be a cop but couldnāt jump even that low hurdleā and also āone increasingly incredulous 19 year old girl who could only hear a loud high pitched note in one ear because she stood too close to her amps at the punk show last nightā not to bring swords, shurukens, or butterfly knives into work.
We went over the ādo not bring in your own weaponsā lecture for the majority of day 1 of training. Day 2 was also ādo not bring in your own weaponsā for a lot of the day, then we moved onto āidentifying the different types of fire extinguisher,ā and wrapped up the day with āwasp stings.ā Well, actually during āwasp stingsā we had a sidebar when this one guard who looked like Ben Franklin raised his hand and shared that he, personally, took care of wasps by blowing their nests up with improvised gasoline-based explosives, so technically we wrapped up the day with ādo not bring in your own weapons even if those weapons are to harm a wasp.ā
Day 3 was a half day, where we reviewed everything weād learned about no weapons, fire extinguishers, and wasps, and then we took a written test, which I finished with a perfect score in three minutes so Sargeant Minetti made me grade everyone elseās. After that, I was a full ass security guard; I picked up my fake cop uniform, badge(!!!), tiny notebook, strapped a walkie to my belt, and was given my assignment. My beat was very very literally the most public facing one that existed; while most of my colleagues were posted at gates that might never get opened for the entire summer, I had āthe wholeass quarter mile of pavement abutting the chain link fence that separated the public from the ponies.ā My responsibilities were simple:
1. tell people to move their rolling coolers out of the fire lane
2. take people with wasp stings to the nurse
and oh yeah
3. every time a clerk at a betting window in my section accumulated more than $10,000 dollars in cash, I had to escort them for ½ of a mile through the incredibly dense crowd of drunk people, any of whom might be interested in stealing more than $10,000 dollars, and get the money safely into the giant vault.
I remember the very first run i made. The betting clerk looked at me, the 19 year old responsible for protecting both them and $10,000. I looked back at him through the mirrored aviators that Iād bought at a gas station for 5 bucks because I thought it was very very funny and good fake cop cosplay. My walkie hissed ominously.
āā¦Uh, so if someone tries to take the money, what are you going to do?ā He asked.
āWell, I get paid 12 bucks an hour, so⦠nothing.ā I responded. āHow about you?ā
We quickly arrived at an understanding.
Two of the guards from my training group got fired that summer for bringing in their own weapons, and at least one of them had both a butterfly knife and at least one shuruken. Many more dropped out as they discovered that they would not actually be doing Die Hard shit. As for me, I did literally nothing to prevent crime all summer, but I also halfheartedly cleared a path through the crowd at the front of a very sad āSt. Patrickās Day In Julyā parade, which made me enough of a success story that they actually called me unprompted to ask if Iād come back the next year⦠with one caveat.
See, the next year I returned as a weathered veteran with a spotless disciplinary record, so they gave me three hours of additional training to get a certification to become a peace officer. As a result, from ages 20-23 (when my license expired) I had the same legal powers of arrest as a police officer.
Me. They just gave me that.
In conclusion, if youāre a highly qualified team of heistmen looking to rob an entity that accumulates wealth by convincing drunk desperate people to give them their money and you pick a fucking casino when the racetrack is right there, youāre either thinking way too inside the box⦠or you have a healthy fear of shurukens I guess.
Only valid response to this post, everyone else can go home.
Something that I get chills about is the fact that the oldest story told made by the oldest civilization opens with "In those days, in those distant days, in those ancient nights."
This confirms that there is a civilization older than the Sumerians that we have yet to find
Some people get existential dread from this
Me? I think it's fucking awesome it shows just how much of this world we have yet to discover and that is just fascinating
@makaeru peer review cos this made me check when the Sumerians happened and I forget how recent history is for every other continent. 7000 - 8000 years ago just isn't that long when you're in Australia, and the amount of detailed history we have access to here is wonderful and should be recognised more internationally
Source (non Aboriginal)
And a quote I picked out from a longer interview with an Aboriginal local elder about the area where he touched on the history
Source (the rest of the interview is really interesting and all transcribed, have a look if you're curious)
This is part of my Ancient Civilizations class that I teach, which does a whole week about Australia and the Torres Strait Islands because I was sick of never seeing them represented in USAmerican history contexts. With the help of @micewithknives and @acearchaeologist I've learned so many incredible things about Australia's past and it's been incredibly rewarding to share them with students.
My favorite fact about Aboriginal oral history is the fact that we pretty recently discovered that the Aboriginal myth of the 7 Sisters, an origin story for the Pleiades star cluster, accurately reflects a point TEN THOUSAND YEARS AGO when two stars in the constellation got close enough together to no longer be distinguishable by the naked eye.
The story? 6 sisters running from something that took their 7th sister.
as a gilgar gunditj woman, i was not expecting to see my culture on my dash.
thank you for spreading our words and treating our culture with respect.
Boosting signal.
Echoes from the ancient human past, wonderful.
Their oral history also contains stories about hunting prehistoric megafauna too. Native Australians are the oldest existing culture on earth, which is even more amazing considering how hard the british tried to wipe it out.
Budji Bim volcano.
such a sanji song!!
āSubvertingā Catholic art? Oh, okay. I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You log onto the internet and you post about how āWound of Christā from Psalter and Prayer Book of Bonne de Luxembourg, attributed to Jean le Noir, c.1349, for instance, looks like a vulva because you're trying to tell the world that you enjoy Catholic art and imagery in an alternative, queer, risquĆ© way that challenges Christian beliefs. But what you don't know is that that stigma isnāt just a vulva. It's not just a mandorla. It's not just yonic. It's actually intentionally erotic. And you're also blithely unaware of the fact that around 1297, Saint Angela of Foligno experienced a vision of Christ himself, who called her to put her mouth to the wound in his side and lick the freshly flowing blood. And then I think it was Saint Catherine of Siena who drank blood and a clear liquid from the wound before receiving a ring made from Christās foreskin? And then graphically erotic encounters with the side wound of Christ quickly showed up in the writings of eight different mystics. And then the yonic interpretation of the stigmata filtered down through the illuminated manuscripts and then trickled on down into some pseudo-intellectual corner of the internetā¦where you, no doubt, fished it out of some Pinterest board. However, that interpretation represents hundreds of years and countless visions of religious ecstasy. And it's sort of comical how you think that you've come up with an idea that exempts you from Christian theology when, in factā¦you're posting an image that was sexualized for you by the very Medieval saints you think youāre so different thanā¦from āsubvertedā Catholic art.

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I have never read or watched Death Note and i know the whole ābook that kills peopleā premise but from all the shit i see on here it seems to be two teenaged boys acting out this scene over and over
I think one of the funniest abortion stances I've heard was from my parents neighbor. He's a like, hard-core libertarian viking larper guy who is very tall and very fat and very bald.
He believes a fetus is human with a soul, but also its "basically attacking the woman's body" so if she wants to get rid of it, that's "basically self-defense". He compared it to shooting a home invader. So he supports abortion not as healthcare, but as killing a baby in self-defense
Y'know I'm so glad someone reminded me of this. Because this was also discussed.
My stepmother did NOT like the way her Libertarian Viking Neighbor framed pregnancy as the fetus "attacking the woman". She incredulously told him this was extremely disrespectful to expectant mothers to portray pregnancy as so violent and negative.
Libertarian Viking Neighbor's response was that people consensually hurt each other all the time, and "there's like a whole community about that, with the acronym the one that starts with a B" And his reasoning was that if the mother was consenting to bring attacked by the baby, it in fact wasn't violent and negative because there was consent.
He brought up people consensually hurting each other, didn't go for one of the obvious answers like boxing or body mods or something, no he went STRAIGHT TO BDSM and he DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER THE ACRONYM
Mulder & Scully will wake up in the middle of the night & instinctively reach for the phone to call each other only to remember they sleep in the same bed now so they can just turn over
*scully whispering two inches from mulders face at 2am*: mulder itās me
i have a Persian agenda where i encourage every man i know to grow the longest and prettiest hair possible
personal agenda. Personal.
iām speechless. thereās a guy for everything.

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Louis le Brocquy - Girl in Grey (1939)
Day 180 since Craig moved in. he clearly thinks heās dating one of us but we canāt figure out who. itās possible one of us is lying about it for some reason but so far our efforts at inquisition has led nowhere. we would kick him out but heās been doing the dishes for us. weāve decided that for the sanity of the polycule weāll keep up the charade. if all of us continue to be flirty with him, heāll project his attraction onto whoever the hell he thinks is into him. this house of cards is delicate but necessary
It got funnier
This is how cats domesticated themselves