The end of online privacy
Now, this isn't something I usually post about from my silly goofy k1nk account (reminder to minors to not follow or scroll this acount).
But I have more followers on here than main, and this is extremely important. Like, scary shit.
This applies to everyone. If you're reading this? It's going to effect you.
I'm sure perhaps some of you have seen around about a this thing going around... KOSA, is one of the ways it's being referred to.
If this shit passes, lemme tell you...
LGBTQ+ adults and minors seeking help and community,
people looking for abortions,
people organizing protests,
anyone using their free speech to voice concerns about injustices,
even FAN ARTISTS...
Even people reading fan fiction...
And for the purposes of where I'm posting from... people sharing and enjoying their k1nks, wanting to post things with safety and privacy... smut artists and writers, people even LOOKING for smut...
It's all gone. No privacy.
They'll have your face, your name, your age, where you live.
You'll need an ID to use any US-based platform, even if you're NOT in the United States.
Instead of dooming, here's what you can do to stop this shit in it's tracks 👍
Here is a website where you can sign a letter just by filling out a form, (it takes less than 30 seconds) and where you can call reps.
I HIGHLY suggest leaving calls if you're able, and if you have phone shyness, do this after 6pm, since it will leave messages instead.
I'm shy, but I did it!
Here's another letter to sign, takes less than 20 seconds.
Here is a form you can fill out sharing how the social media has POSITIVELY effected you.
Share all of this with as many people as you can. Our safety, freedom, joy, and protection online is at risk more than ever.
(Here is the thread where I found all of this information.)
STAY SAFE!
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[Image ID:
A picture that says “A student once asked anthropologist Margaret Mead, “What is the earliest sign of civilization? The student expected her to say a clay pot, a grinding stone, or maybe a weapon.
Margaret Mead thought for a moment, then she said, “A healed femur.”
The second picture is a news headline. It is bolded and a much larger font. “27-year-old who couldn’t afford $1,200 insulin copay dies after trying cheaper version.”
The third picture is the same font and size as the Margaret Mead quote. It’s a continuation. It says, “A femur is the longest bone in the body, linking hip to knee. In societies without the benefits of modern medicine, it takes about six weeks of rest for a fractured femur to heal. A healed femur shows that someone cared for the injured person, did their hunting and gathering, stayed with them, and offered physical protection and human companionship until the injury could mend.”
The fourth picture is another headline. It is in a large and bolded type. “Dying man who couldn’t afford to go to hospital after vomiting blood"
The fifth picture is a screenshot of the Margaret Mead story.
Mead explained that where the law of the jungle—the survival of the fittest—rules, no healed femurs are found. The first sign of civilization is compassion, seen in a healed femur.
The next screenshot is of a slightly different font. The letters are pointier and the lines are a little curvier. It says, “Susan Finley returned to her job at a Walmart retail store in Grand Junction Colorado, after having to call in sick because she was recovering from pneumonia.
The day after she returned, the fifty three year old received her ten year associate award — and was simultaneously laid off, according to her family. She had taken off one day beyond what is permitted by Walmart’s attendance policy.
After losing her job in May 2016, Finley also lost her health insurance coverage and struggled to find a new job. Three months later, Finley was found dead in her apartment after avoiding going to see a doctor for flu-like symptoms.
A screenshot of a bold, bigger headline. It says ‘The house always wins’: Insurers’ record profits.
A final screenshot of smaller text with a slightly gray background. It says “We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilized.” /end ID.]
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to me, the funniest thing about “that’s rough buddy” isn’t the fact that sokka says something patently insane with zero context seemingly out of nowhere, or the fact that zuko clearly doesn’t know how to respond. it’s the completely incorrect use of the word “buddy.” zuko would obviously like to be friends with sokka, but sokka is not, in fact, his friend. this is the most time they’ve ever spent together, and it’s because zuko invited himself to tag along on sokka’s suicide mission. at this point in the episode, sokka still hates this guy, perhaps less than he did a week ago, but he still hates him enough that he didn’t bother forcing zuko to stay home, which means he still didn’t really care whether or not zuko lives or dies. which, considering that he had tried to kill zuko multiple times in the past, is not all that surprising. this entire episode is essentially just zuko forcing his friendship onto sokka while sokka is legitimately too depressed to care. so when zuko calls sokka “buddy,” there’s a spirit of dogged optimism characterizing that epithet, because in no possible realm would sokka consider zuko his buddy at this point in the episode. and that’s something we miss when noting the iconicness of this exchange, simply because, by the end of this episode, they are buddies, so in our minds looking back on these lines, the implication of friendship doesn’t feel out of place at all. and really, it isn’t out of place, but only because zuko’s tenacity and determination (in this instance, his determination to befriend sokka) has always hugely outweighed his ability to read the room.
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to you, it's a shitty sentence. to some random bitch 500 miles away, it's a fire line that'll haunt them for the next 17 years.
you don't know how impactful your writing is because it's been in your brain for far too long now. you've stared at it for hours and repeated "this sucks" over and over again to the point that you killed your capacity to feel anything about your work.
but trust me, once you get your shit out there, someone's gonna go over that paragraph you hate and go "jesus fucking christ" and put the book down to have an existential crisis.
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Lets create a house where yelling means we’re having fun. When you hear a door slam you know it was accidentally pulled with too much strength, not slammed out of anger. When there is silence, it is Contentment, not another passive aggressive fight. The dog is no longer barking to protect, he simply just wants the cats to play with him. Let’s create a safe, warm environment that makes you feel like you can breathe, not hold your breath. Let’s stomp on the eggshells we use to tip toe on. Together we will make this house into a home. And welcome all with open arms into this kind and loving space.
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