Rail-Line

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Rail Bridge And K-Line At San Bernardino by emd

It took an explosion and 13 pounds of iron to usher in the modern era of neuroscience.

In 1848, a 25-year-old railroad worker named Phineas Gage was blowing up rocks to clear the way for a new rail line in Cavendish, Vt. He would drill a hole, place an explosive charge, then pack in sand using a 13-pound metal bar known as a tamping iron.

But in this instance, the metal bar created a spark that touched off the charge. That, in turn, “drove this tamping iron up and out of the hole, through his left cheek, behind his eye socket, and out of the top of his head,” says Jack Van Horn, an associate professor of neurology at the Keck School of Medicine at the University of Southern California.

Gage didn’t die. But the tamping iron destroyed much of his brain’s left frontal lobe, and Gage’s once even-tempered personality changed dramatically.

“He is fitful, irreverent, indulging at times in the grossest profanity, which was not previously his custom,” wrote John Martyn Harlow, the physician who treated Gage after the accident.

This sudden personality transformation is why Gage shows up in so many medical textbooks, says Malcolm Macmillan, an honorary professor at the Melbourne School of Psychological Sciences and the author of An Odd Kind of Fame: Stories of Phineas Gage.

“He was the first case where you could say fairly definitely that injury to the brain produced some kind of change in personality,” Macmillan says.

Why Brain Scientists Are Still Obsessed With The Curious Case Of Phineas Gage

Photo via Wikimedia Commons

anonymous asked:

Hi cunt women are lesser animals,with usually smaller brains, less neurons, and less synapses. That's why women rely more on instinct and emotion, rather than logic or reason. That also explains women's relative lack of intellectual accomplishments or invention over the past 3,000 years (and more). Your gender's main contributions have been singing, giving birth, cooking and cleaning, Nearly everything women have accomplished is with help from men or from a group of men. Women deserve no rights

Hi dickhead I’m feeling petty this morning so I’m gonna eviscerate this swill part by part. It seems like the concept of basic science confuses you. I’ll start by citing this article for you and provide some choice quotes. It used a heavily peer-reviewed study and the methodology was completely sound (i read the whole goddamn original work and several of its external citations).

“On average, for example, men tend to have a larger amygdala, a region associated with emotion. Such differences are small and highly influenced by the environment, yet they have still been used to paint a binary picture of the human brain,“

“Depending on whether the researchers looked at gray matter, white matter, or the diffusion tensor imaging data, between 23% and 53% of brains contained a mix of regions that fell on the male-end and female-end of the spectrum. Very few of the brains—between 0% and 8%—contained all male or all female structures.” 

A list of early inventions by women (it includes elevated rail-lines, Kevlar, and the submarine telescope! the lack of patents taken out by women early on is actually because men made it illegal for a woman to hold a patent in her name until the early 1900s. those darn men, always inhibiting progress)

 A detailed list of several well-known contemporary female scholars

Here’s Wikipedia’s list of Muslim women who made significant intellectual achievements

A list of 30 Black women who made history

A detailed history of Asian women’s contributions

Notable Native American women from the past 350 years

Here’s TWO articles on the contributions of trans women in contemporary culture (the first one also includes nonbinary people, just a heads up. It seemed more relevant than many of the others tho)

You know what fuck you here’s 50 more women who did important shit

Wikipedia’s history of lesbian literature (which lists a lot of books and authors)

Tbh I do agree with you on the singing being a main contribution, just because women have nicer voices (in my opinion) and are much more likely to use their songwriting expertise to push activist and progressive agendas.

Maybe don’t come into my inbox with this shit when you don’t know what you’re talking about? Put away the 18th century medical book and take a chill pill.

9

http://www.nexusmods.com/newvegas/mods/59674/?

New Vegas Railroads is now out!

You ever find it funny that even though the NCR canonically have working railroads, and New Vegas is a high-profile area, there’s no working trains, freight or otherwise?

I did. And because I’m the best, I’ve decided to add some actual trains to New Vegas.
But then I decided to go the extra mile.
Welcome to New Vegas Railroads. A worldspace/immersion mod that aims to get the Mojave moving a little bit, by expanding upon the NCR’s often mentioned but little seen railroading endeavors.
With this, the player may travel to the town of Bullhead, the major NCR railroad hub in the Mojave, and help them get New Vegas’ railroads back up and running.
But even if they choose to ignore that, Bullhead Railyard is full of things to do, with tons of unique weapons, equipment, and secrets scattered about.

FEATURES
-A new worldspace, Bullhead Depot, the major rail hub for all westbound freight in the NCR, connected to the Mojave via tunnel. With a massive amount of little features, secret areas, and more!
-Bullhead features working signal lights, trains configurations changing as the day goes on (but only if you get the trains running), working lifts, and much, much more.
-New equipment, all train themed of course! From railway rifles, crossing-gate melee weapons, and a locomotive-themed powerfist, plus much, MUCH more.
-After the player saves Sloan from the deathclaws, and deals with the Powder Gangers, they can head to Colonel Hammer, the overseer at Bullhead, and inform him the tracks are clear.
-Once they do this, trains will start traveling along the Bullhead-Sloan-Boulder City rail line, with set schedules!
-The ability to catch a train out of Bullhead, and ride it across the wasteland to Sloan, Boulder, or the Follower’s trainyard!
-A multitude of trains, most of them are standard Barstow diesels, but we have a special massive steam locomotive, the Twohead Flyer, ready for action.
-Ability to watch the Twohead Flyer depart Bullhead and arrive in Boulder. It even crushes NPCs on the way!
-Four fully voiced, unique NPCs.

I want to start with a bold statement.

For far too long in this country, progressive Canadians have been fighting a rearguard action against privatization, deregulation and austerity. In many ways when it comes to privatization its become a one-way street. Right wing governments, privatize, we fight back, but we don’t aim to take anything back that belongs to us.

I’ll give you an example from my region. In 1997, the Liberals privatized the Hudson’s Bay Rail Line in the port of Churchill. They sold it for almost nothing to a US billionaire, who hangs out with people like the Koch Brothers. Now this year, this company asked for subsidization by the government. When they didn’t get it, they shut the port down; Canada’s only deep water arctic seaport.

The solution is obvious; Nationalize the Port.

Work with First Nations and Northern Communities to build a future. But what’s been the response from the Federal Liberals? Not only have they not moved forward to renationalize, but they are embarking on an unprecedented privatization plan for Transportation Infrastructure across our country.

So I think its time in this country, that we start saying: You Privatize it, We nationalize it. “You deregulate it, we regulate it. You bring in unfair trade deals, we bring in fair trade deals.

And increasingly I think we have to say something else. One of the leading Black Lives Matters activists in Toronto, Hashim Yussuf, said at our national forum on precarious work, he shared a chant that Black Lives Matter put out. That talked about how we all need to recognize

"The system isn’t broken, it was built this way”.

What we need in this country is a major change to that system. It starts with recognizing that one of the main reasons we have growing inequality; the reason that indigenous people live in third world living conditions; the reason that discrimination and division is still present; the reason women are still unequal; the reason millennials are faced with precarious employment and high student debt is because of a system that is failing all of us.

We must send a message that there is a better way.
—  NDP MP Niki Ashton. She’s running to be the leader of the New Democratic Party (NDP).
Evermore

Summary: Loosely inspired by the song “Evermore” from Beauty and the Beast. Bucky had it all planned out. He spent days planning the perfect proposal - the perfect proposal for the perfect girl, but things don’t always go according to plan. 

Word Count: 1,731

Warnings: Angst


Originally posted by trevanterhodes


Bucky fidgeted with the velvet jewelry box nervously, pausing every now and then to glance back at the door to his apartment. Any moment, Y/N would come walking through, her warm smile lighting up the apartment. Hers was the smile that somehow managed to steal into his melancholy heart, the smile that melted the layers of frost and gave way to spring, the one that nurtured the tiny, fragile seeds of love little by little until they blossomed.

Keep reading

In a Town Called Darling

Sad that The Walking Dead is ending for the season next week? Not looking forward to a summer with no Negan, no Daryl, and no Simon? Still missing Merle? Don’t worry; we’ve got you covered!

Introducing Darling

Darling was the kind of town that could win competitions for its beauty. Neat rows of shops all freshly painted, lawns trimmed, flower boxes overflowing. Kids went to school, people worked hard, and the local sheriff had been doing the job for over ten years without complaints. But despite its picture-perfect beauty, Darling didn’t get out of town visitors. There were no happy families staying at the motel to take a stroll around the pristine streets because at the edge of this town with its whitewashed churches and a rail line that divided the very rich from the ordinary was a building, all grey concrete with a metal gate and a sign that said, ‘No Trespassing’.

The men that met in the cover of these walls called themselves the Saviors, but they weren’t men of God. They were men of metal, the tarmac of the road, and the freedom of the ride. Saviors MC, Georgia. Ride, Fight, Survive.


Introducing a new multichaptered fic brought to you by @superprincesspea, @ladylorelitany, @lucifers-trash-stash & @vizhi0n

If you like Negan, Daryl, Simon and Merle. If you like drama, angst, fluff, romance and smut. If you like our favourite TWD men in a biker AU world then please follow this new blog and reblog the post. Let us know that you want it; once we reach 200 followers, we’ll start posting prequels that give you a glimpse into the world of Darling! 

More details are to follow. 

anonymous asked:

The reader eloping with the Gladio and the chocobros as best men? Maybe her parents didn't want them married?

This is so cuuuuuuuute omg. I hope this is okay, I think it’s a little rushed but I hope you enjoy in any case. Just a small drabble to tide you guys over, maybe I’ll revisit this idea some day. ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

“Where are we going?” Prompto whined from the back seat. “And how come I can’t drive shotgun?”

“Pipe down,” Gladio ordered from behind the wheel, shooting him an irate glance in the rearview mirror. You gently patted his arm from the seat beside him, a small smile on your face. You and Gladio had told your friends that you wanted to take them on a small road trip, but didn’t tell them where you were going. You loaded them up in the back of the Regalia, and started off down the road.

“I must admit,” Ignis chimed in from the back seat. “I’m rather curious as to our destination. We seem to be heading south—what business could the two of you possibly have south of the Crown City?”

“Just enjoy the ride, Iggy,” you replied coyly, turning to wink at him. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The drive was long, and the sun beat down from the sky. But Prompto kept asking where you were going and if you were there yet, and Gladio kept barking at him that you were getting close.

Eventually, the Regalia pulled into the parking lot and Gladio stopped the car.

Noctis peered around, and saw nothing but ocean, a blue horizon for as far as the eye could see. “Are we in Galdin Quay?”

“Galdin Quay?” Prompto repeated. “What are we doing here?”

“Fishing trip?” Noctis asked, his voice carrying a hopeful tone.

“No,” you answered, stepping out of the car and pulling out a duffel bag from the trunk. You looked over at Gladio, whose face was rosy as he bit back a smile. “Gladdy and I are getting married.”

Noctis and Prompto almost fell out of the car, while Ignis gracefully exited on the other side.

“You’re getting WHAT?”

“Fill them in, would you, hon?” you rose to your tip toes to give Gladio a peck on the lips. “I’m going to check into our rooms.”

He nodded and swatted your ass as you walked away, earning a yelp and a playful glare as you headed towards the reception desk. Gladio turned to see his three friends staring impatiently at him, demanding an explanation.

“Well?” Prompto asked, tapping his foot against the ground with his arms folded over his chest. “When were you gonna tell us, Big Guy?”

Gladio scratched at the back of his head. “We didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” he admitted. “You know how her parents are. They don’t really approve of our relationship.”

“Have they ever offered you an explanation as to why, aside from the fact that your profession keeps you tied to the Crown?” Ignis inquired, his hands on his hips.

Gladio shook his head. “No. I think maybe they just don’t like me. Can’t say that us eloping is going to do me any favours, but…” he sighed, looking off at where you were. “I love her. And I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Noctis punched Gladio on the bicep, and then recoiled, shaking out his hand. Gladio snorted. “I’m happy for you, Gladio,” he said once he recovered. “I remember when you met her. You told me and the guys that you wanted to marry her right then and there.”

Gladio shrugged. “That hasn’t changed. Clearly.”

“Come,” Ignis led his friends in the direction of the hotel. “I think it’s best that we get the groom ready for his own wedding.”

The sun was starting to set at the end of the dock as Gladio stood there next to the pastor, waiting for you to arrive. He’d changed into white pants and a white button-down shirt, opting to actually wear it properly this time. His friends stood alongside him in a row, and Prompto had his camera at the ready.

Small white twinkle lights lined the railings of the dock, and little candles were on each side, creating an aisle that led to the groom.

When Gladio saw you, his jaw slowly dropped.

You were dressed in a simple white gown, spaghetti-strapped and flowing around your frame, your hair curled neatly over one shoulder. You wore a bird-cage veil that was pinned to the side of your head, and in your hand you held a bouquet of light pink gladioli.

You smiled when you reached him, and could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes. Ignis took the flowers from you and you gripped onto Gladio’s hands, which were clammy and shaking. You were sure that yours were the same.

The pastor made his speech. He turned to Gladio, and he turned to you. He had you repeat each other’s names, and then Gladio pulled the rings out of his pocket. He put yours on your finger, whispering his vows in your ear with a trembling voice. You put the ring on his, trying to get the words out past the tears pricking the corners of your eyes and the tightness of your throat.

Finally, you heard the words. “You may kiss the bride.”

Gladio wasted no time, pulling you against him and pressing his lips against yours. He dipped you down low as your arms came to wrap around his neck. The guys cheered and Prompto snapped away with his camera, blubbering at how romantic it was.

“I love you,” Gladio whispered into your ear. “Until my dying breath, I love you.”

You looked up at your new husband and smiled so wide that your cheeks hurt, never wanting the moment to end. You rose to your toes and kissed him again as the sun dipped below the horizon, signalling the start of your new life together.

madamemarquise  asked:

Hello, it´s a little strange for me to ask for my own birthday present, but I´ll try anyway. My b-day is on 16th of February and I´d love me some "it would have happened anyway" in Panem AU or historical Everlark, rated M. Thank you for this wonderful blog!

Originally posted by pastel-spotted-weeb

Happy birthday @madamemarquise! It is always okay with us to send in your own ask. ;) We hope your day is amazing! Here is your ‘It would have happened anyway’ ficlet, courtesy of the very talented @xerxia31. Enjoy!


Destiny

rated T

The day of Peeta Mellark’s last reaping dawned gloriously, with a pink-and-gold sunrise sliding back to reveal blue skies, and a soft breeze fluttering through the open windows. But he couldn’t enjoy it, and not just because he was holed up in the bakery, toiling in front of the ovens.

He couldn’t enjoy it because he was terrified about Katniss, the girl he’d had a crush on since forever. It would be her last reaping too, one way or another.

It was the another thought that had him so worked up.

Peeta had spent three-quarters of his life watching Katniss Everdeen. Watching the sweet, vibrant girl who sang like an angel - but was forced to grow up far too fast - turn into a strong, independent, often-scowling woman. In the years since her father died, in the years since that gut-wrenching day she’d appeared at the back of the bakery, skeletal and with eyes already dead, Katniss had learned to take care of herself and her family. And Peeta had been watching. He knew each time she took out tesserae, had been mentally counting her slips in the reaping bowls for six long years. And this year, her name was in the reaping twenty-eight times. Twenty-eight!

Keep reading

The Story of Us

PROLOGUE || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 

Chapter Eleven: Tightrope Dreamer

Word Count: 6779

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

“Be down in a second!” Mabel calls out to Thomas followed by a squeak directed at Riley.

“Meow.” Riley giggles softly, referencing a previous ‘scaredy cat’ comment Mabel made about herself.

Mabel stands by Riley’s bed completely frozen. 

“Go on then.” Riley giggles as she gives Mabel a gentle shove. “He’s waiting.” 

“Come with me?” Mabel asks hopefully. 

“I can’t come with you.” Riley’s soft laughter continues.

Eventually, Mabel does make her way downstairs and opens Jed’s front door. She jumps a little in place when she finds Thomas standing directly on the other side of it. 

“Sorry.” He chuckles quietly with a gaze pointed at the ground. He looks up slowly, focussing mainly on her clothes. “Are you in pyjamas?”

Keep reading

300 words a day challenge entry 1 - fic: Elevator

“Oh, um, hi Mr. Laufeyson.”

Loki looked up from looking at his phone, momentarily confused as he was still deep in thought about his reply to the business offer that had landed in his inbox just seconds ago. He missed the elevator stopping, even the little ding of the doors opening and he was now faced, quite surprised, with the slightly nervous face of one of the interns.

“Hello, Thor.”

The boy gave him a polite, albeit a little strained smile. The elevator doors shut close seamlessly and they started moving downwards again, though Loki could no longer focus on his emails.

Funnily enough, Thor was a distant relative of his, though that wasn’t how he got his internship at one of the most successful companies in their field. His resume was quite impressive for someone that young, and Loki didn’t doubt the stories he had heard about old man Odin when he read through Thor’s accomplishments. He’d been worked hard.

He was just opening his mouth in order to start off some kind of a conversation about Thor’s experience working there, the usual stuff, when the elevator stopped abruptly, shaking ominously.

The lights went out.

And then they came back on again, partially. Loki almost wished it had stayed dark, because the deep shadows in a space usually bright lit were making him uneasy. Along with the fact that they were now hanging god knows how far up in the air in a little metal cage, that is.

“Fuck,” Thor was saying.

Loki, frankly, agreed. He cleared his throat, forcing his hand to let go of the steely grip he had on the railing that lined the walls of the elevator. Then he checked his phone for signal.

There, obviously, was not any.