#a clue for future use

[mondoreb]

End Times Prophecy Headlines: December 4, 2023

End Times Prophecy Report.com HEADLINES MONDAY December 4, 2023 And OPINION “And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you.” —Matthew 24:4 “The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison.” —Fyodor Dostoevsky ===INTERNATIONAL UKRAINE: Ukraine’s Zelensky Orders Construction of Defenses to Hold Back Russia UKRAINE: Ukraine’s…

[ixylle-d-from-the-stars]

Deathworlders everywhere but in Space

This is sitting in my brain because I haven't seen anyone else do this, but take a second to think about this: There are other deathworlders in space, terrifying ones, huge monster orc things. They are massive and nightmarish and impossibly strong. So thats why humans stand out. Thats how we survive. Human's are terrifying because we aren't built for one biome, one climate or even one planet. We aren't necessarily the strongest or fastest or scariest looking, but we're built to survive fucking everything. What if other deathworlder's are almost always only made to survive in one climate? (similar to some of the most deadly predators on earth currently) All the other deathworlders are terrifying, yes, but the second they step off their planet they're weak. Massive aliens of hulking muscle but their planet's gravity is a lot lower than the standard, so they barely meet the average strength bar whenever they go outside their gravity zone. Aliens that have venomous spikes all over their body and look gnarly as shit but their venom has practically no effect on 99% of discovered intergalactic species. Deathworlders whose planet is the nether from minecraft IRl, but they can't survive in any other temperature for any amount of time because their body just can't handle the cold and regulate their temperate (or, vice versa for tundra species). Aquatic species that are kraken-like nightmares, giant sirens and deadly squid-like beings. But they can't leave their home at all, because theres a very specific chemical makeup of their water that isn't currently found within their life-span distance travel. Deathworlders that genuinely can barely survive off planet and are frail compared to even the most docile prey species whenever they have to travel. Their called deathworlders because going to their planet is certain death, but if they leave they'll be meeting death just as quickly. And then along come humans, and everyones like, oh, another deathworlder, nothing to worry abou- wait. These guys dont seem to loose any of their natural strength off planet... and their fast and strong... and- AND THEY CAN SURVIVE IN PRACTICALLY ANY CLIMATE IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE??? HELLO? Oh and of course their predators. Of course most of their planet is completely uninhabitable for most of us. Mhm, yep. thats fair. Totally Basically, deathworlders are a thing, the more common 'terrifying alien monster' type, but their harmless because they can't survive like everyone else. They can't thrive like humans can. It scares the shit out of everyone for a wholeeeeee while, after all, no one ever expected a deathworlder that doesn't die.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

Is it bad that I want to see more of that Were-Doc Au?

the people love mad scientist turned big wet dog

[fisheito]

TDDDUDE THE CLIFFHANDEGER? THE WHATA???????????????? oh they aint playin silly little games this time tthey're goin with the full SO EVERYONE'S DEAD- ✨:) tune in next time!✨✨ WHAT>>>??????????????????????????

[cecilogical]

My first posted digital sketch for Enter, Pursued by a Buck by @sharkdukes that i've done

[thirteenemeraldcats]

Care to share with us what your no-longer-shortish wip is about???? 👀

FOR YOU? ALWAYS!

So I mentioned in this post that I had a short-ish WIP in my 'active development' pile that's angsty, Jamie-centric, and involves a cat. It's set in the nebulous time between Jamie rejoining the team at the end of 2x02 'Lavender' and the Dubai Air protest in 2x03 'Do the Right-est Thing', so Jamie's very much on the outside looking in.

Originally, it was only focused on Jamie having crushing feelings of social isolation, itchy feelings of touch starvation, and a cat. Now it's merged with another WIP from the 'extended mountainous pile' and given Jamie crushing feelings of social isolation, itchy feelings of touch starvation, a poor sense of self worth, terrible self-preservation instincts. And appendicitis. And a cat. (And Dani!)

(Even more characters just keep showing up too. I didn't invite them. They're just. Here.)

So now I'm smashing two different outlines together with all the single-minded enthusiasm of child convinced they've got the right jigsaw pieces. (They do not.) And while this isn't going to be long, it is no longer the short-ish length that I LITERALLY BEGGED IT TO STAY AT.

I LOVE the angst potential of the early-season-2-time-period and I would be remiss to not shout out our beloved @jamietarttsnorthernattitude who already covered it beautifully in 'i'm lost, but i'm hopeful, baby' and is DOING IT AGAIN RIGHT NOW!! (I'm very very excited 🥳)

[djsangos]

//>close my laptop, about to go to bed

>go to the bathroom, get on my phone

>go to the splatoon tag on tumblr

>first post, FINAL FEST WAS ANNOUNCED??????????????????

[spores-and-petals]

✨WIP Wednesday #7✨

Remember when this used to be a weekly thing? Yeah me neither.

It's more like monthly MAYBE, if we remember.

Good news tho!!! We're making steady progress on part 3, having all the thumbnails done (like forever ago). Part 3 has a total of 10 pages, and I can proudly say that I, despite powering through exam week AND driving lessons, I have 3 and a half pages fully sketched out! Be proud! Say "good job Ari". Say it. WHY ARENT YOU-

So in true WIP Wednesday fashion, here's some of my favorite so far (cleaned up for your viewing pleasure):

Speaking of thumbnails, I really have to add 2 of my favorite shots Rai did for them:

Could not have asked for a better thumbnail artist- ARI STOP BEING SAPPY ON THE COMIC BLOG.

AHEM AHEM besides all that, we made big changes in how we organize stuff after discovering that we can, in fact, share a Notion workspace thingy thing instead of having me bookmark a link to a page I can edit, but only on PC because pocket computer sucks. And-

-wow it's literally the same as before. We basically copy-pasted the format and pages we had from before, it's just less scuffed on my side, I can edit and add things easier AND I can access it on pocket computer if I'm on the go.

When I ultimately take a break from my artistic duties, I dabble in ✨dialogue✨ that's to be used for future parts. I genuinely can't NOT show this one from Part 5 (omg what about part 4? part 4 doesn't need shit. part 4 need ME to actually sit down and DRAW. everything else needed for it is ready to go)

On top of all that, a while ago I remembered that this lil timer app still exists, which I used to use religiously back in my Paint Tool SAI days (I feel old. I ain't even old.). What that means is that I can actually SHARE with YOU ALL how LONG it actually takes ME to FINISH these god forsaken pages /silly

All my slow artists rise up in solidarity please.

Nya.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Psst, don’t forget to check out the masterpost for HCSPAU if u haven’t already 👁️

-🌘✨

[moreaujeans]

it is bad when i am so bored out of my mind at work that i am looking forward to a staff meeting

[wren-kitchens]

how long has it been?

1218 words

despite it all, however, i will not claim that there is anything more akin to a child than the wonder for the world, and the terror for the unknown. gods have little that is unknown to them, undoubtedly due to how easily they may procure information from mortals or prophets or other immortals, and so most of their childish nature tends to stem from awe. but what could be more unknown to an immortal than death?

hi i saw this art by @nikoisme and wrote this in like an hour

cw: discussions of grief and death!

there is nothing childish about the gods—it is almost entirely against their nature, after all. hermes was thieving cattle mere hours after his birth, as artemis made demands of what she wished to rule over in her first years of life. athena never even had a childhood; born fully grown and armoured from zeus' skull, ready to become the goddess of wisdom and war. the first gods, of course, were born and subsequently eaten in very short succession, and so when they once again emerged from kronos' guts, they were adults in all respects. 

and yet, there is something so incredibly childlike about how the immortals traverse through the world—creating mortals for their amusement only to throw tantrums once they are not exactly as they wished them to be; singlemindedly pursuing something one moment, and once they have been satisfied, they forget it the next. the demands of offerings and prayers and respect, lest the unfortunate mortals meet the wrath of whomever they have insulted with their lack of devotion- or sometimes their misguided devotion to a rival god.

despite it all, however, i will not claim that there is anything more akin to a child than the wonder for the world, and the terror for the unknown. gods have little that is unknown to them, undoubtedly due to how easily they may procure information from mortals or prophets or other immortals, and so most of their childish nature tends to stem from awe. 

but what could be more unknown to an immortal than death?

the goddess of war and strategy knows of death. she knows that many soldiers must be lost to win a battle, no matter how one tries to minimise the damage; she knows the carelessness of mortals so often leads to loss where loss did not have to be; she knows that look of blankness that passes over faces when the spear finds its target, or when the healing does not work. athena knows death.

she did not.. know grief. 

she didn’t know how often she would think of something to say to him, only to remember he was long gone; she didn’t know the way it never truly felt like it actually transpired- like she would turn around and see him waking up the hill to greet her; she didn't know how.. lost she would feel. as if someone had hidden a part of her just out of reach, just out of view. 

it had to come, eventually—athena knew this in the rational way everyone knows of death. it never felt as though it would.

the second hermes arrived, she knew. he was solemn in the way he only is when he accompanies souls into the land of the dead, looking at her with that dreadful knowledge in his eyes, and a kind of apprehension that she did not truly understand until long after. he had seen her furious, and joyous, and frustrated, and pleased. he had never seen her in the kind of agony that odysseus' death had brought. 

without so much as a word between them, ares took on some of the most pressing responsibilities of athena's. by then, she hadn't even had time to neglect them before he stepped in. she supposes now that he has been in her position before—whilst she is the goddess of strategy, he takes on the brunt of war. death is not an unusual sight for him, and neither must be grief. 

telemachus had long since sailed to egypt, but began his journey back once hermes visited him with the terrible news. athena could not bring herself to say it aloud, for fear of making it permanent—not that she told hermes this. regardless, she's fairly certain he knew anyway. penelope passed not so long after, and athena has never felt more guilt than how little support she was able to offer telemachus in those first few days in the empty palace.

for reasons she neither knows nor bothers to find out, apollo made a brief visit to telemachus. he told him.. he was living in the world where the best outcomes had come to pass, and that he would find solace in the years he was able to spend with his father and mother, as they truly were—whatever that was supposed to indicate. athena found no hope in those words, but telemachus seemed to at least. perhaps he had seen something athena had not. 

a year passed. and then another. telemachus settled into his new role as king of ithaca, flanked by his husband—they just so happened to meet under an olive tree. athena would like to claim credit, but in truth, she had no sway over the situation. she has since decided it is that foolish thing mortals call 'fate'. they have a child- a young girl with all of odysseus and telemachus' wildness and love of adventure, and penelope's levelheaded stubbornness, and those brains that athena still cannot tell from who they come. she loves archery, and the sea, and she visits the graves of her grandparents almost every day, along with her fathers.

athena continues to sit above them, in the olive tree telemachus planted, as an owl. she wants to pretend that telemachus has no idea it is her, and that her disguise remains infallible, but he talks of when they first met and how, even though they have not spoken for a decade since he set sail for egypt, the wisdom goddess still guides him every day. he gives the owl a smile every time he departs, and athena wishes she had the strength to speak to him. 

"he is not lost." hermes says one day, perching precariously below her on a spindly little branch that, if he were not a god, would undoubtedly snap beneath his weight. 

athena doesn’t speak. she isn't quite sure what she would even say—if he is not lost, she is scylla. 

hermes seems to understand what her silence indicates. "souls never leave, you see. the underworld feels impenetrable for us who will never leave this realm, but.. he is still there."

"i see no point to this visit." athena says shortly, and hermes looks sickeningly sympathetic. "i know this already."

a beat. the leaves rustle softly as a light breeze sweeps across the landscape. 

"i see him sometimes." hermes finally says, a touch of melancholy to his tone. "i am not to visit too often, but. i see him."

it's as if athena's breath is caught in her throat. "and?"

hermes smiles. "he is happy. i have told him of telemachus and his new family, and he is proud." he pauses, as if considering what next to say—which is truly a novel experience for the trickster god. "he says he has one regret."

"i would imagine he has many more." athena says to the gravestone, ever so slightly humorous.

"that is exactly what i told him." hermes grins. "no, he said very specifically. all his men, he has seen once more. his mother, penelope, even telemachus will not be lost to him." hermes looks at athena. "he says he misses you."

for a moment, athena forgets how to breathe. "i miss him too." it's a whisper of a sentence, almost lost entirely to the gentle breeze. but hermes hears. 

"i will let him know."

[elizabethplaid]

morning note - jan 20, 2025

I'm repeating my recent pattern of early-ish to bed, wake in the middle of the night, then sleep the rest of the morning fine, finally waking somewhere between 5 and 9ish. Last night's mid-night wake was near midnight and involved 2 hours of phone play. Had to re-dose my advil, because the pain was so bad.

Sometime around 6am, I was leisurely waking and heard a loud THUMP! at my door. I shrieked! Then I realized it was just Moscow throwing herself against the door, protesting the barrier between us. Meow-ther-fucker.

Another morning of breakfast-meds-compress. Again, the pain is shifting, changing. My eyebrow zits are less swollen but still there; 2 quite solid masses, but it doesn't hurt as much if I brush against them. I def think my current pain is related to sinus pressure, as the hot compress affects my sinuses as much as my eyelid stuff.

I heard a couple really killer lines in the Jacob Geller videos I watched today. One came from the guy who made "my spoon is too big"; the other was a poetic turn of "let me enjoy my thing, even if I'm wrong" in a gaming forum.

It's snowing, supposed to be a number of inches worth bragging on a dating profile (allegedly). It's 15F degrees outside, so my room upstairs is nicely cool. A welcome contrast after the hot compress and Moscow begging for pets while in the bathroom.

We're planning on stew tonight for dinner. I talked to my dad about "Dear Esther" last night, as we made fried rice, but he was weirded out by the details. I'm trying not to think about the game, but I'm also letting it haunt me with open arms. I thought I was onto something last night, but sleep erased what progress I might've had. What if the island is about mourning myself, parts of me in other lifes? It's already a dream-world, a limbo, for the narrator. It wouldn't let me swim. It wouldn't let me escape.

[titsthedamnseason]

i will be somewhat surprised if this book doesn’t end with allomantic powers disappearing / becoming obsolete

[wanderingarcherviola]

In near tears trying to figure out a tech issue with the barcode printer for almost a fucking HOUR and we couldn't continue until it was fixed.

The issue, in question, as to why we couldn't transfer new info from laptop to machine... Boss forgot to click "Allow" when the pc detected a new device in the USB port.. Boss tried to fix it by removing the machine from all permissions and didn't add them back.

Help me...

[strayslost]

YOUR BSD NEW EP SPOILERS WARNING GOES HERE!!

you fools. fyodor couldn't die that easily. he's still fine you just gotta BELIEVE-

[tortadecuchufli]

I'm not sure if this is going to make sense at all. I'm just airing some thoughts as someone with,,,, some visual impairment. I struggle to measure it in terms of impact but it certainly is noticeable among my peers I guess. Nor really the point of the post.

Anyways I remember some months ago I was reading some stats on folks with visual disabilities and I keep going back to the relationship of it and neurodivergence, particularly autism. And that does speak to me at times the more i researched it.

Except like, signs that under normal circumstances would make people consider the diagnosis get then attributed to sight related problems. I rarely do eye contact, so someone asks if I have a problem with my vision and i guess the answer is yes! It IS that... partially. My eyes get kinda shaky when I consciously try to look at you and read your face.

But also I really feel an aversion to do it unless it serves a function (like holding a conversation in sign language). It just feels like extra noise and I need to turn it off. Obviously that causes problems. Significant ones. I know people think I'm not paying them attention and that this preconception frames anything I do as a little hostile to them. I could go off on the ways I tend to misread people based on visual clues, movements or even how they try to transmit the visual representations in their head.

And functionally this and other things probably do make me ND but it is hard to let others see it that way. Because it may just be an eye thing to them, a quirk I can turn off like a faulty machine part.

I've realized it is kind of pointless to focus too much on whatever hypothetical cause it is, because whatever it is, I've grown with it and so my body and brain have co-evolved. That's how I see it. I'm not fixing my eyes, the things I do make me able according to my own standards. And you just can't change brains at their core.

But in terms of accommodations I DO still need... Something, not sure what exactly, to be able to move around the social world.

(reblogs are off but i do appreciate any reply of acknowledgement even if it's to say you don't understand my point of view)

[solarishashernoseinabook]

[Image ID: A one-panel comic with different images on the top and bottom. It features a man in a suit and hat, standing next to an abstract painting with several dark, bold lines.

At the top of the panel, the man is pointing at the painting and grinning. He says, "Ha ha, what does this represent?" At the bottom of the panel, the painting has grown legs and an arm to point back at the man with, and the bold lines have rearranged themselves into an angry face. The painting yells, "What do you represent?" with enough force that the man jumps back, his hat falling off.

The caption below the panel reads, "An abstract painting will react to you if you react to it. You get from it what you bring to it. It will meet you half way but no further. It is alive if you are. It represents something and so do you. YOU, SIR, ARE A SPACE, TOO." The final line is all in caps. Below the caption, the man is lying on his back, his eyes replaced with X's as though he's unconscious. /end]

that article about interpretation / description has gotten this piece stuck in my head. YOU SIR ARE A SPACE TOO