#do a wide variety of things and all that

[bas-taard]

doomscrolled video game job listings and man. you have to either sell your soul working on some god awful mobile game with terrible art direction or be born with 3+ years of experience, and the in-between is working as a freelancer and picking between worse and worst clients

[giantkillerjack]

There is a horror in that moment

The kind that makes most folks look away

That moment

When you realize

The Pain

Will not be stopping.

I'm writing a book in which

The main character goes through the same thing

And I'm stuck because

How do you write a scene like that?

Where do you put it in the story?

When does it finally dawn on him?

Not only the knowledge that

dancing

running

skipping

jumping

walking

fucking

working

adventuring

Living

will never be the same.

But when will it dawn on him that his last day of painlessness was months ago, and he didn't even know it at the time? (didn't even get to say goodbye)

Maybe that's why they say dawn breaks.

Maybe I'm stuck because I've never seen it anywhere else.

(maybe that's why I felt all alone in my mourning)

(maybe that's why I'm writing a book)

I've never seen a story where there were days of pain and days of ease, and then the days without pain got fewer and fewer until one day, it was just

Pain.

And of course my character, he waits

And waits

And waits

And works

And searches

And pleads

And yet the rest of his life

Suddenly stretches before him

Horrifically long, unthinkably long, with the knowledge that, from now on,

Every Day Will Be A Pain Day.

Every second

Of every minute

Of every hour day week month year

For forever

For forever

For forever

For forever

For forever

For forever

For forever

How many scenes do I write

of him mourning?

And - before he finds the acceptance that even allows for mourning -

How many scenes of that horrific slow-sudden frantic-panicked suspicion of the truth?

How does one draw (it's a graphic novel) the face of a man (his name is David)

struck with that kind of strangling grief?that choking half-denial?

That silent scream of horror given sound?

How many people tell him they are sure it will be fine even as he feels himself falling further?

How many of them fail to understand until they are gone from his life?

How many times does he blame himself?

How many times is he right?

Don't get me wrong

It's a hopeful story

Really.

It has a happy ending

And that happy ending happens

On a pain day.

I just hope I can tell my story good enough to show

What that means and

Why it matters.

I just hope we can be seen.

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[secretscones]

Ask Game: List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers :)

Hm, there are a few things here and there i really enjoy indeed i think, so here we go.

🎶Music

🎮Gaming

🌧Rain

🍂Fall/Winter

🧁Cooking/Baking

[wherela]

This may sound like such a stupid thing to worry about, but I have no idea what kind of wedding dress I want. I plan on sewing my own, but every single dress on my pinterest board is completely different, and I have no idea what kind of style I want.

I just want a nice dress that makes me feel happy :(

[itsalwaysdark]

i was gonna make a post abt how i dont rly like like. Genre changing covers of songs and then realized upon introspection is that i sort of just dont like rock covers of songs generally

[ruvviks]

made the realization my vampire story would work best as a video game and now i can't stop thinking about it

[chesacakeripper]

Still thinking about the interaction I had over the weekend (where there was genuine right wing unrest in my city waheyy) where I popped a message onto my colleagues-but-we're-friends-we-go-for-drinks-and-dinner-sonetimes chat to make sure ppl were staying safe (many of us are of various minority groups) and I get a bit salty about how the police were mostly being shit and harassing the counter-protestors and one person pipes up with 'I don't subscribe to the acab thing sorry 😂' after talking about how many police were injured in other unrest and like.

I had to fully disengage myself because I work with and am friendly with these folks but sometimes you get smacked in the head with an opinion and suddenly lose the trust and respect you'd been building for someone over the last year huh

[reno2005]

So while looking into the 90’s/early 00’s RE comics some more I noticed this interesting detail of Leon going with Claire to Europe to find Chris after the Raccoon City incident.

While most of these comic stories are not considered canon and more so "what if" or "inspired" stories instead of retellings, it's interesting to see how the comic writers for this comic magazine imagined the lore for the series would happen considering how little they were given to work with.

[pointy-kitty]

I just want to give a heads up - I went Thru A Thing yesterday and I'm going to be drawing a vent image containing gore, specifically decapitation and eye trauma. So if that's going to be upsetting for you please make sure you have gore/decapitation/eye trauma blacklisted.

Please don't come at me for posting such things on what is my main (only) art blog. This is my art blog and I'll post my art on it. But I don't want to jumpscare anyone, so on the rare occasions that I draw graphic content I'll give warnings and tag it well.

I'm also not going to be using cw: or // in any of the tags because. Why do people do that.

[rotisseries]

I do think it's slightly funny that some of you will (rightfully) complain about how byler tumblr only reads and recommends fics from the same 5 authors, and yet @byierficrecs, who has the highest author variation I've seen for this fandom's fic recs, and has amazing graphics to go with it, never seems to crack 20 notes on their posts🤨

[k66-official]

Oh? Dororo, you have a phone?

I think our phones are connected to the Kero Ball, or something like that? I've not looked into it much, to be honest.

[margridarnauds]

The answer to the question of whether I love BG3 or hate BG3 is "yes"

[7-oh-ta1]

I'm tired of living in the boonies bec why am I qualified to be a preschool teaching assistant in virginia but here there's nothing but fast food and dollar stores

[arolesbianism]

Grrr

[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

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