#marble disk

[blueiscoool]

Diver Finds 2,500-Year-Old Disc Used by Ancient Mariners to Ward Off ‘The Evil Eye’

Artifact discovered at Palmachim Beach is a type of talisman sailors affixed to ships for good fortune, Israel Antiquities Authority says.

A rare, 2,500-year-old marble disc used by ancient mariners as a talisman has been discovered off Israel’s coast.

A lifeguard diving off Palmachim Beach discovered the artifact at the Yavne-Yam archaeological site and turned it over to researchers, the Israel Antiquities Authority said last month.

Researchers identified the object as an ancient “eye motif,” known in Greek as “ophtalmoi,” that ancient sailors affixed to their vessels in the belief it would ward off evil, the authority said in a statement.

Archaeologists are familiar with the objects from drawings on pottery, mosaics and ancient coins, and from other historical sources, said Yaakov Shitrit, the director of the authority’s Marine Archaeology Unit.

“This design was common on ships’ bows and served to protect against the evil eye and envy, aided navigation, and acted as a pair of eyes looking ahead and warning of danger,” Shitrit said in a statement. “This decoration is still common today on modern ships in Portugal, Malta, Greece, and the far east.”

The disc is flat on one side and curved on the other, has a diameter of 20 centimeters (7.8 inches), and bears traces of paint forming two circles around its center.

Sailors used lead or bronze nails to attach the discs to warships or merchant vessels, researchers said.

Only three other similar artifacts have been found in the Mediterranean Sea, even though the objects were once common. One was found off Israel’s Carmel Beach, and two were found in the wreck of an ancient merchant ship at the Tektaş Burnu archaeological site on Turkey’s coast.

The Yavne-Yam site, where the disc was found last month, was first settled during the Middle Bronze Age. Marine surveys have found shipwrecks that indicate there was intensive commercial activity in the area in ancient times, with archaeologists uncovering maritime artifacts such as anchors, weights and fishing gear.

Researchers have also found items that were used on ships including a lead cooking oven, grinding stones, stone bowls, storage jars and cooking pots.

The artifacts date a stretch of history covering the Late Bronze Age, and the Persian, Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine periods, the Israel Antiquities Authority said.

[nyaa]

[blackpointgame]

aabon35

[self-made-cages]

I preordered my vinyl 🤓🤓

[sonic-adventure-3]

msrble blast

[rogerlilyrp]

Atlanta Open Living Room

Large modern open concept living room idea with porcelain tile, gray walls, no fireplace, and a television stand.

[misanthropiczombie]

People do in fact save, retain, and archive other forms of media and online content creation. Vines, tiktoks, twitter threads, can all be found in "my favorites" compilations and shared elsewhere. People save fanart they like to their phones (many of which are probably backed up via dropbox or icloud or whatever and so archived there, too) to use as backgrounds or contact photos or emotional pick me ups. You keep stating that you specifically post fanfic thats "incoherent trash" that you then say is weird for people to want to keep a personal copy of, and I'll be honest. I've never read "incomprehensible trash" I've thought "Gosh, I'd love to put multiple weeks into putting this on my bookshelf" Most fanbinders are not just "pressing print" as you stated in a tag (exceptionally dismissively). I spend a good week in the typesetting process alone. Finding and making art assets (and by finding I mean utilizing sites that I pay for who's point is free-to-use lineart and photography) spending the time to select the right fonts, design the right title page, ect. And then I print it and sew it and decide on the best book cloth and end papers and title format to encapsulate what the story is and means. It is very much a labor of love. Maybe all you do is press print, but framing your personal experiences with binding and the type of fic you produce as universal is... strange at best. You also complain a lot about the kind of control you have over your work vs professional authors and... the cognitive dissonance is astounding. Fanfic is, definitionally, taking another creators work and transforming it through your efforts into something else. You are participating in exactly the same thing you are railing against. Did you ask the authors, creators, actors of the shows/books/games/ect you write for? Unless it's Neil Gaiman or Diane Duane or Anne Rice you probably don't inherently know where the author stands on transformative works. Expressing discomfort is not what's caused the backlash. Being dismissive and rude and aggressive is. And, truly if you're that uncomfortable with transformative works, why in the world are you writing them? Why do you seemingly deride the people who like your fics specifically? It's okay to be uncomfortable with something, but it's less okay to take your discomfort and make it a moral failing on everyone else's part.

You're welcome to find people creating their own transformative works of your fics weird or uncomfortable and to tell people 'no thanks' if they ask, but the high horse you rode in on is naught but a rocking horse.

an artist i follow got an ask about whether it was alright to use their art as covers for fanfic bookbinding and i'm. sorry i must have missed this discourse but since when are people outright printing out other people's work and binding them into books? do you contact and get author's permission (sure as fuck hope so)? and how do we writers feel about that, because i certainly feel very uncomfortable with that idea. i mean not to spoil the artistic expression of bookbinding because it's beautiful work that i most certainly could not do, but. you can access them stories any time you want on the websites where they were originally posted. why print them? again i mean i get the pleasure of holding & reading physical books, i much prefer that too, but like. get some books i guess? sorry i come from a place of honesty and tbh surprise and confusion about this whole thing. someone tell me how we're feeling about this. someone explain to me why it's being done. i just wanna understand

[goatskickin]

On the second day of GOATmas, my true love sent to me...

...end tables! Wood recolors of end tables!

I've recolored every end table that EA has created in a pack or expansion that:

1) already had wood recolors

2) didn't have wood recolors, but I felt that wood recolors suited them

For the colors: I am using Dynamite, Depth Charge, Shrapnel, Safety Fuse and Time Bomb by @pooklet, and Nesert and Honey by Io aka @serabiet.

Please check out the Add-On's I've recommended! They are meshes made by community members that will use these textures too. Or, they are bits of CC that go along with these nicely!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contempo Adirondack End Table - tableenddeckadirondack

notes: base texture. using @hugelunatic's fix, this end table and the adirondack chair will share textures.

Recommended add-on: #1

Country Comfort End Table - tableendquaint

notes: original texture! Not much to say about this one.

Crazy 8 Table - endtablevalue

Notes: same ol texture. no longer shiny

Recommended Add-On: #1

Curvaceous Colonial End Table - tableendcolonial2

notes: this texture was awful! the mesh is bad too. but I triumphed, mostly because I gave it a new texture.

Curves And Swerves - tableendsurfer

notes: brand new wood texture! Love the sleek look of this mesh.

Recommended Add-On: #1

End Table By Splendid Scenes - tableEndHotel

notes: this is one of my favorite end tables! I really liked the two-toned thing that the original texture had, so I kept that.

Recommended Add-ons: #1 #2 Alt Link #2

Four Feet and A Disk - tableendsocialite

notes: uses the original texture for the wood. For the 'metal' I changed that to be in wood shades and have a lil wood grain, as I'd find that a lot more useful. At least for me!

Home Style End Table -tableendcomfy

notes: same texture! I really like this texture, so I felt that I didn't need to change it.

Inner Atoms End Table - tableendatomicage

notes: same base texture. If someone can make those legs a recolorable subset, I'd love it,

Recommended add-ons: #1 #2 #3

Junior Cosmonauts Bedside Table - tableendatomic

notes: did not come in wood recolors originally, so I made some! I thought that the lines of this end table would lend themselves well to wood, and give the end table midcentury modern vibe. 💫

Modest Medieval End Table - tableendmedival

notes: uses the original texture, but it's been edited. This does not have a white recolor - I made one, but it ended up looking stupid, and this mesh does not need one anyway. 🤷

Recommended add-ons: #1

Patchwork End Table - tableendgoth

notes: the mesh is quite nice, so this one has a brand new texture! Sourced from the expensive AL end table.

Recommended add-on: #1

Subtle Touch End Table - tableendelite

notes: uses mostly the same texture, but I removed the curlicues!

The Gold End Ratio Table -tableendcentralasian

notes: mostly uses the original texture which is surprisingly good! I for sure removed the shine on this one.

The Good Butler End Table - tableendluxury

notes: same texture because I liked it

The Mighty Mighty End Table - tableendmission

notes: most every recolor of this end table that I have seen does not use the original texture, and I think that's a shame! I really like the original texture, which I have utilized here.

Recommended add-on: #1, #2, #3 (it's the one called Mission Style Dresser)

Tri Tip End Table - tableendtriangulartile

notes: no need to use new textures; the wood part is so small, it's hardly worth the effort. This does NOT include any RC's for the marble top (not made of wood, so no wood RC's).

Vintage End Table - tableendbohemian

notes: I like this one so much that you get it in TWO flavors! First uses the original texture, with the decorative top and sides and bits at the ends.

And the second one is 'unyassified' (lol) if you have a need for a plainer table.

Download - Sims 2 End Tables - Wood Recolors

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Recommended downloads: ariffrazalin's "One More" Slot Package For end tables:

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (part 4/?)

(Part one, part two, part three, part five, part six, part seven. Also on AO3)

Dick paused, tilting his head.

He was on a spacecraft near Tamaran, watching his star through a live feed on his tablet. His friends sat around him, some watching the cluster alongside him over his shoulder. Kory was behind him, encasing him in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

Dick frowned. “I don’t know. Something is really, really wrong.”

Kory grew quiet again, listening to the song of the stars. It was loud and fast paced, almost frantic. Behind the song, if Dick concentrated enough, he could also hear… screaming.

He almost didn’t know if it was real or not, but it had gone on for a few hours, so he wasn’t sure.

The song covering it was almost like that of a mother singing a lullaby to quickly comfort their child. The stars seemed frantic as they sang, but visually, they didn’t look any different from usual.

His star and all of the others were slow today. They seemed to be circling their sister, the quasar, who looked smaller than usual as well.

Most of the time, her enormous size almost dwarfed her siblings. Her rings of light were so wide that she made her baby siblings look like marbles and even his own star occasionally struggled to be noticed within her glow.

But now, she was still and her size seemed small, even small compared to the protostar. Her accretion disks were pale and her jet was thin and weak.

Was she the one screaming?

But why?

Dick mumbled to himself in confusion, "What's going on—?"

Light flashed across the screen and then she went supernova.

The shockwaves impacted the spacecraft hard, hard enough that the camera shook and blurred the view. The ship rocked and creaked with a screeching noise so loudly that it could be heard through the screen.

For a moment, Dick was excited as he perked up and waited for the dust to settle so he could see into the cluster.

But his stomach dropped when he looked out the camera again and saw nothing but only three stars in various forms of their lives.

No, surely, his eyes were wrong.

One, two, three.

Where was the quasar?

He futilely tilted the screen, as if it would somehow change the perspective of the camera and reveal the quasar hiding behind her siblings.

"No... no! No, no, no! Why is there only three?! Where did she go?!"

"Dick! What has happened? What does that mean?" Kory asked as the Teen Titans crowded around him. Even the others who had been distracted doing something else turned to look at him. The ones close to him all surrounded him with reassuring and comforting presences, trying to calm him down as Dick descended into hysterics.

Dick hurriedly pressed on the buttons, trying to change the camera, get different perspectives, hopefully see something new and not what he was beginning to realize was true. He hoped and prayed that maybe the quasar had turned into something else. A small star, maybe a dwarf.

Anything.

Anything but gone.

“No, no, no! Did any of you see anything?!” He turned to his teammates, who stared at him with horror and worry.

Raven said slowly, “No. We didn’t see anything except for the quasar going supernova.”

“That quasar was Jason’s! And both of our stars are linked to us— when I became Nightwing, my star also went supernova when I grew up. But Jason’s star is gone!” When he saw that his teammates didn’t seem to comprehend what he was saying, he said, “Our stars are connected to us. If the quasar is gone, then that means that…!”

He didn’t want to say it.

His teammates’ eyes widened. They were slowly beginning to understand.

Kory covered her mouth. “Dick…! What does this mean? Are you suggesting that—?”

Vic stood up hurriedly. “I’ll go to the computer, and look into it right now.”

Gar quickly hurried to follow Vic to the main computer while Dick crumpled to his knees with a sob. Kory caught him and the two of them fell onto the floor as she hugged him securely. He clutched back at her just as desperately, but his eyes could not help but look at the camera feed again, where the galaxy had frozen in place.

He didn’t know why they weren’t moving, perhaps a mixture of shock and grief? Maybe some sort of astrophysics reason, since the quasar’s gravitational pull was the one who was mainly holding the little galaxy together when Dick’s star changed. Maybe some weird way of star mourning. Maybe it was nothing, and Dick was going crazy because surely, surely, his little brother was not dead.

His little brother who he had not appreciated enough.

He clutched his eyes shut and forcefully turned away from the Phantom Cluster to bury his face into Kory’s neck. He felt other hands on his shoulders and arms and back, just comforting presences and sources of warmth.

He barely held back from tearing up, praying that Vic would come back with better news. That maybe there was a misunderstanding.

Anything.

Footsteps skittered into the room and everyone looked up.

Gar stared at them with wide eyes. He visibly gulped and then looked at Dick as his blood ran cold.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason Todd, the second Robin, was dead.

————

It took Dick a week before he could go back home. Every day, he just stared at the stars, at the little galaxy where his star sat in silence. There was no more singing, no more chatter, nothing that showed that the stars and planets that inhabited that strange galaxy were sentient besides their still positions in space.

Kory held him every night as Dick mourned for a little brother he did not really know.

And every day, he waited for a call from Batman. A notification, a message, a fucking telepathic signal, anything.

Nothing came.

Dick’s panicking and crying faded by the fourth day and he grew wane from the lack of communication between him and Bruce. For a moment, he almost wanted to go back to Earth straight away just to tear Bruce a new one, but his duties kept him away.

He checked on the camera feed of his star, but it showed nothing. Like him, the stars seemed to also cry for their lost sibling.

Inwardly, Dick was immensely guilty for how grateful he felt for the fact that the quasar also died, uniting him and his star in grief. He wished that the emotions inside of him couldn’t be known by his star, but he had seen what had happened when bad people had met the cluster, and he knew that they were probably aware of his feelings.

He was also grateful that his star did not abandon him despite his inner ugliness.

When he got back, he was met with Danny’s callous and cold remarks about Jason’s death. He had promptly thrown him out and then visited Jason’s grave.

Jason Todd

Rest In Peace.

A cold, emotionless, apathetic tombstone. There was nothing else, no anecdote, no notes, nothing. Dick drew comfort from Kory again and then he went to hunt down Bruce.

That didn’t go well either.

Months passed.

The hurt did not ease and every waking moment when he could, Dick spent at least a few minutes with his star. They were still silent, but as time passed, the cluster began to move again, around and around an empty space that was clearly meant for their sister.

Oh, how strange it was to see stars mourn and grieve just like how humans did.

(Sometimes, they were still so human-like that it was terrifying.)

Dick sat with his star in the control room, watching the celestial bodies whirl around in space in subdued, quiet circles. The singing did not start again, but it was okay. Sometimes, his star spoke to him when he got too worried.

At other times, the one who spoke to him was the King of the cluster, the neutron star who protected his cluster with his remaining light even while he was only a star corpse, that fed his siblings with his supernova remnants, the one who was a hero, just like Robin, when he was still alive and human.

The interstellar medium left behind by their quasar sister was ignored, floating in space in purple, pink, red, and blue hues.

Dick wondered if Robin was reborn as a star somewhere out there.

But then thinking of his star and this cluster, it probably wasn't likely.

They were extremely possessive. If Jason was reborn as a star, he would've been collected and brought here.

(But that meant he was truly gone forever.)

Dick felt like the grief would never disappear.

But just like these stars, the world kept moving.

A boy forced Bruce to take him on as Robin. To help him with his grief. To help him save Gotham. To help him become his best and truest version of Batman again.

Dick disagreed but he knew that the kid wouldn't be obedient. He stepped in to help Bruce train him, so another child wouldn't be sacrificed to Batman's cause.

Dick couldn't have another death on his hands. In order to make things right, he had to train him.

How many more children would be picked up and trained and discarded like him?

(Like Jason?)

How many until Bruce had enough?

Dick was back in the space station again. The cluster was a little more energetic today. His star was spinning around the empty spot again, with his brother and sister following them. The two larger planets, the ones that were considered part of the family of stars, were also excitedly spinning around the stars.

Dick tapped the glass. "My star? What's going on today?"

There was only a crackling silence. It was almost eerie without the singing, but Dick had gotten used to it.

Suddenly, the nebula that had been left behind began to converge.

Dick froze as he watched the glittering star material contort and bend into one spot. There was a small flash of light, then several, and then a burst of sparks appeared before a black mass was formed in the middle of the empty space. It was relatively small at first, but then it grew until it was bigger than the neutron star and protostar, only dwarfed by Dick’s own star.

All of the astronomical objects then began to spin with wild energy. The neutron star himself spun into a pulsar, casting rays of cold electromagnetic energy every time the light passed through the windows.

Dick's jaw dropped as he stared out the window in slow-growing recognition as the black mass stayed still and quiet, as if asleep.

Both Dick and his star spoke up at the same time then, one with relieved happiness and the other with shocked disbelief.

"She's back."

"He's alive!"

|||||||||||||||||||||||

Me: Ah yes my wholesome space themed series

Also me: *kills Jason and Jazz*

Was looking up what Dick’s reaction was to Jason’s death and why did I discover a character named Danny Chase who becomes someone named Phantasm… 🤨 he was such a little asshole too jfc. Also! Please suspend your disbelief on how Dick finds out so fast (since Batman wouldn’t have been able to put it in the computer that fast). Time and computer works differently in space… or something

I almost left this as a fic with Dick mourning for Jason, but I decided to make it a somewhat happy ending with Jazz coming back as well.

You also might have noticed that I use the word “cluster” now instead of “galaxy” and that’s bc I always refer to Danny’s star cluster as “little” and clusters are smaller versions of galaxies.

I’m learning as I go 😭

The Robins and Phantoms are in a codependent and mutualistic relationship. Usually, whatever happens to the Robins will also affect the stars they bonded with, but the reverse won’t happen bc the Phantoms are extremely protective of them and (also extremely protected by Clockwork). I’m doing as much research as I can in order to make the DCU characters’ lives accurate.

I can't wait for Damian to arrive, I want to get into Sam and her planet already

Edit: omg I think I switched Garth (Aqualad) and Gar (Beast Boy)

[cyclesprefectpress]

[image description: photos of The Disco Elysium Tarot, printed letterpress in an edition of one from handset lead type and linoleum blocks. It is a complete 78-card tarot deck printed primarily with white text and illustrations on medium grey cardstock, in a custom dark grey hardcase box with a hand-marbled orange and yellow endsheet. The backs of the deck are decorated with an illustration of a sprig of may bells, and a quote from Smallest Church in Saint-Saëns: "None of this matters at all." The interpretive meaning of each card is expressed on its face with a small excerpt of the game's text. The Minor Arcana are divided into four suits of Harry's Attributes—Motorics, Psyche, Physique, Intellect—and each card in that suit is a quote from a skill under that Attribute. The Major Arcana are assigned quotes from other sources like NPC dialogue or Thought Cabinet problems & solutions. Pips for the Minors are counted with diamonds like the game's skill points; each actor or title is printed with their in-game color, but made shiny & metallic with bronzing powder.

each piece of text was set in handset lead type, assembled from individual pieces for each letter and space, and printed relief on a chandler & price clamshell press. end description.]

🎊🎊 Desert Bus for Hope starts for 2023 on nov. 11th and i have made an item this year for the craftalong that will be up for giveaway between 6am-12pm on Monday the 13th! 🎊🎊 It is a full tarot deck based on Disco Elysium and it has several pieces of my heart & soul in it but NOT my blood because i put a bandaid right on that :) donations for this and any other auctions & giveaways for Desert Bus go to Child's Play Charity.

notes: i did not make a whole new interpretive model for this deck, apologies, that was outside of my scope. it's generally compatible with a Rider-Waite model, with Motorics for Wands, Psyche for Cups, Physique for Swords, and Intellect for Disks. (full distribution of text listed by card, linked below. any spelling or transcription errors you find there, i promise i fixed them in print—that's copied from my digital mockup which was copied hastily from screenshots.)

i also do not track hours on these kinds of projects because that way lies madness, but i will say: i knew how much time it would take to print it. it was a lot but i was not worried about it, i know how to print. i was very worried about how much time it would take to absorb the sheer amount of text, and distribute it across the cards, and really get an array i believe in. i was right to worry, and i have absolutely had a few anxious nightmares about discovering the Perfect excerpt that should've gone in and i missed it, and the suit of Intellect made me want to lay on the floor a few times, but still! i believe there's many versions of a deck you could make from this game and this one is a good one.

i think the Minors fit really well with the double-edged sword of Harry's skills, their advice, their priorities. the circular way the Fool-World assignment works out makes me smile every time. The colors on The Star came out so nice. i think Justice fulfills some of my favorite things about Kim's character & purpose in the story. i worried sometimes that editing to such short clips would lose too much of the politics of the game, but of course you can't really take them out and they're especially present in the Majors—the Devil and the Hierophant, The Star and The Sun. i've wanted to design a tarot deck for years and i love this game deeply and i let this idea percolate for a few months and it never stopped making me laugh so here it is, & given a beautiful purpose :)

i also literally could not have done this without xyrilin's Disco Reader and the FAYDE On-Air Playback Experiment to navigate the dialogue and skill checks. Really couldn’t have tied the whole concept & colophon in its final bow without the Disco Reader :)) thank thank thank, they're so fun to investigate that it was honestly very difficult to focus on my task instead of veering off and exploring every branch in an extremely disorganized way.

actual printing went well honestly, very few problems! i think that means i'm getting pretty good at planning one of these monstrosities, although perhaps it also means i'm not challenging myself enough. hmm. no that's silly there's 78 ding dang cards in this thing. anyway the drop & replace formes worked well, no registration issues. mum convinced me to overprint another half a deck's worth of cards when I was printing backs & borders and of course she was right :/ there were a handful of cards that actually had better line breaks and fewer lines total in true type than in the digital mockup, so i needed all the spares I had to put those new short quotes into the appropriate border breakage. next time i will not question her.

handset in Garamond, Eden Bold, and secret Neuland.

WIP : full text card assignments

bonus photo of the kind of trash notes i always take to plan things like how many borders were printed with space for short excerpts vs long excerpts, and how many of those are majors vs. minors, because they have a slightly different frame at the bottom edge, etc.

[image description: they are truly garbage notes, i tell you. half of it is written at angles to the other half, many numbers in the math problems are not labeled, mistakes are scribbled over. it gets me there but it doesn't look pretty. end description.]

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Welcome to what the ornate decor of wealth looks like when it gets dated. It's unchanged since 1986 when the mansion in Palos Verdes Estates, CA was built. It has 9bds, 18ba, $8.9M. And, it's under contract. The exterior is so beautiful, but it needs a little oomph inside.

Very elaborate entrance hall with teal Greek columns.

On the other side of the stairs there's what looks like a hotel reception desk.

The sitting room needs a refresh. This home has huge fireplaces, but the decor and carpeting look tired and dusty. They'll be taking their furniture and I would freshen this room with new paint.

In the lounge there's a very large fireplace and the largest beams on an octagon coffered ceiling I've ever seen. There's also a bar. I think that those round disks in the floor are plugs, so I would place my furniture accordingly.

I wonder if the new owners plan to spend some more millions on updating the place.

The kitchen is gigantic and has carved cabinet fronts plus brown Victorian tin between the coffered beams.

There are 2 very large islands and built-in glass china cabinets. The countertops are tile.

The breakfast room has a fireplace, built-in cabinet and a painted sky ceiling.

I don't care for the pool room's decor. I would make it more man cave and ditch the pink.

Ballroom?

Powder room is interesting.

The primary bedroom is very large and so is the fireplace.

Look at how high that ceiling goes in this room.

Check out this en-suite. A maroon tub and sink.

I think that this bedroom has an outdoor theme. The wallpaper is like simulated lattice and the fireplace looks moldy, even though it's just a paint effect.

In the en-suite the sink vanity has a faux marble finish.

We're back downstairs in Cafe Montmer (or is it Mont Mer?).

This must be a game room or rec room.

The Cafe Mont Mer guest bath and sauna.

Handball court?

The pool and patio.

The grounds are beautiful.

Also a tennis court.

The gated 1.24 acre lot has a view of the Bluff Cove which is practically across the street.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1804-Via-Visalia-Palos-Verdes-Estates-CA-90274/21342903_zpid/?

[bouncinghedgehog]

"Many have passed away, and those who are still here are called

"the elderly.""

We were born in the 40s-50s-60s.

We grew up in the 50's-60's-70's

We studied in the 60s-70s-80s.

We were together in the 70s-80s-90s.

We got married or not and discovered the world in the 70s-80s-90s.

Adventuring into the 80s - 90s

We're settling in to the 2000s.

We became wiser in 2010s.

And we’re going strong into 2020 and beyond.

Turns out we went through EIGHT different decades...

TWO different centuries...

TWO different millennials...

We've gone from phone with operator for long distance calls, pay booths, video calls worldwide.

We’ve gone from slides to YouTube, vinyls to online music, handwritten letters to emails and Whats App.

Live games on the radio, black and white TV, color TV, then HD 3D TV.

We went to the video store and now watching Netflix.

We've known the first computers, punch cards, disks and now we have gigabytes and megabytes on our smartphones.

We wore shorts all through our childhood, then trousers, ep pants or mini-skirts, Oxfords, Clarks, Palestinian scarves, jumpsuits, and blue jeans.

We avoided childhood paralysis, meningitis, poliomyelitis, tuberculosis, swine flu and now COVID-19.

We've done roller skating, roller skating, tricycle, bicycle, moped, gasoline or diesel and now we drive hybrids or electric.

We played with the little ones

horses and checkers, ostrich and marbles, 1000 threshold and monopoly, now there's candy crush on our smartphones

And we read... much

And our schoolmates religion was not a subject...

We used to drink tap water and lemonade in glass bottles, and the vegetables on our plate were always fresh, today we get meals delivered

Yes, we have been through a lot but what a beautiful life we have had!

They might describe us as “ex-annuals”; people who were born in this 50s world, who had an analog childhood and digital adulthood.

We should add the Biological Revolution that we have witnessed. In 1960, biology was very descriptve. We have witnessed the event of Molecular Biology: the molecules of Life have been discovered: DNA, RNA etc. When you see everything that has come from it: gene therapy, gene fingerprints, and others the progress is considerable.

We kind of have "seen it all"!

Our generation has literally lived and witnessed more than any other in every dimension of life.

This is our generation that has literally adapted to "CHANGE".

A big congratulations to all the members of a very special generation, which will be UNIQUE.. "

[feebisart]

The Door You Don't Knock On (3/4)

(( Trigger Warning: Unreality, Transformation, Body Horror, Derealization, Dissociation, Hints of Past Abuse, Drowning, Death, Existential Horror, Emotional Manipulation, Mental Health Struggles, Surreal/Disturbing Imagery, References to Violence, Grief/Loss. ))

A/N: Please keep in mind the trigger warnings. Thank you.

Billy opened his blue eyes, reflecting the stars and galaxies squished into streams of Saturn's spinning disk. He blinked a couple of times, rubbing at the sleep with the back of his hand.

"Oh." He uttered as he gazed into the surreal sky.

Gingerly, he pushed himself up, feeling the pleasant heat of the couch beneath him. He gave the sofa a soft pat—a habit of thanking inanimate objects. Around him, a haze of heat gently rested over a fiery sea, furniture bobbing leisurely throughout the molten tide as tubes drifted down a waterpark's lazy river.

Peering over the side of the comfortable couch, Billy hesitated before dropping onto a stone slab atop the vibrant sand. Multicolored grains shifted beneath the piece as the foot met pavement. It was, of course, a migraine to look at. However, it wasn't lava. He won't look a gift horse in the mouth, after all.

A giggle bubbled out of his mouth, surprising the young boy. The silliness of it all—the marshmallow-soft cushions and the flaming ocean provided the backdrop to his amusement. Billy had slept on dozens of surfaces before—hardwood floors, tile, rock, and even the branches of trees. Now, he could add roasted marshmallow cushions to that list.

In the distance, the molten rock hissed as if affronted by his laughter. The gurgling mass of creeping lava spewed spectral radiant mist that drizzled glitter over the coast around him. The grains collided with a soft yet strangely metallic sound as the mist met the sand. Curious, Billy crouched closer and spotted a glint amid the chromatic, iridescent particles. The sand wasn't just sand—it morphed between tiny sand crystals and larger metallic jacks.

"That's so weird." He muttered as he brushed some ashes off his sweater. Stretching his back, he surveyed the area. Marble slabs scattered across the sand like lily pads floating across a pond.

Did anyone say Leapfrog?

Billy grinned from ear to ear, leaping from slab to slab like a child playing hopscotch, waving his arms to balance himself with each jump. Nearing the end of the path, he teetered on one foot, almost stepping into the sand before catching himself on the rock's edge.

A large gap loomed before him, filled with kaleidoscopic minerals torn between quartz crystals and knucklebones. A faint cling reverberated as a breeze brushed past. Wind chimes as it weaves through colliding metal scraps or, perhaps, mocking laughter.

Beyond him unfurled a black-and-white checkered pattern floor. The boy drew in a deep breath before launching himself across. He landed and slid onto the sleek, slippery floor, emitting a harsh squeal—grating rubber squeaking onto a slick glass surface.

Flapping his arms with a hint of desperation, he glided to a halt in the middle of an elegant hallway, gasping for breath. Doors were lined in uniform repeating patterns along the hallways, and their handles were in particularly unique places—some were far too high, some were two inches from the floor, and some were just floating in the air—just out of reach. Billy blinked, wondering where he should go next.

The tingling crept around Billy's shoulders, wrapped around the boy's shoulders like a white cloak. A faint, high-pitched ringing stalked him—a persistent mosquito honing into the sting. He had thought the further he walked from the sand, the fainter the sound would get. But apparently not. The hallways seemed to turn and twist sideways, looping into themselves in a never-ending Moebius strip. Every turn he'd been there before, every step left a resounding echo.

The ringing amplified, adding the soprano of screeching feedback, the base of discordant laughter, and rhythmic faint taunts using distorted versions of Billy's voice. It wasn't just his ears but also his taste. Every time his voice screamed into his ear, he tasted the stinging, metallic flavor, tasting the noise itself. An earworm that wouldn't leave gnawed at his thoughts, a continuous spiraling loop. Billy knew plenty of earworms—songs that wormed their way into your brain, settling comfortably to never leave, much like Mister-

No, Billy shook his head quickly, cutting off the thought. He needed to find what It Is Not. The boy could not afford to Spiral. He pinched the bridges of his nose as it howled into his ear, dropping all pretense of subtlety. There was no doubt in his mind—It was getting impatient.

Perhaps in annoyance or wanting it all to stop, he grabbed the nearest door handle and pulled it without thinking. His pale fingers curled tightly around the handle, and with a swift, violent force, he yanked the door open. The panel slammed against the wall, and chips of wood fell onto the ground from the pure force. Static surged into a deafening disharmonious crescendo, an ice pick to the head regarding ear-splitting notes.

All of a sudden, nothing.

The door sealed shut behind him, hissing shut with finality in the form of air decompressing from a pressurized chamber. A faint rush of air brushed against his back before all was still. He concentrated on hearing the ringing, which was still there—faint, in the background, waiting.

The room was quite ordinary, if a bit cluttered. Art Deco flair seeped into the gold and black orchid wallpaper, sleek and aerodynamic furniture, and black and white tiles with gold accents. There was a hint of paint and wood shavings in the air. Open and empty cans of paint scattered across the floor. Baskets and containers of pencils, pens, markers, and chalk were piled on each other. Blank Canvases were scattered around the room with palettes of every imaginable color. Brushes were placed at each art stand, overflowing the holder.

It was overwhelming—every medium of art stacked on each other in a gaudy display of choices. He could see perhaps a faded yellow couch propped up by a couple of sketchbooks, but it was dwarfed by the mountain of yarn balls on top of it. Despite the hodgepodge, there was something quite familiar about the place, a sense of déjà vu that piqued Billy's curiosity.

Billy placed his hands on his hips, clicking his tongue as if affronted by the mess before him. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, using a piece of yarn he chewed off to tie it up. (He would not look for sharp items in that Mess.) He heaved up a heavy bin of rolled newspapers, nudging an open can of reddish-brown paint aside with his foot as he gasped for breath.

At least, it was silent.

Billy huffed, hands on his hips before he dived into piles of art supplies. He disliked too much mess since it made it hard to think. There was so much stuff—baskets of watercolors, buckets of oil paints, tubes of acrylics, and towers of jars filled with miscellaneous supplies. He began separating the chaos into categories, which made his brain happy—drawing, painting, fabric, knitting, etc.

As he's moving a metal tin of colored pencils, his gaze caught onto something strange: a pair of pointed shoes, brown cap-toe oxfords, still polished with a gleaming sheen. As he moved away a bucket of unopened paint, his breath caught in his throat as he discerned the pant leg of a familiar brown suit.

"It can't be." Billy's voice hitched. "Mr. Dare…"

Dan Dare. The detective.

His stomach sank as he hurriedly clawed into the clutter, his trembling hands scraping against metal tins. Boxes of chalk toppled, spilling pink dust into the air. Bins of sketchbooks teetered precariously—a makeshift Tower of Pisa, while buckets of crayons were knocked over, a few loose crayons tumbling around. Billy's desperate cleaning halted; his breath hitched as he stilled at the sight.

A chair.

It looked normal enough—the sleek, glossy finish of the Beech arms and the soft, supple, genuine leather for the cushion. But the form? Following the curve of the backrest, the cushion flowed into a lower torso with a pair of legs clad in brown pants underneath. They were human. They were Dan.

Where flesh met wood, there wasn't a neat seam or clean cut of timber, but a continuous languid flow. Veins snaked through the beech wood and flawlessly transitioned to the chair's grain in the arms above. The lungs were absent, yet the lower part of the torso continued to inflate as if breathing.

Billy's gaze drew to the legs that twitched ever so often. Feet that stretched and relaxed as if leisurely resting on the ground.

Is this what it means to Become It?

This was not just horror nor the grotesque. This was the annihilation of everything that you are—a complete and total erasure of identity, and for what? To turn you into a tacky chair.

He realized a pivotal point—the Spiral was no longer playing with its food.

In fact, it was Hungry.

.

.

.

What if I stop being me?

Billy choked on inhaling his next breath. His heart fluttered like a hummingbird's wings as he clutched his chest. The Lichtenberg scars underneath his sweater pulled and ached as black crept along the edge of his vision.

The world tilted—skewed and slanted.

Billy's chest tightened further, and he thought his heart would crush his chest with the weight of Everything.

This wasn't about him.

He inhaled a deep, painful breath.

He breathed again to solidify himself, the darkness receded as he took continuous deep breaths in and out.

Back before his job at Whiz Radio, He remembered Mr. Dare.

Blonde, slick-back hair, a sunny smile, and an ear to listen to. "Do you have any allergies, kid?" The man warmly asked, handing Billy a brown paper bag from a sandwich shop. The smell of Cuban cigars and Hawaiian roast on his breath lingered in the cool, wintry air.

It's not fair.

He hadn't seen Dan for a couple of weeks. The kid figured Detective Dare was off helping TV moguls or multimillionaires. Not this.

Never this.

Crouching over Dan with his knees on the floor, the boy's hand wavered over the brown pants leg, hesitating over the fabric. Yanking his hand away, He placed it on his lap.

Billy's voice cracked as he crouched over Dan Dare, "Mr. Dare, I- I don't know if you can hear me, but you were a good person." His fingers scrunched up his jeans, balling into fists.

"I'm sorry you got turned into... this." A quick glance at the leather cushions wrapped between brown beech wood lurched the orphan's stomach. He reverted his gaze to the human part—the familiar half.

"You were a great detective. I'm glad I got to interview you." The small reporter sniffed, remembering the man's animated tales of intrigue, stakeouts, and close calls with Carol over Whiz Kid radio.

"It doesn't get to take that away from you." The boy wiped his eyes. "I'll remember you and make sure Fawcett remembers you, too."

At first, staring at the chair made him disgusted; nausea rose to his throat, threatening to empty into a paint can. But he pulled back; the disgust simmered and bubbled within him into something else—something hot and sharp. A spark ignited within him.

Was this funny? Did it make the Distortion tickled pink from warping Dan Dare to this?

The boy's gaze flicked to where the spray paint cans scattered near Dan's legs. "Fine," he spat, throwing the cap off as it bounced off an elegant black and gold orchid on the wallpaper. "Let's see how you like it." The spray can hissed out a streak of neon yellow across the flower and several phrases such as "STUPID" and "UGLY" right on top of a particularly offensive spiral.

He held the can out as he punted the aerosol container and jettisoned it into the sky with his foot. Anger burned deep within his stomach, churning a whirlwind of anger, grief, and something Else—something that Distorted. The tinkling of bells echoed in his ears, a constant ringing after a concert.

His hair grew longer, dangling over his face in tangled loops as he heaved a couple of breaths.

Shifting his eyes to the left, he glimpsed a hint of black amongst the plastic containers. The ringing sounded like pulsating beats of his heart with every step. Billy grabbed the box, flipping it open to reveal perfectly intact charcoal sticks.

His heart thundered as he held a handful of them to his eye.

The sight of it irritated him for some reason he couldn't explain. Charcoal—dust and ash, all left of a cloudless blue sky.

He crushed the charcoal sticks in his hands, his nails digging in deep. Black dust etched into every crease and line of his palms, leaving dark stains on his skin.

Suddenly, his eyes teared up. He wiped his eyes with his knuckles, only making it worse—staining charcoal smudging into his eyes, a blindfold of stinging tears and ashes. Blue and black melded and flowed as if a thumb coated with soot ran across the eyes of a watercolor painting.

Swaying across the room, Billy's dangling arms knock over paint cans and water cups as they absorb into the boy's fluid structure. His hair drips down a waterfall of purple, blue, and yellow pigments. His heartbeat takes on multiple tones as if played over a speaker underwater—muted, warbled, and barely recognizable.

He can't see. He can't see. He can't-

The high note and screeching tingling that hits his ears has his hands brush over a basket. It was powdery, smooth, and circular. Chalk. Where there were colors and almost overwhelming imagery, there was nothing but darkness. Red and yellow dripped over him as a cape, and he felt crushed by the immense pressure.

The lack of control over his body and form was too much. He retaliated the only way he knew how. He flipped the basket.

It erupted. Pounding, migraine-inducing bass vibrating the very ground, the facsimile of a boy stood. Reddish-brown powder and chalk dust reached the ceiling, unfurling into the shape of a mushroom with an expanding ring of dust and debris that rippled outwards; pieces of crayons and pencils rolled away from the epicenter—ripping his life into pieces.

Strangely enough, he sees with touch. Sensing the colors and shape, the liquid seeped into the pile, bringing up a floating piece of equipment. A microphone was connected to a wooden broadcast console. He wrapped a tendril of water around it, bringing the mic up the last recognizable part of his body—his mouth. He could feel that water was entering his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He was drowning in his own liquid.

He opened his mouth and uttered, "SHA-"

The lips hesitated, closing as if swallowing.

"Go on, finish it." The smug, gloating voice whispered in a sing-song tone reminiscent of a lullaby.

It was inevitable.

The mouth took one last breath and exhaled a word.

"No."

The static rose to a crescendo; it could feel the vibrations coursing through everything, inside and out. An earthquake shaking the very foundation of being. Baskets of arts and crafts tumbled and tossed in a salad, a blender ripping into every sense and meaning.

The water crashed, overturning the mouth, melding it to its giant amorphous fluid. There was no mouth, not anymore.

The shaking gradually ceased, and a stray chalk fell to the ground near the puddle of water within a bucket—streaks of watercolors, paint, marker, and ink swirled.

The Distortion waited for it to finally digest.

.

.

.

It thought it was erasing him, turning him into a fluid to easily digest.

Water can't be erased.

It adapts. It endures. It Becomes.

Transformation was nothing new to him. From street rat to Demigod, from kid to adult, and from life to death—he had faced change, and every change was a journey he would take—a responsibility he would shoulder.

He took a hypothetical breath.

Five things to see. The sense of vision was curious when it was seen through taste. The painted water flowed through the remnants, seeing the flavors amidst the entropic landscape— salty ink pooled into itself as it absorbed, gaining mass; sour paint flowed into thin, vibrant streams, sweet markers bleeding onto canvases; bitter oils floated on the surface, creating an iridescent sheen, and savory, metallic flavor of the colorful mist from a dented spray can. Four things to feel. The gurgling flow of water filling up a container, the drops of water dripping down onto the canvas below, the chaotic splash of the overflow, and the plop of liquid mass pooling onto a fractured ground. Three things to listen to. The plastic aroma of a fresh coat of acrylic as the water rippled, the harsh, sharp odor of spray paint gases mixed into the atmosphere, and the sweet, musty smell of watercolors spilled across a table. Two things to smell. The coolness of the slick surface, the roughness of the jagged edges of broken tiles. The water seeped through the cracks to pool near a slanted tile. One thing to taste. A yellow chalk teetered on a precarious edge of the ground, as water wrapped around it, the rushing force bringing it to the tile.

The Distortion watched as a child would drown an ant in a puddle it created—its fragmenting, twisted body filled with ever-changing fractals and shapes loomed over the body of water.

A chiming, crackling laughter escaped its body, glass shattering from the ocean's depths. The sound echoed, a sharp, discordant symphony of cruelty.

The sound reverberated through Billy. He may not have been able to hear it, but he felt it in his very being. It was a grating, uncomfortable feeling that rippled through his waters.

Still, he awkwardly fumbled a stray chalk to swirl in a faded-yellow spiral.

"Go on," it crooned sweetly, smug with indulgent malice. "Try your best."

The spiral began to take shape on the black tile under his makeshift, fluid-like hand. With each wave, he etched more of the spiral until it was recognizable.

He pushed against the tile with every lapping wave until it stood upright. Vertical with its spiral, menacingly observing the water before it.

He was not going to go through it.

He was going over it.

Expanding his mind, he concentrated on each piece of water. It was like peering around only Not. He could vaguely feel specks of warmth scattered around, or perhaps he tasted their colors.

Stray droplets leaned against the edges of the scrambled room before, fragments of color scattered about the surface. The leaning tower of sketchbooks stood proudly, having survived the tempest of the Distortion's anger.

Erosion.

At the base, a precarious point lay in wait in this game of Janga. All it would take was one move and the entire structure would come tumbling down.

And that was precisely what Billy needed.

The waves lapped at the tower's base, testing it as a school of piranhas circling their prey might.

Water crashed into the structure, prodding at one of the books. It wiggled, teasing the sketchbook loose from the stack with its alternating crest and troughs.

Soggy pages curled up in the edges, torn off by the constant ebb and flow. Water absorbed into the pages, smearing the black ink into a gray shadow.

It Is Not What It Is laughed, mocking the boy's efforts—a discordant melody of metal scraping onto cherry petals.

It only took one slip—a push against a particularly slippery journal binding, and the cracks propagated throughout. It started to sway like a skyscraper in the first tremors of an earthquake—sketchbooks and journals fell like a sudden deluge.

Pyroclastic flows of ripped pages and book bindings descended upon the water, creating deep amplitudes and displacing water in violent shifts.

The distance between the waves stretched further, rippling outwards.

As the crest approached the shallower water, the seabed of paint tubes and crayons slowed the approaching wave—faster water flows and built the wave higher and higher.

Then, the water began receding from the tile. Static churned in the air—a pressure drop and the oncoming storm's sharp, metallic scent.

Red tubes of paint lay scattered like uncovered seashells. Broken paint brushes stuck out of the glittering sand, drenched seaweed poking out. Interference intensified to howling winds through a tunnel.

Suddenly, a prominent crest rushed towards the black slate in a whirlwind of multicolored water. Billy's consciousness was on top of the wave's crest, surfing right on top, perched in the fierce, foaming waves. The Distorted, fractured form grew darker, tasting of soot and ozone.

As he neared the tile, Billy leaped over the upper border, soaring over the bar with droplets glinting like pearls. Fractals overhead roared in thunderstorms, and streams of yarn dangled like string cheese.

Like the bar of a long jump,

Billy felt absolute elation as he made it past the surface,

mere inches from the top.

The skim of liquid fell towards cracks and through the broken foundation before the roaring water broke the tile with the force.

A scream pierced through the air, amplified through the water, blood-curdling absent of the Distortion's nauseating imagery.

It was deeply human.

Desperate, almost.

.

.

.

Billy slipped through the gaps in the foundation, falling into darkness. Heat wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket. Droplets of water hissed as they evaporated, glistening like diamonds. They formed rivulets in the sky—blue, red, violet, and orange rivers.

The water that made up his current form began to foam and boil. Steam rose, transforming into trails of light behind him, like the tail of a comet. Above, the checkered sky framed his descent, starkly contrasting the flowing colors.

As he fell, the boiling water left behind dried remnants of color: red, black, white, yellow, and blue. Slowly, his form simplified, reducing into a watercolor figure. He tumbled through a surreal animation, flipping between frames of black-and-white paper.

The small orphan stretched out his arms, desperate to gain control over the rapid tumble. He slowed, his vision sharpening on a distant sphere—black or white, an inverse of the background behind him.

It wasn’t just a sphere. It was a hole. And he was falling straight into it.

As he drew closer, the sphere grew, consuming the entire frame. Now a speck against its vastness, Billy could feel time slipping away. It moved strangely, bending and warping in ways even the performative chaos of the Spiral couldn't achieve. Wonkier than anything he’d ever felt, not even the peculiar doors of The Rock of Eternity compared.

He tried everything to stop himself. Jumping, swimming, kicking, flying, running—none of it mattered. The pull was relentless.

The numbness began in his legs, spreading upward as they sank into the abyss. Then his stomach, his heart, until the darkness swallowed his eyes. It devoured his memories, form, and every piece of what made him him.

And then—

Nothing.

︵‿︵‿୨𖦹୧‿︵‿︵

Prev || Next

[merchant-wizard-and-jerry]

“Hello, I’m the friendly wizard _____. My name got taken by a fey prince but it hasn’t really hampered my life. Anyways I am new to this wider wizard community and would like to get along. I have a magic book, a cart, and a friend. His name is Jerry, he is a fungus colony that has taken over my magic book and acts sort of as my patron. He…is a little weird but great fun.”

*sound of an explosion in the background, a book flys by being chased by goblin shamans casting fire ball*

“He is…”

“He is fine.”

“Anyways, I am here to sell goods and make a small profit. If you need something I’ll see what I can do : ) ”

“Also apparently I helped smuggle an amnesiac @fattocatto-wizard out of the city in my wagon. That was a shock, though he was just a cat.

Character Cheat sheet

( 3 currency to 16 silver crowns and 2 copper crowns)

(3 skulls to a coin)

(2 currency to 1 gold)

(100 currency to a 1000 grams gold bar)

(1 currency per 10 grams of gold)

(Current balance 89,359.250,001 currency, one penny, 23 meat pucks, 14 pounds, 2 gold coins one with Julius Cesar on it, 3 naturally-grown mana stones, 2 highly enchant able metal pieces, and one bar, 1 special bug corpse, 1576.5 gold, silver 18, 70 aus, 5kg silver, magic dirt house size. 24 counterfeit currency. Moss/lichen-coded bio stone. An inverse cold torch. 99 BG silver. EMERALD LINCOLN, GOLDEN CARROT, 200 SALTED MEAT DISKS, 200 POLISHED ROCKS, 82 FIGET SPINNERS!, A FULLY EQUIPPED LICH'S DUNGEON, and a cardboard box (magic black marble).” Invisibility stone, a bundle of drake feathers, quantum locked rock, raw gold. 9 Gold coming from the green goblin empire, 50 mushrooms, 92 secret society emblem. 5 trans enchanted gold coins, 2 skull coin, ancient lost civilization fragment, 5 glistening green metallic coin, 31 writhing bugs of gold, jade coin. Pile of gold coins and gold coin bugs, pile of shines from harpy, dust, quantum glass shards, bag of tooth shaped candy, 6720 candies from the festival, bag of holding money bag, 68 money bags, 500 flat Foxen, double sided dollar coin, 3 floppies, a Brahman horn, a medkit, a few candy bars, and an umbrella, 130 goblins eggs (goblin cooked chicken eggs.), 17 bars of pure gold, 1 crate of guns, temp singularity potion. 762 grasshoppers glow in the dark.Book on the formation patterns of natural portals - @serious-tabaxi. Edward Evandrian’s expired library card. Gems and frenicx mother gem and a junkarian leap amethyst. white mithril sapling. Timeseed, infinite note book, time tunnel. A nice gold bag. bag full of candied scorpions 💰, large gem stone. 💰 💰 💰, gems = 70currency. 1/3rd a gold bar. Compass map, it's keyed to the Island of Silence. N=10^7 menger sponge. 2416 shadow cloaks, 52 shiny stones. 20$, 3 gold coins 100 grams. Gummy worms. 100 journals of Ventus Asamuran, Last Peacekeeper of Har Aminas. car keys, box of a 27 rusted necklaces with warding spells. an amulet made of stone, with blue rectangular crystals growing out of it. 48 shiny stones, 30 currency worth of silver. 3 sets of custom made chips @crickled-thorn-thug. Gold potion It opens a portal to the realm of metals! It causes any land within 20 feet to be transmuted, temporarily, into a variety of metals. If left untouched, the land reverts after a day. If harvested, the stuff stays metal and can be used. It also causes uhh 20 gold peices to spawn, and anyone within the radius to get a bit of vertigo. Causes slight iron deficiency, for some reason. 23 bouquets of metalic flowers. They're grown beneath volcanic chambers, uses the heat of magma as a supplement for sunlight. Given their environment, they grow petals sharper than claws and harder than steel. They can be used for creating armours and weapons. one box of nightmare inducing Mac and cheese)

(Currently holding baby dire bunnies. A ring of mana (covers energy into mana. Only suitable if you don’t have mana)

(Jerry’s balance 13 gold, a fancy rock, 1 coin, flower petals (snacks for later), harpy eyes, feathers, vocal cords, and talons, a coin with @informis-the-many-faced on it, it is locked away for emergencies. bottle of magic mold rejuvenation powder, wooden key @crickled-thorn-thug)

(Warlocks of Jerry @fungal-boy-witch-yay @ignisuadaroleplay @life-is-okay-rn2 I think that is who it was…)

(Possessions - wealth stone, Antidote stone)

Owner of membership cards

——————————

@the-final-knight-2

@confused-sorcerer

@bi-gender-sorcerer (+ 10% off for employee discount)

@the-mighty-dalob

@detectivewizzard

@goblin-wizard-in-the-making

@serious-tabaxi

@weltreths-wanderings

@ignisuadaroleplay (will)

@shittest-wizard-ever

@wizard-wylin-wylerian

@akronus-and-associates (the primordials)

—————————————

@hallowed-the-silver-gun

@jormungand-seas-champion

@crow-natures-wrath

@antros-ember-of-fear

@akronus-the-redeemed

@clockwork-time-watcher

@aldira-born-anew

——————————

@wizard-ghost

@yeast-wizard

@crickled-thorn-thug

@sorcererest-sorcerer

@damnable-druid (+ 10% off for employee discount)

@informis-the-many-faced

@kittycatwizard

@gun-sorcerer

@crime-wizard-conglomerate

———

Perks

———

5% off all purchases

Special requested items

More favorable bartering

———

[arthistoryanimalia]

#TwoForTuesday:

Ancient Roman lions on display at RISD Museum

1. LION'S-HEAD WATERSPOUT

c. 200 CE

Marble, 21.6 x 21.3 x 11.9 cm (8 1/2 x 8 3/8 x 4 11/16 in)

“This marble disk, carved in the form of a lion's head, would have functioned as an ornate waterspout in a fountain or nymphaeum (fountains with architectural settings for statuary) of a Roman House.

Embellishments such as this were popular in domestic gardens during the Roman era. The lion's features are now worn from centuries of weathering, and the calcium deposits around the mouth indicate a long period of use in antiquity. The back of the carved waterspout has been hollowed out into a funnel shape, which would have allowed a lead pipe (now lost) to stream water through the lion's open mouth.

In antiquity water displays were common in domestic settings — the sound of flowing water and the backdrop of a garden would have created a luxurious setting for entertaining guests.”

2. LION'S-HEAD HANDLE

2nd-3rd century CE

Bronze, 31.4 x 20.3 x 7.9 cm (12 3/8 x 8 x 3 1/8 in)

“The gaping jaws and bared teeth of this bronze lion's head convey the strength and ferocity that have made lions chosen guardian figures for millennia in both the Greek and Roman worlds. Representations of lions have been discovered in various contexts, appearing on gates and tombs in ancient Greece and on Roman sarcophagi (coffins), where they symbolize victory of the soul over death and evil. The four iron rivets visible in this lion's mane were the original attachments to a wooden door, chest, or perhaps a sarcophagus. This well-preserved handle, combining the artistic lion's head and the utilitarian swinging handle, is a stunning example of Roman decorative art.”

[gretchensinister]

Babylon 5 rewatch, S1 E3: Born to the Purple

Oh lol the TV-safe strip club

Yeah just take the bottle G'Kar

Lando is the first person in the series to canonically get laid (and wait till you learn later in the series what he's using!)

VIR on his switch in a meeting

"What do you want, you moon-faced assassin of joy???"--This is a line that has lived in my head for I guess 30 years now. Sometimes I think it when my alarm goes off

G'Kar on Vir's switch at the meeting

Don't worry the probe goes in your mind

Starlaces spotted! That would be a fun item to recreate actually

I mean, it's surely to simplify things for the actors, but Adira and Lando have such different accents that it makes me think, "oh, I wonder what that means socially/regionally for each of them"

Lando really is a Romantic at heart, I suppose

Oh, it's Ivanova

That's such a 90's pillow on their couch

As a kid I looked at the data crystals and was like "that's cool but inconvenient because you can't label it like a tape or floppy disk" and then I ended up with several unlabeled flash drives and those aren't even aesthetic

I hope Vir was in that cheery mood on purpose *at* Lando

We're going to the MALL to commit INTERPLANETARY CRIME

VIR YOU'RE BEING PROMOTED

"Don't give away the homeworld." --another line that stuck with me

Piss off Drakis

I forget what happened to KoDath, because NaToth became G'Kar's attache later

How did the station develop a criminal underworld so quickly

The Shady Bug again! You build a bug, you use a bug

Lando I love your cloak but it really doesn't fit with the vibe

In a way...it was really lucky for Ivanova to be able to do that, with her so far away.

Mmmm marbles (he did just put what looked like a marble in his drink right?)

Background people like "damn was that the ambassador kicking a guy?"

Oh Lando...