theres a knight in my backyard stabbing the ground with his sword trying to render my soil barren by killing the worms but luckily ive trained them all in classical ballet and they keep pirouetting away from the blade
you can’t get sentences like this anywhere else
Sometimes when I’m chanting in church or drinking a beer with friends or lying around and staring at the ceiling I’m like hell yeah I’m doing a Human Activity. This moment of my life could be included in a slideshow of common human behaviors. I’m doing common behaviors for my species.
People from 3,000 years ago would probably get the gist of what I’m doing here. This is awesome.
I'm going to get a good grade at being human, ect. ect.
Sometimes when I’m chanting in church or drinking a beer with friends or lying around and staring at the ceiling I’m like hell yeah I’m doing a Human Activity. This moment of my life could be included in a slideshow of common human behaviors. I’m doing common behaviors for my species.
People from 3,000 years ago would probably get the gist of what I’m doing here. This is awesome.
I'm going to get a good grade at being human, ect. ect.
What I love about this is seeing that he's clearly a hockey skater. Now, I don't know shit about fuck when it comes to cold slippy antics, but what I notice is different between hockey skaters and nearly all other skaters is that hockey skaters essentially run on the ice. Any other skater is trying to glide, perform, or be otherwise smooth. Create a new type of mobility, but on ice. But hockey skaters? The floor is slippery but that's why they've got knives on their feet, so it's running time. Run run run run.
So this is like playing tag on ice, except the one guy you're trying to get is magically not on ice. And I think that's pretty neat.
He’s also making really good use of the stoppers on the front of his skates. You can clearly see several times that when he starts juking and running he’s not actually running with the wheels in contact with the ground – he’s tipped forward to run on the rubber stoppers, which will give him more traction on the slippery surface. He can change direction faster because none of his kinetic energy is going into countering the inertia of spinning wheels.
I don’t know if the picks on the front of ice skates are used similarly (because ice hockey is not so much of a national pastime in Australia) but I wouldn’t be surprised. But I spent a bit of time with a roller derby team, and I recognised that particular stopper run :)
To counter those no-new-episode blues, have a silly little doodle-comic!
I think way to much about the best kept secret of the Lavish Chateau constantly escaping her minders.
[image description: a six-panel comic of a toddler-aged Jester and a massive dual-horned minataur, Bluud. In every panel, Bluud is sitting in profile in a fancy red and gold chair, arms crossed and one leg crossed over the other. He’s wearing a dark gray tunic with red detailing and matching pants. Jester, a blue-skinned tiefling with dark blue hair in a braid and a tufted tail, is wearing a green sundress. In the panels, she toddles over to Bluud, then waves her hands upwards as if asking to be picked up, saying “Blud! Blud.” Bluud bows his head so Jester can grab onto his horns, then pulls her up onto his lap as she squeals with delight. Jester holds onto his horns for a minute, happily saying “Blu! Blu! Blud!” Then she sits atop his crossed arms, smiling and singing, as he smiles and rests his chin on the top of her head. From out of frame, someone is calling, “Little Sapphire?”]
Emile Baes (Belgian, 1879 - 1953)
picture resolution 600 × 1127
More by #emile baes enjoypaitings
so like. obviously it's an immensely tragic route to take but sometimes it's just so satisfying for a story to go "there's no happy ending this time. resistance is futile in this scenario. the 'good guys' can't win. this is a pointless last stand. so for their final act, our beloved characters are going to rock the antagonist's shit so fucking hard it makes you stare at a wall struggling to process what just happened and how you feel about it for hours afterwards."
i simply think that sometimes it's the best possible narrative decision to allow characters to become supernovas, imploding on themselves but taking as much with them as possible. "you can't save anyone" "maybe not, but i can hurt you". fuck yes. if you can't beat them, tear them apart.
hello may i interest you in an Essek Thelyss in these trying times? 🤲
“Scans show that the winds are blowing completely sideways at forces strong enough to force all vegetation to grow along the ground.”
The human shrugged and continued putting on their atmospheric suit.
“It’s cold enough that the water is entirely frozen, even when underground.”
“You’re not talking me out of this, so stop trying,” the human insisted.
“But, the debris alone will kill you! The wind will throw you around like your pet does the cloth toy! The frozen surface will make it so you cannot grip the surface!”
The human grabbed their helmet. “I appreciate you’re trying to keep me safe, but that planet might hold the greatest discovery humans have ever seen. I’m going.”
“You’ll never make it underground. The surface conditions-”
“Are no worse than Antarctica, and my great grandfather traversed that. Besides, I can’t expect you to understand.”
“It’s an underground ice cave. There’s nothing of importance!”
The human finished securing their suit. “There’s a patch of flowers by that underground lake, with a suspiciously human looking skeleton next to it. I’m going down there to figure out who’s there, why, and what happened. Now you can either help me or leave me alone.”
“Fine, but I want it known that if you die, I will NOT be retrieving your body.”
“How long has Damon been gone?” Ega asked.
Yalko looked up from the scans, knowing perfectly well what the answer was but still hesitant to share. “Damon’s scans show he is still alive, but he hasn’t moved in hours.”
Ega sat in quiet contemplation for a minute. Damon was the only human on the ship, but Ega was doubtful any of the crew onboard could survive long enough to retrieve him.
“Send drones to check if he’s alright,” Ega commanded.
Yalko looked confused. “What drones Captain?”
Ega looked towards the head engineer, and responded when she didn’t. “Damon has been working with engineering in secret to make drones out of spare parts.”
Owia turned to face the Captain. “I take full responsibility for the missing parts Captain Ega. He said he was bored. The human guide warned against a bored human. I decided it was better to sacrifice some parts to keep an eye on him than it was to let him figure out something on his own.”
Ega ignored the admission of guilt. “Are the drones flight ready?”
Owia relaxed. “Yes Captain. I’ll send them right away.”
The bridge watched the screen as Owia and several other engineers piloted the drones down to the planet. Two drones carried signal boosters and were staged, one right inside the storm, one further in, so the others could relay a strong vid feed back to the ship.
For several minutes, the only thing that could be seen was white. And then they finally broke through to the cave Damon had traveled to explore.
The cave appeared as plain as Yalko had tried to convince Damon it was. The drone was carefully piloted towards Damon’s tracker.
Damon himself came into view. He was kneeling on the ground, odd flowers sprouted in front of him. The skeleton the scans picked up did appear semi human, but not human.
“Can we establish contact?” Ega asked.
“No Captain. We have audio but no way to speak to him. He knows we’re here though. He must. These drones are not quiet,” Owia answered.
“What is he doing?” Ega asked.
“If I had to guess, sir, I’d say he’s performing a human funeral rite. Although I’m not overly familiar with any myself,” Yalko offered.
The bridge watched quietly for another hour as Damon knelt before the body, unmoving. He finally shifted.
“Oh my knees.” Damon slowly stood, stretching his body as he did. He turned to the drone. “Don’t worry guys, I’ll be back in just a bit.”
The drone accompanied Damon back to his ship. The vid cut out as the storms took out the two boosters.
“We’ve lost the drones,” Owia stated.
Yalko stayed watching Damon’s scan until he safely docked with the ship. As soon as medical was done checking up on him, he was brought to the bridge to explain.
“The skeleton was a chimp, a primate from earth. It was surrounded by snowdrops, or a variation of snowdrops at least. I brought back his tag.” Damon held up a scrap of cloth. A white flower sat next to it. “His name was Hamlet. I guess he was sent up back when humans were first trying for space travel. I don’t know how the hell he made it out this far, or survived the wreckage of his own crash, but anyone who fights to live that hard deserves a funeral. He deserves to be remembered.”
“Why did you spend so long with the skeleton? Surely human rites aren’t that long,” Ega asked.
“I wanted him to know what his sacrifice allowed us to accomplish, and how sorry I was that he died alone and scared. I wanted to spend some time with him so he wasn’t alone, and I left him a friend so he wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore.”
“What did you leave?” Ega asked.
Yalko studied the quiet human.
“Marceline,” Damon answered.
Yalko couldn’t help but blurt out in surprise. “You gave up your trinket? You don’t go anywhere without your trinket.”
Damon nodded. “Yeah, but she always did like the snow better anyway.”
Ega chose not to disagree with the human’s anthropomorphisms of dead animals and toys. “We shall send these findings off to the historians and alert the human council of this site. With luck, Marceline and Hamlet will not be alone for long.”
What I imagine some snippets of Orym’s life in Zephrah
Slack Wyrm #928.5 - www.joshuawright.net
“Time is one of my specialties.”
Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because they’re used to writing essays rather than prose. I don’t wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesn’t offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (“dialogue tag” just refers to phrases like “he said,” “she whispered,” “they asked”):
And!
Reblog to save a writer’s life.
Jonathan, looking out the window and once more watching Dracula scale the walls like a lizard:
[ID: The meme image of Ben Affleck smoking on a balcony, looking disheveled, exhausted, and exasperated.
Below is an edit of the same image so that he is dressed in a Victorian suit, wearing a rosary, looking out a castle window. END ID]
