the worst part of being a non smoker is ill never light someones cigarette with my own in an indirect kiss fraught with erotic tension
the second worst part is not having a reason to own one of those cute vintage cigarette cases
keeps my chapstick in one of these
this is so on the nose
THERE’S A TERM FOR IT?!?!?
I've also heard this as "every system is perfectly designed to achieve the results that it actually delivers"
This axe is perfectly crafted out of a single piece of stone! From the Late Mississippian culture, around 1300 to 1500 CE.
I don’t think I have the chops for D&D or other tabletop RPGs but I could make a good DM’s assistant. I don’t play the game but I sit and listen and then after the session the DM can ask me for ideas.
and I am in character as the king’s most trusted advisor the whole time
I could say things like “yes, my liege, most clever, my liege” and keep notes for the DM and maybe supply a few character voices. and serve everyone very sinister tea.
No. I’m not looking for any words. Dungeon Mentat suits me just fine.
I believe he rolled a 3,my lord... He does this to spite you...
Honestly, I wish this were normalized specifically because it would act as a sort of apprenticeship for folks who'd like to one day be dungeonmasters but don't want to jump into the deepend. The experienced dm doing the mentoring likewise gets to offload some of the busywork of running/prepping the game onto someone who needs the practice. I know I'd love someone to workshop ideas with, as well as help pad out my adventures/dungeons with 10-20% more encounters.
This is to say nothing of how great it is to just have someone around to talk to about your game. DMing is a lonely art, especially when you have longterm plans that may take weeks or months to manifest.
Decoding PR Talk (IGN64.com The Magazine #1, 1998)
The straight woman is unsatisfied with straight studio porn. She wants to get off to something in which the actors actually emote and show passion beyond canned moans from the women and, at best, vacant grunts from the men. She turns to gay porn. She knows it's not "for her," but neither was the straight porn, and at least the actors look like they're enjoying themselves. And for a short while she is satiated by Sean Cody et al, but she runs into the same problems she had to begin with. She was not looking at sex but a simulacrum of sex, trapped in Plato's cave. Unsatisfied, she turned to vintage gay porn, harkening to a time when most gay bars still had darkrooms and reliably smelled of piss and Amyl Nitrite. Here was the real thing, in all its animalistic passion. But she still couldn't immerse herself in the fantasy. She wanted the media to engage with her own imagination and meet her half-way, rather than having it spoonfed to her onscreen. She turned to yaoi, with its elongated figures reminiscent of mannerist portraiture, then bara, including hardcore BDSM scenes. But the tactile sensations depicted in the pages didn't do justice to their real life counterparts. She turned deeper into her own imagination, this time reading erotica. No, not the poolside paperbacks sold at Barnes and Noble. The good shit. Why then, was she still not satisfied? She dug deeper, searching for the true meaning of eroticism. She studied the psychoanalysis of Freud, the cultural criticism of Susan Sontag, the feminist poetry of Audre Lorde. She took vacation time and flew to Europe, starting at the caves of Lascaux to explore the human urge to create, then traversed the Camino de Santiago on foot, along the way meeting a 56 year old carpenter from Burgos named Andrés, with whom she had an explosive affair. They both knew it couldn't last, which made them cherish each other's touch all the more. Upon flying home, she gave up. If her search for true eroticism never bore fruit this whole time, why would it now? It would take years before she stumbled upon the answer by pure happenstance: dubstep.
I am at the beginning of the 'Do you love the color of the sky?' post.
Tolkien started rewriting the Hobbit in the style of LotR, but what I really want is the Silmarillion in the style of the Hobbit.
In a hole in the fabric of the universe there lived a god.
Now, this was not one of those minor gods of bedtime stories or petty wars for heaven; this was the One God, all-loving and all-knowing, who created the world – only he hadn’t created the world just yet, which is why he was sitting in a hole in the fabric of the universe.
PLEASE GO ON
“A Silmaril! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about them, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort of remarkable tragedy. Oaths and kinslaying sprouted up all over the place wherever they went, in the most extraordinary fashion.”
“This is a story of how the children of Húrin had an adventure, and found themselves doing and saying things altogether unexpected.”
“The killing of the Beleg Strongbow, by his own sword in the dark of Taur-nu-Fuin, made a great difference to Mr. Turambar. He felt a different person, and much more full of madness and despair, as he fled into the darkness and chose a new name- Agarwaen.”
“Morgoth came forth far quicker than Fingolfin had expected. He was frightfully angry. Quite apart from the challenge, no Maia ever likes being called one whom earth and heaven abhors, and of course monstruous craven lord is insulting to anybody.”
“Then something Fëanor-ish woke up inside of his sons, and they wished to go and lay claim to the Silmaril, and to throw down Dior son of Beren, and raid the gold-filled caves of Doriath, and go kinslaying again.”
… this… is…ridiculous, and I love it.
Ugh, was having a great time mocking my recently imprisoned rival when I noticed the camera positioning makes it so that I appear behind the bars, thus framing me as trapped in a metaphorical prison of the narrative, now my whole day is ruined. Fuck.
I get it, man. The other day, I survived a shootout, only to realize that a stray bullet went through a mirror in such a way as to look from the camera's perspective like I got shot in the head through the mirror, so now I have to acknowledge that something that could be reasonably referred to as "me" really did die that day, and it's just like "jfc, gimme a BREAK"
ugh dont even get me started on how the other day i tried to sit on the throne of my conquered foe and light a cigar to celebrate my victory but the lighter wouldnt work and it had to be lighted by the vizier who used to work for my enemy but that i enlisted to work as a double agent and help me in my coup. that jerk afterwards said with a devilish smile "ill always be at your service my liege" and i just KNOW that he said that exact same thing to the previous ruler. signifying that my victory was phyrric since i am still caught in an endless cycle of violence and betrayal. that really spoiled the whole mood
We need like “unclench your jaw” posts but for eye strain. Like
Go look at something 20ft away for 20 seconds.
take off your glasses if you wear them for 20 seconds
Recommended by my optometrist
Look at something 20 feet away, then 10, then 5, then one, then if you can your nose.
Repeat twice, then again without glasses.
Face forward look out of the corner of your eye. As far as you can look. Slowly move to the other corner. Repeat twice.
Look down as far as you can. Slowly look up. Repeat twice.
Roll eyes twice.
Close eyes for five minutes.
I do this every day usually at my halfway point. My migraines went away. My vision go better. Honestly stretching my eyes as she put it feels great too.
Tried to figure out how I've been running these things and I came up with this
