He has done TERRIBLE things
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@captchatrampstamp
He has done TERRIBLE things
#potato

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#blessed #buttery đœ
When I graduated from high school in the very early 2000âs, we did a âSafe and Saneâ party where you stayed up literally til the butt crack of dawn and got prizes, played games, all kinds of stuff. Basically, âSpend a night with your friends so you donât go drink and dieâ .
You were locked in a sports complex for some damn reason and there were people wearing sumo suits. I made a flying leap into an inflatable castle that I will never recreate as long as I live.
Most people went strong til about 2 AM. The goal was to stay awake til dawn after all. Maybe a couple sleepy eyes in the movie room which was darkened and quiet, carpeted floor and all. Some were gently harassed awake.
3 AM is where most regular partiers gave up and headed for Quiet Space. The soft, warm, safe place we know we need to return to in order to rest. Comfortable dark place. We become like little spiders hiding our tired bodies in cracks and crevices, seeking rest and safety. About 50% had entered Quiet Space by this time.
4 AM? Forget it. Quiet Space now becomes a pull- the yawning, shivering, weary feeling of real tiredness overwhelms any more urge to party, and other tired friends allow us to end the fight by welcoming us into the piles of slumbering bodies on the carpet.
In my uncomfortable half-slumber next to my best friend, I wonder if this is instinct. Were we piling ourselves with our friends and relatives when all we had was fire and a cave for shelter? When the winds howled outside and the predators stayed just out of the firelight.
I want to turn to her today, and say:
Hold onto me in your dreams. We have faced the cave lions and the storms, and your screams of victory over the monsters made your face the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Necromancer Wafer
"Enoch, I thought you said we were getting something for the ritual tonight?"
"We are."
"Okay, then why are we in this candy shop?"
The tall, weathered spellcaster sighed, and glanced back at me with what seemed to be a look reserved for the ignorant, particularly stupid children, or maybe just me. He put the hood of his cloak up over his head, covering thick black ringlets any girl would kill for.
"We're here, my bosom companion, to acquire the very thing that we seek for the ritual."
I stopped, staring at him blankly.
"The secret ingredient is...candy? Can't we get that anywhere?" I asked, staring around at the racks of sugary treats on display in front of me. Twisting rainbow lollies in all shapes, ropes of licorice, mounds of chocolate, and piles and piles of boiled sweets in every color seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. Happy children seemed to run in and out of the shop constantly as the plump, pleasant-looking woman behind the counter looked on.
Enoch sighed again. A deep, grumpy sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.
"Yes, Karkin, if we were seeking regular candy," he whispered, glancing towards the shopkeeper. "But the particular sweet that I seek is only available in shops run by a certain...class of owners. The Wafer is only known from Narvia, and only those creatures who lure and feast upon the unwary will have it. It is a sweet made from a flower that is known to intensify and strengthen necromancer's spells."
Approaching the counter, He nodded to the young, rather fetching young woman who stood there, and she fixed her gaze upon him.
Something about her seemed...sticky.
Enoch glanced back again, a knowing look. He turned to the woman again, and placed his hands on the counter. She smiled widely, turning up the bright, false friendliness of someone who wants to make a sale. The effect was rather dazzling.
"Hello gents, what can I get for you today?" she cooed in her sweet country accent. "We have some lovely strawberry jellies just in from Falmouth, and I might just have some crystallized ginger too. You fellows look like you could use a treat for the mountains!"
Enoch leaned forward, and in a voice that approached a deep, threatening growl, he said, simply, "We seek the wafer."
The woman nearly pitched back, as though she had been slapped. She smoothed her skirts in a nervous sort of way, and her eyes darted to a door towards the back of the shop.
"I'm sorry sir, what sort of candy is that? Is it imported? I do have some excellent blackberry lollies from just over-"
"Enough. I know you're one of them. We'll leave here with the wafer or your head, beast. The choice is yours."
A shimmer of green overtook her entire body...and her face appeared to melt. Her features twisted into an ugly, disturbing grin. Her cheeks widened, jaws extending outward as if a wolf or a bear was attempting to break it's way out of her face. Razor-sharp teeth erupted from her mouth, and a deep, thrumming, reptilian hiss emanated from the creature's now-hideous grin. She flexed black, wickedly sharp claws, chuckling nastily.
"You seek the wafer, weak little human? Then take it from me, if you dare. It has been too long since old Orsha had a good meal," she purred in her thick, honeyed tones.
Enoch appeared unimpressed, nearly rolling his eyes. My hand had flown to my sword, and I was wondering how quickly I could turn a peppermint stick into a makeshift shiv. Not nearly fast enough, my inner voice confirmed. Why don't I ever have better ideas?
She began to climb over the counter, claws extended and aiming for Enoch's face. Enoch, still appearing entirely too nonplussed for my taste, simply took a small blue marble-like object from his pocket and slammed it, hard, on the counter right under the vile thing's nose.
Night-dark smoke, smelling vaguely of cinnamon and brimstone, boiled from the smashed marble, and the creature let out a scream that shook the very walls.
As the smoke cleared, she stood there. Completely frozen. Her yellowed eyes, shot through with red veins, searched the room desperately, her look of hunting glee now replaced by fear.
"Hwaght 'id oo duh terr merrr!? Agh 'an't 'ove!"
"Narvanian nightshade. It's harmless to humans, but paralyzing to Narvish Imps," said Enoch, grinning smugly as he patted the creature's wet, dripping head- as if admonishing a naughty pet. The creature tried to screech and struggle, but only produced a wet, choked sound that was more akin to a plugged drain.
" 'Ine. 'Ake er 'amn 'afer an' 'et ouf."
"That's more like it. Should wear off in a few hours, dearie."
" 'Uck you."
****
We strode out of the shop, our prize in hand. Enoch appeared inordinately pleased with himself.
"That was a stupid risk. You could have TOLD me we were about to encounter a damn monster, Enoch!"
Enoch chuckled and pocketed the plain, purple tablet that he had fished from the imp's sticky pockets. "If I'd have told you, Karkin, she would have seen it on your face. Narvish imps not only lure humans to their deaths with tricks and sweets, but they're also adept at spotting liars and fakes. So as long as you didn't know, you couldn't fake your expressions."
I sighed and briefly considered clouting the smug bastard around the ear.
"Fine. But I agree with the imp, Enoch. Fuck you."
"And a happy All Hallows' Eve to you too, Karkin. Don't be late to the ceremony."
*****
Controversial opinion, but ur allowed to like things that suck
Like, sometimes there are just shows or books that are so goddamn awful for any number of reasons⊠But ya still like âem somehow, and thatâs fine
Itâs not required to write a 20+ page essay defending why you enjoy something shitty, you can just⊠Enjoy shitty things
Not all content is made equally and youâre allowed to like things that are far from perfect
Like, just, âThis show sucks, but I like it anywayâ is a totally valid response
âItâs comforting,â is a legit answer.
âI like reading about clothes,â is a legit answer.
âitâs brain popcorn, and I donât feel like delving into something deep,â is a legit answer.
âIâve read it so many times I can basically recite it, and it relaxes me by being familiar,â is a legit answer.
You donât need to justify your taste. Stop feeling guilty about liking things, or liking the âwrongâ things. Life is hard and bleak right now, get fun where you can.

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A call rang out in distant mountains, beckoning from far away.
Friendly reminder to not punish yourself for creating.Â
Can you elaborate on what you mean by this?
I have a tendency to beat myself up whenever something I make doesnât meet my expectations (which is always). The result is that finishing something = bad feelings: I am effectively punishing myself for having created something. The natural reaction to this punishment is an aversion to creation, meaning that my perfectionism is harming me, not only by causing me to despise what I do make and by impeding the creative process, but by attacking even my desire to create.
We had an assignment in class to use images to control the meaning of a quote. I decided to take a bible quote and use it to illustrate my fear of human extinction.
becoming vegan because factory farming is unethical is like deciding that since walmart and amazon mistreat their employees you are now going to get everything you need out of dumpsters
in a nutshell, instead of reforming the bad parts of your society, you try to opt out of it in a way that has really no effect, and wouldnât work at all if the majority of people werenât still part of the industry you dislike.
there was, for a while, a real movement of people who tried to get everything out of dumpsters, as a way of opting out of capitalism. but the problem was that you couldnât get what you need when you need it, leading to you being kind of a drain on your community, and someone had to buy that stuff in the first place for it to end up in that dumpster anyway. it was Fundamentally Silly.
going vegan to opt out of farming practices has similar problems. for instance: you (hypothetical vegan you) wonât buy honey, but the bees are being used to fertilize the vegetables and fruit you eat, theyâre making the honey anyway, all youâve done is â well, nothing, because youâre not a big enough demographic to make an impact, but even if you were, honey sales are a much smaller part of beekeepersâ income than crop pollination. and beekeeping is not a big faceless corporate interest. itâs not monsanto. itâs a bunch of single-family or partnership business with a truck or two and a couple hundred hives. the bees make honey after a pollinating run, and the beekeepers sell it for a little extra income. if you made a dent in that, youâd be achieving nothing but making joe beekeeper buy his kidsâ t-shirts at k-mart instead of target.
animal farming and plant farming are deeply interconnected. plant farmers grow animal feed; animal farmers sell manure for fertilizer. most non-corporate farmers raise both plants and animals. itâs more economic and gives them more resilience.
if you were a big enough demographic to hit âthe farming industryâ in its wallet. you would be making things MUCH harder for small farmers than for factory farms. you would be making it easier and easier for factory farms to crowd family farmers out of business. so thatâs pretty much achieving the opposite of what you want, right there.
and then thereâs the fact that plant farming is just as rife with gruesome factory farm conditions as animal farming, but itâs humans who are exploited in those. iâm not going to level accusations of racism here, but it really is unfortunate how little the vocal internet vegan contingent seems to know or care about the exploitation of the mostly nonwhite workers in the industry. it makes yâall look racist, whether you are or not.
look, i keep saying this, even though folks never seem to hear me: i donât hate vegans, iâm not trying to stop you being vegan, i do not care what you eat.
my problem is with defensive internet vegans trying to promote their dietary restriction lifestyle as a solution to problems in the real world. it is not. it may create more problems than it solves, or maybe it breaks even, i donât know. it certainly doesnât solve anything that canât be solved just as well without it. it can only look reasonable from a perspective of deep ignorance about where food comes from and how the farm economy works. you basically have to be young, urban, and somewhat privileged to embrace it. and it is, fundamentally, very silly.
Furthermore Iâd like you to look at a sheep farm. Actually look at it.
You CANNOT grow crops there. Thatâs WHY there are sheep on it.
You refuse to use wool, well aside from.the fact that itâs a fantastic fiber and how polluting polyester and other plastic fibers are, it doesnât harm the animal to remove and in fact is done for their benefit.
Above - a sheep farm (note steep and craggy hills), an uncompressed bale of freshly shorn wool and some sheep being shorn.
Itâs not stressful for the sheep. Sheep are dumb. Be confident, dont hurt them and theyâre good. Wool is a good fiber - strong, warm - even when wet - renewable and biodegradable.
My issue with Veganism-As-A-Cult is the lack of critical thinking. By all means eat what you want, wear what you want to wear but a blanket ban on all animal products because theyâre HARMFUL is in itself an extremely harmful philosophy.
Do you refuse to eat plants that were pollinated by bees or fertilized by manure since theyâre a product of animal labour?
Honey doesnât hurt bees. Wool doesnât hurt sheep.
What about animals that are going to die anyway? We are currently in the process of exterminating possums in our country as they are a pest and destroyer of our native species. We kill them humanely but theyâre still going to die because its them (introduced pest) or our endemic endangered species. We use the meat for pet food and the fur for a lot of things now - in making yarns or fur items - because the alternative is to let it rot. Which is just bloody wasteful tbh.
What would (generic) you prefer we do here? Let sheep die of over heating or the weight of wet wool? Force bees into swarming (90% casualty rate) so we can avoid taking their honey? Leave pest animals to rot and encourage the use of set-and-forget traps since thereâs no incentive to check them?
Whatâs the humane option?
see: why I hate militant veganism
Veganism, as I have encountered it, tends to be a thing that morally smug white people try to spring on others as a quick fix solution for the world, and I resent it more every day.

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DIY STAMPED CLAY BOWLSÂ
Druid (deer form)
Druids are keepers of the world who walk the path of nature. To druids, nature is a delicate balance of actions in which even the smallest imbalance can create storming turmoil from peaceful skies. Druids draw their power from this natural energy, using it to change their shapes and command the forces of nature. 100% handmade from velvet clay and acrylic. Height: 8.66 inches.Â
This is a crystal dino! The crystals on its back are genuine amethyst crystal points. đ
A thin voice whispered, âWake up.â
sorry if iâm being a party pooper but because rabies is apparently the new joke on here ??? please remember that rabies has an almost 100% fatality rate after symptoms develop so if youâre bitten or scratched by an animal that you arenât 100% sure is vaccinated then GO TO A DOCTOR. itâs not a joke. really.Â
Youâre being kind when you say âalmost 100% fatalityâ. What people need to hear is: if you get to develop rabies symptoms, youâre dead. If you get heavy treatment after developping symptoms, you still need a miracle. Like, a real miracle, you should enter some religion if you escape that.
ALSO, I donât want people feeling confident about petting stray/wild animals because thereâs a vaccine available, either. Iâll explain why from my own experience (Iâm not a doctor).
I got bitten by a wild tamarin once, on the pulp of my index finger. It drew blood, there are many wild animals in the area (tamarins, possums, bats, foxes) and it isnât that uncommon to hear about 1 or 2 rabies cases every now and again (a puppy we gave to a friend got it, for instance), so I went to an ambulatory immediately.
Because I was bitten in an ultrasensitive area, I needed fast treatment. But it was also a small area, so the usual thing they do - inject the vaccine in the place - wasnât a choice. They told me theyâd divide the shot in 5 small ones, and inject me all over my body, so the antidote would get to my entire system fast.
Please stop for a moment and think that the disease is so worrysome that theyâd rather needle me all over than to give me one shot and wait until it spread through my system.
Then they said that, okay, but there was a catch first. I needed to take an antiallergic shot. âWhy?â âBecause the virus is devastating, and as the vaccine is made from it, but weakened (like almost every vaccine) it will still create a reaction, and itâs a strong one, and itâs veru common for people to have strong allergic reactions to it.â YOU HAVE TO TAKE AN ANTIALLERGIC SHOT IN ORDER TO TAKE THE VACCINE COZ THE VACCINE COULD POTENTIALLY MAKE YOU REALLY SICK
ALSO IT WASNâT JUST âA LITTLE ANTIALLERGIC SHOTâ
IT WAS ONE OF THESE FUCKERS HERE.
It was OBVIOUSLY dripped in my body and not injected because HAHAHAHA. Truth be told I was an adult already and Iâm tall so I have a lot of mass but STILL.
So after I had taken the antiallegic and was starting to feel drowsy (as a side effect of it) the doctor came with the 5 shots.
- One in each buttock
- One in each thigh
- One in my left arm
They all stung like a bitch and I usually donât care about shots.
âOkay so can I go home now?â
âNo, we have to keep you under observation for 2h so weâre SURE the vaccine wonât give you any reaction.â
BINCH I WAS GIVEN A BUTTLOAD OF MEDICINE BUT THERE WAS STILL A RISK.
I slept through the two hours and then was liberated to go home. My legs, butt, and left arm hurt all over, like I had been punched there, for a few days. I also had a fever (not feverish, a fever)
BUT DID YOU THINK IT WAS OVER?
WRONG!!!
I had to take four reinforcement shots in the next month, one a week, so I could be positively be considered immunized. Every time I took a shot, my arm would swell and hurt like itâd been hit, and when night came Iâd have a fever. Because thatâs how fucking strong the vaccine is, BECAUSE THATâS HOW VICIOUS THE VIRUS IS.
So yeah. DO NOT PUT YOURSELF IN RISK, GODDAMNIT. Rabies is a rare condition all over, THANK GOD, and 1 confirmed case can be already considered a surge and a reason for mass campaigning, AND FOR A REASON.
If you like messing with stray/wild animals, donât go picking them up and be extra careful. Or just, like, DONâT - call a vet or an authority that can handle them safely.
I must add that I live in a country with universal healthcare, so I didnât pay a single penny for my treatment. Is this your reality? If not, ONE MORE REASON TO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH THIS SHIT.
Rabies is 100% lethal. Period. If you are scratched or bitten by an animal youâre not positive is vaccinated, you need to find treatment NOW. And probably go through all that shit Iâve been through (also if you are immunosupressed? I DONâT KNOW WHATâD HAPPEN)
Stay safe and donât be stupid ffs
Guys, I know this isnât art nor anything like that, but Iâve been hearing about this rabies thing and ???? Look I trust none of you would risk yourselves like this, but maybe you can educate someone through my experience and stuff.
Also rabies does not necessarily cause frothing-at-the-mouth aggression in animals. Docility is also a very common symptom so any wild animal that is âfriendlyâ or âlikes to be petâ is suspect. Literally any wild animal is a vector.
Finally, you donât need to be bitten. All you need is to come into contact with an infected animalâs bodily fluids through a cut that maybe you didnât notice when you were handling it when it drooled on you.
Never touch a wild animal.
Infection with the rabies virus progresses through three distinct stages.
Prodromal: Stage One. Marked by altered behavioral patterns. âDocilityâ and âlikes to be petâ are very common in the prodromal stage. Usually lasts 1-3 days. An animal in this stage carries virus bodies in its saliva and is infectious.
Excitative: Stage Two. Also called âfuriousâ rabies. This is what everyone thinks rabies isâhyperreacting to stimuli and biting everything. Excessive salivation occurs. Animals in this stage also exhibit hydrophobia or the fear of water; they cannot drink (swallowing causes painful spasms of the throat muscles), and will panic if shown water. Usually lasts 3-4 days before rapidly progressing into the next stage.
Paralytic: Stage Three. Also called âdumbâ rabies. As the infection runs its course, the virus starts degrading the nervous system. Limbs begin to fail; animals in this stage will often limp or drag their haunches behind them. If the animal has survived all this way, death will usually come through respiratory arrest: Their diaphragm becomes paralyzed and they stop breathing.
And to add onto the above, saliva isnât the only infectious fluid. Brain matter is, too. If, somehow, you find yourself in possession of a firearm and faced with a rabid animal, do not go for a head shot. If you do, you will aerosolize the brain matter and effectively create a cloud of infectious material. Breathe it in, and youâll give yourself an infection.
When I worked in wildlife rehabilitation, I actually did see a rabid animal in person, and it remains one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, because I was literally looking death in the eyes.
A pair of well-intentioned women brought us a raccoon that they thought had been hit by a car. They had found it on the side of the road, dragging its hind legs. They managedâsomehowâto get it into a cat carrier and brought it to us.Â
As they brought it in, I remember how eerily silent it was. Normal raccoons chatter almost constantly. They fidget. They bump around. They purr and mumble and make little grabby-hands at everything. Even when theyâre in pain, and especially when theyâre stressed. But this one wasnât moving around inside the carrier, and it wasnât making a sound.
The clinic director also noticed this, and he asked in a calm but urgent voice for the women to hand the carrier to him. He took it to the exam room and set it on the table while they filled out some forms in the next room. I took a step towards the carrier, to look at our new patient, and without turning around, he told me, âGo to the other side of the room, and stay there.â
He took a small penlight out of the drawer and shone it briefly into the carrier, then sighed. âBear, if you want to come look at this, you can put on a mask,â he said. âItâs really pretty neat, but I know youâre not vaccinated and I donât want to take any chances.âÂ
And at that point, I knew exactly what we were dealing with, and I knew that this would be the closest I had ever been to certain death. So I grabbed a respirator from the table and put it on, and held my breath for good measure as I approached the table. The clinic director pointed where I should stand, well back from the carrier door. He shone the light inside again, and I saw two brilliant flashes of emerald greenâthe most vivid, unnatural eyeshine I had ever seen.Â
âI donât know why it does it,â the director murmured, âbut it turns their eyes green.â
âWhat does?â one of the women asked, with uncanny, unintentionally dramatic timing, as she poked her head around the corner.
âRabies,â the director said. âThe raccoon is rabid. Did it bite either of you, or even lick you?â They told us no, said they had even used leather garden gloves when they herded it into the carrier. He told them to throw away the gloves as soon as possible, and steam-clean the upholstery in their car. They asked how they should clean the cat carrier; they wanted it back and couldnât be convinced otherwise, so he told them to soak it in just barely diluted bleach.
But before we could give them the carrier back, we had to remove the raccoon. The rabid raccoon.
The clinic director readied a syringe with tranquilizers and attached it to the end of a short pole. I donât remember how it was rigged exactlyâwhether he had a way to push down the plunger or if the needle would inject with pressureâbut all he would have to do was stick the animal to inject it. And so, after sending me and the women back to the other side of the room, he made his fist jab.
He missed the raccoon.
The sound that that animal made on being brushed by the pole can only be described as a roar. It was throaty and ragged and ungodly loud. It was not a sound that a raccoon should ever make. Iâm convinced it was a sound that a raccoon physically could not make.Â
It thrashed inside the carrier, sending it tipping from side to side. Its claws clattered against the walls. It bellowed that throaty, rasping sound again. It was absolutely frenzied, and I was genuinely scared that it would break loose from inside those plastic walls.Â
Somehow, the clinic director kept his calm, and as the raccoon jolted around inside the cat carrier, he moved in with the syringe again, and this time, he hit it. He emptied the syringe into its body and withdrew the pole.
And then we waited.
We waited for those awful screams, that horrible thrashing, to die down. As we did, the director loaded up another syringe with even more tranquilizer, and as the raccoon dropped off into unconsciousness, he stuck it a second time with the heavier dose. Even then, it growled at him and flailed a paw against the wall.
More waiting, this time to make sure the animal was truly down for the count.
Then, while wearing welderâs gloves, the director opened the door of the carrier and removed the raccoon. She was limp, bedraggled, and utterly emaciated, but she was still alive. We bagged up the cat carrier and gave it to the women again, advising them that now was a good time to leave. They heeded our warning.
I asked if I could come closer to see, and the clinic director pointed where I could stand. I pushed the mask up against my face and tried to breathe as little as possible.
He and his co-directorâwho I think he was grooming to be his successor, but the clinic actually went under later that yearâexamined the raccoon together. Donning a pair of nitrile gloves, he reached down and pulled up a handful, a literal fistful, of the raccoonâs skin and released it. It stayed pulled up.
Severe dehydration causes a phenomenon called âskin tentingâ. The skin loses its elasticity somewhat, and will be slow to return to its ânormalâ shape when manipulated. The clinic director estimated that it had been at least four or five days since the raccoon had had anything to eat or drink.Â
She was already on deathâs doorstep, but her rabies infection had driven her exhausted body to scream and lunge and bite.Â
Because, the scariest thing about rabies (if you ask me) is the way that it alters the behavior of those it infects to increase chances of spreading.Â
The prodromal stage? Nocturnal animals become diurnalâallowing them to potentially infect most hosts than if they remained nocturnal.Â
The excitative stage? The infected animal bites at the slightest provocation. Swallowing causes painful spasms, so they drool, coating their bodies in infectious matter. A drink could wash away the virus-charged saliva from their mouth and bodies, so the virus drives them to panic at the sight of water.
(The paralytic stage? By that point, the animal has probably spread its infection to new hosts, so the virus has no need for it any longer.)
Rabies is deadly. Rabies is dangerous. In all of recorded history, one person survived an infection after she became symptomatic, and so far we havenât been able to replicate that success. The Milwaukee Protocol hasnât saved anyone else. Just one person. And even then, she still had to struggle to gain back control of her body after all that nerve damage.
Please, please, take rabies seriously.
This has been a warning from your old pal Bear.
I knew how bad it was, but I had never read anything like the raccoon story.
I am not exaggerating when I say that is literally terrifying.
Y'all please read this. That is absolutely hideous. Thatâs literally like something from a horror movie.
Do not fuck around with wildlife. Or weird strays.
TFW Rabies education comes across your dash because some fuck up calls themselves Rabiosexual.

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Dimetrodon borealis walks along a dry riverbed, north-central Pangaea, 270 mya
(via Some old dinosaur art by Simon StÄlenhag - Album on Imgur)