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The Monster Manual but it's blatantly written by the monsters
mimc Mouth perfec t size for put baby in to n\ap! inside very Soft and Comfort baby sleep soundly put baby in Mimic Mouth. Put Baby In Mimic Mouth. no problems ever in mimmic mouth because good Shape and Support for baby neck weak of big baby head. Amimic Mouth yes a place for a baby put baby in mimic mouth can trust mimic for giveing good love to baby. friend mimic
Apparently a part of the reason why farmed bees stay in the beehives that humans build for them is because the farm hives are safer and sturdier. I don't know how a busy Discord server's worth of bugs that only have one brain cell each would logically conclude that the humans protect them from outside threats, illness and parasites, but if I understood right, the bees would be free to move away and build a new nest somewhere else any time they'd want, and they simply choose not to.
You know how in almost every culture, people have some concept of "if I sacrifice something that I made/grew/produced to the Gods, they will ward me and my harvest from evil"?
So, in a way, don't the bees willingly sacrifice a part of their harvest to an entity not only far greater than them, but nearly beyond their comprehension, in exchange for protection against natural forces wildly outside of their own control?
So tell me, beekeepers, what are you to your bees, if not a mildly eldritch God?
I don’t know about other cultures, but in English folklore, when a beekeeper dies someone has to go out and tell the bees.
Imagine you’re a neolithic hunter-gatherer, just hanging out, sacrificing stuff to your god, when a new god you’ve never met before shows up and tells you that your god is dead, it’s not your fault or anything, and maybe a new god will come along to take care of you, maybe not, it’s gonna be touch and go for a while
Apparently in medieval Europe they also whispered secrets to the bees.
So imagine the mildly eldritch God you worship talks to you and tells you secrets, but these secrets make no sense to you and are incomprehensible to understand or even know they are secrets. But your God does make vibrations at you, so thats probably a good thing right??
Also occasionally the Swarm decides there is not enough room in the Hive because the eldritch god didn't take the offering of Honey at their normal time. So enough of a Swarm builds up that the second queen is able to leave without decimating the first Swarm. They are all set to search out a new place that will likely not have your God anymore (but really that's not too much of a struggle, they have abandoned you, that's part of why you've left, even though the first Swarm still holds out hope for their return).
And then, the scouts find another Hive right next to the old Hive. Literally right next to it. So the Queen lands to inspect it and wow, it's a good deal. The area already has enough food to support 2 Hives, so it's a not problem to stay in the area now that they have the space, but...this wasn't here before.
And then you see God, they've come to help the Swarm move to the new Hive and take the offering from the old Hive. Truly this must have been their plan all along
In English folklore, you ALSO have to invite your bees to your wedding, and decorate their hive, and leave a slice of cake for them, and also bring your new spouse by to introduce them to the hive straightaway. Imagine your eldritch god doing THAT.
#these polite beekeepers are just modeling the behavior they would like to see from their own god maybe? #perhaps if we could sting God he would tell us secrets
My take on unicorns! I'd really love to make a mythical creature field guide someday, since the Spiderwick Field Guide is what inspired me to start drawing in the first place 🥰
Starting to think a cooler headcanon for Clark’s upbringing might just be that the entire town of Smallville collectively decided to just go with it and accept that Martha and John's kid has superpowers, but we don't talk about it.
Someone's tractor gets stuck and nothing can get it out? "Be a dear and run down to the Kents, would you? Ask for Clark?"
"Why Clark, we need a machine--"
"Run along now."
Or if he kicks too hard and the football vanishes into the upper stratosphere, no it didn't, we all collectively saw it land over there *vague hand movements*
Clark: *does anything beyond human limits*
Smallville citizen:
The Kent's found an abandoned baby in a cornfield? Well good for them they've been longing for a child for years
I swear that Kent boy was running faster than that train...welp none of my business
Jonathan! Your witch child busted my tractor!
these are small town Midwest farmers they ain't saying shit to FEDS
I was gonna say, Midwestern rules says as long as that boy is polite and respectful (of course he is), there's no reason to ask any questions.
Imagine the nosy bitch (there's always a nosy bitch) going, "Oh, he's their ADOPTED son" and the OUTRAGE. "Oh, is your daddy your step-daddy, Lauren?"
"How could you say that???"
"Because everyone knows you don't look a thing like your daddy, but you sure look like his cousin."
I also like how this can mirror Bruce; Batman only lets a small handful of people in on his hero identity, but most of Gotham has no idea who he is... meanwhile, more than half of Smallville knows about the Kent boy, and they just keep quiet around a few folks they don't trust
When Superman starts showing up on the news all of smallville collectively smile and go and congratulate the Kent’s “you know Martha I just knew that boy of your’s would grow ta some good,” they have a potluck whenever he wins some big fight and are all holding their breath when he get hurt, also every single person in smallville will curse out Lex Luther on a whim,
“Space tourism is finally common and you are returning from your first spacewalk. Your guide looks at you in disbelief as she realizes your suit was torn open the whole time”
Jack Sparrow from this post: “Hm. Let’s just keep that between us, savvy?”
Ever get cognitive whiplash going from one group of aliens to another? You’d think I’d be used to the variety since I’ve spent so much time bopping around the galaxy, but some things just catch you by surprise.
It was a simple difference. I’d been talking with my smallest crewmates while we walked into the space station, trying not to loom over anybody or step on a tentacle in close quarters. The hallway between our corner of the docks and the central concourse was a narrow one. Then Coals realized he’d left something on the ship, and Paint volunteered to go back with him to help find it, and Mimi took a side corridor off to the public bathrooms, with a comment about checking how the local mechanics handled sanitization fields.
It’s possible that he even meant that. As long as he didn’t steal any parts for our ship, I was more than happy to let the octopus alien’s bathroom time be his own business.
I was thinking that, still slouching a bit after waving goodbye to Paint, when I turned a corner and was suddenly the smallest person around.
I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.
It's right-handed
I am right-handed
There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly
I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.
There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.
I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.
A homo erectus made it
Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.
Who were you
A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?
Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?
Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?
Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?
Who were you?
What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?
What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.
Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?
Or has it always been divine?
Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?
Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.
The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.
Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?
I'm not religious.
But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine
I don't know what is.
This is the axe
My knuckle rests exactly in the triangular plane just above the orange intrusion, and my thumb on the plane with the white patches.
How many hands held it just like that?
How many generations was this passed down?
Were you lost? or did you fall into disuse when technology improved?
Do you still desire to be held?
This was the axe that made me ugly cry in the museum. It was created half a million years ago by either Erectus or Heidelburgensis, and was passed down from person to person, long enough that somehow a neanderthal picked it up, and passed it down to their family.
It has now felt 3 generations of human species hands, it's smooth but still sharp except where the very tip has been broken off, but it shows that this axe was loved and taken care of. And it is still being taken care of! It was used to teach archaic children to build, to carve meat, to break bones, and now it is being used to teach us about all those people who came before us and put their hands right where we put ours.
The fact that @gallusrostromegalus and I put our hands on the same place and felt the same rush of emotions only days apart is amazing, but its not new. People loved this axe, it belonged to their loved ones and it's full of all those emotions. And if there's anything to take away from humanity, new and old, it's that we love a good rock.
Hello! You and I never met, but I feel like we've held hands now, the same way that we held hands with everyone else who's held that axe, and I think that's lovely :)
snastries (snail pastries)
[ID: Art of snails with various food items on their backs instead of shells, divided up by rarity. They are labelled with each food as follows. "Common:" bread loaf, macaron, muffin top, cupcake, chocolate dollop, donut. "Uncommon:" pie slice, cinnamon roll, woopie pie, swiss roll. "Slugs:" (these don't have shells and instead just resemble each food) croissant, sus twist, bagette, éclair, churro. "Rare:" reverse sundae (with an upside down ice cream cone), wedding cake. Cupcake has sprinkles on the body, sus twist has two heads, and wedding cake is wearing a bow on its head, and the cake topper is two snails kissing. End ID.]
Behold: the wizard’s gift for the goblin wedding party
So I've seen the whole 'Math's Saddest Love Stories' (asymptotes that drift ever closer but never meet etc.), but I think we're missing the potential of Math's Funny Love Stories.
The couple whose destiny is an infinite cycle of breaking up and getting back together again:
Oscillating rapidly in and out of each other's life for a while before drifting apart in opposite directions:
Drifting ever closer, until you finally meet and go fuck that:
One who drifts slowly closer to the other, until they acutally meet and decide to make a very sharp turn in the other direction:
Whatever hellscape of contrived coincidences these series of infinite near misses are:
Who needs a new fanfic challenge?
I found a piece of onion skin that looks like a mermaid tail, and that feels like half a story idea about a fairytale where someone tries to call up fantasy creatures in the river. What would a tiny onion mermaid look like?
Saving the various tagsssss
Here she is, if anyone needs a visual. She’s small enough to fit in the birdbath.
(Which just brings up new ideas, of course. I’m sure she’d get along fine with the robins and turtledoves, but be an unholy terror for the crows when they arrive to wash their stole pizza crusts there.)
(Those are the onionskin mermaid’s pizza crusts now.)
