I think one of the saddest things about the internet/instagram side hustle culture/late stage capitalism is that its convinced everyone they're supposed to be making money from their art and if they're not they are somehow a failure.
Creative expression is something you're just allowed to have, to do, to make yourself feel something, you can share it with other people if you want but it's only purpose is to exist
if you want to make money from your skills then fine but don't let it crush you
NEW STRETCH GOALS!
Help us add a new story by V. Chandrasekhar Rao (translated from Telugu), a full book of P.A. Uthaman's magical realist stories (translated from Malayalam), and a full book by Gautamiputra Kamble (translated from Marathi!)
Hallie pulled off her helmet and breathed deep. The terraforming hadn't failed; the planet was still lush and green and the oxygen levels were perfect.
But MartA27 had been abandoned decades before, left to slowly be reclaimed by the nature imposed upon it.
Hallie unclipped her device and began filming as she wandered through the remains of a theme park.
Robot cows rusted red. A video panel quietly stuttering "cheese" and "membrane" and "Wisconsin". A tattered robot in a red apron.
Hallie didn't understand it.
She documented it anyway.
My sister told me that my 15yo niece Indie was embroidering her own sneakers. “Cool,” I said, remembering how I used to doodle on mine. Then they sent me the photos. 🤯 They are STUNNING. Look at that. A TEENAGER DID THAT. 😍🐝🌸 #embroidery #embroidered #converse
Violet looked from the pair of hulking WRMs - war-robot-machines - to her group of nervous students.
"A little grease isn't going to kill any of you," she said firmly. The first time was always like this. Then they'd all learn that rolling up their sleeves and getting dirty was kinda fun.
"The barrel would if it landed on you," one student pointed out.
"That's why the gravity is on," another countered.
One girl finally stepped forward to take a handful of thick purple WRM-grease and headed for an ankle.
Violet grinned.
It was a good start.
Perseid Meteors over Stonehenge
Image Credit & Copyright: Josh Dury
I invite You to download free brochure (28 pages) with Lovecraftian inspirations from the real life history, science and religions: https://adeptus7.itch.io/lovecraftian-inspirations-from-real-life-and-beliefs . I wrote it with TTRPG in mind, but You can use them as You want in your video game, book, as You wish, for free.
#callofcthulhu #deltagreen #trailofcthulhu #cosmichorror
Tansy opened the envelope Gunnar had labeled "In the #event I don't return."
"Dearest Tansy," it began. "If you're reading this, it means I'm trapped & need extraction. Provision the sloop & head out before dawn. Aim for where the sun will rise--you must sail through its portal when it rests half on the water, half in the sky."
Tansy considered this. If Gunnar was trapped, she should take a different route. She'd come from the west, thru the sunset portal, & rescue him.
Bolton glared at the tablet in his hands. His sixth one in a month and the tech department was getting on him.
He didn't care.
He poked at the 'Event Type' dropdown menu and slowly scrolled for 'Individual Summoning'.
A pen and paper would be faster.
He couldn't even jab past the box asking for 'Entity Summoned'. He didn't know! He just had a circle and a partial human corpse!
Trying again, he accidentally activated the camera. Cursing, the shutter went off just as something moved-
-the tablet sizzled and went dark.
Time for number seven.
Caroline lives in the brick house at the end of the lane. It's not a big house, but big enough, and the curtains are always closed.
We all take turns bringing Caroline her schoolwork and picking up her completed essays and worksheets.
Her handwriting is better than mine and I like when it's my turn so I can see it.
But it's been seven years now and I've never seen Caroline. Not a one of us has ever seen Caroline.
Someone writes those essays in neat cursive.
Please tell me if you've seen Caroline.
Please tell me if she's real.
Please.
Please boost these photos of my beautiful cat Nala to help me federate my new instance! Thanks! 😀
She is 8 1/2 years old. I've had her for four years. Her fur colour is referred as "tortoise shell" or "tortie". A combination of black, brown, and white.
"What scent are you considering this evening?" Deana's maid, Angie, asked as she opened a shallow drawer to reveal dozens of little bottles within.
"I would like my presence to be known," Deana said firmly. "However, I do not wish for attention."
Angie reached for a bottle.
"Peony and indifference?"
"Not this time of year."
"Of course, milady. How about cranberry and doubt?"
"Perfect."
The bottles were quickly switched, scent was dabbed, and finally Deana was ready for a perfectly dull evening.
Angie would be waiting with pine and lust.
alright everyone the shop is back open and kobold hoards are live https://nora.jewelry/password
as always, boosts help me out! the supplies are limited for now but i plan to slowly build up inventory as i get my strength back.
The war was over and Howe had been given his medals and pay and been sent home to his wife and child.
He had made them up, some time after the first week, when all the others had been talking about husbands and wives and children and family.
Howe didn't even have a dog longing for his eventual return. He hadn't made one of those up, though he'd debated it.
Instead Howe had his drafty rented room, which thankfully hadn't been cleared of his meager belongings. With his pay, he could move, once he found somewhere...
Maybe he'd get a dog.
Hello! | こんにちは! FE/FF/SaGa/GBF. I'm here for mobage/video games, general geekery, writing, and whatnot.