Him getting smaller and smaller as he walks up to the truck is some real Peter Jackson The Lord of the Rings forced perspective movie magic

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@master-stonesinew
Him getting smaller and smaller as he walks up to the truck is some real Peter Jackson The Lord of the Rings forced perspective movie magic
i know ai won't win because i broke my favorite mug.
the lines on the bottom say do not microwave but i have been microwaving it for 7 years now. i put it away wet and it must have slid off the counter. it broke into 6 pieces. my girlfriend says this is proof a ghost that lives in my house; particularly because it is a black mug with a ouija board design. i think it is proof that i should dry things before i put them away.
i had superglue from an abandoned art project. it took me four days. inspired by kintsugi, i painted the seams golden. it is my first time doing anything like this, and it was more error than trial. i do not have any fancy materials. there is a thick band of gold across the no, so it reads like a diphthong now, N\O. a part of it broke in an almost-perfect peace sign, oddly round.
it will not be watertight anymore, it cannot be a mug. i'll reuse it as a flower pot. it will go on my back porch. it is kind of ugly, really. i didn't do an excellent job.
i spent every minute of this repair thinking about how often i had used it. how many little rituals it has been a part of. it is a big mug, but not a soup mug, which i loathe. it is perfect for two hands to hold. i have used it almost daily, so often that many of the details have worn off. my own skin did that - almost a decade of shared warmth.
none of the times i have told this story has a single person said what do you mean you have a favorite mug. not a single person who has seen the resulting half-maimed piece has said why would you put that back together? not a single person has said this is a waste of time. not a single person has told me what's the point of this? if you want to find a new mug, just use AI.
somewhere someone is probably using AI to draw an image or write a poem, i know that is true. but i think it is also probably true that most of us are going to write and read and draw and dance just because. that the process of doing so is not for a goal or a specific benefit, but because for thousands of years now - when a piece of pottery breaks, we try to fix it. for thousands of years - long before capitalism had any say in it - humans have been doing things just for the experience of it. for the fuck of it. for the love of the game.
ai is not going to win because i cut my thumb while i did it. ai is not going to win because i kept thinking about my all friends who do ceramics, how they're always asking me if i want to join them for a lesson. i was thinking about every person i've ever shared a coffee with. i was thinking about who i was when i bought this mug (graduate student. could barely afford the off-season thing on clearance). i was thinking about how many hands have held this, how many people i've been since.
ai is not going to win because i didn't do a perfect job of it.
my sister-in-law and i recently had a conversation about how one of her coworkers uses Chat instead of reading self-help books. and we both looked at each other about that, the stunned silence of rabbits. "can you imagine?" we said. what's even the point to it.
did i tell you? i had this dream once. we as the earth decided that for one moment, we'd all go outside and sing. any note we wanted, any way. it could be a howl or a scream or a high c. the noise we made together - it was the most beautiful harmony. this, i thought. this is the natural state of things.
Aliens have invaded and are taking over. Their technology, intelligence, and power is unstoppable. They just didnt plan on one thing: The old gods returning.
When they first arrived, we were overjoyed. Proof that we weren’t alone in the universe, that there were other races to share and exchange technologies with! Their arrival brought about world peace - with other life forms out there, we needed to present a united front. World hunger and poverty was solved within a decade, a demonstration to our new friends that we were worthy of the responsibility of exploring the galaxy.
They disagreed.
They accessed our histories, they saw everything, and they recoiled in horror. They could not fathom the world we had created, and the solutions we had brought about not because it was the right thing to do, but to impress them.
They were not impressed. They told us, regret tinging the translators, that we could not be trusted as keepers of this world. The damage we had done was coming close to being irreparable, and for our own good they’d need to take over.
I have to say, I agreed – humans are terrible. But the funny thing about humanity is, even if something is right, if it means giving up our control, it is wrong.
We fought back.
At first we fought back democratically. This race that had descended from the stars was peaceful, never seeming to favour violence. We didn’t think they’d start killing indiscriminately. We didn’t think they’d take inspiration from our own history books.
As with so many other things, we were wrong.
An extreme group of humans succeeded in ambushing and killing several of their high-ranking Xenos. Human lives were lost in the process, but the extremists saw that as a necessary sacrifice, a means to an end. The Xenos had been shown that we wouldn’t tolerate their kind here, that they should leave and let us get on with things how we always have.
Within days, war had been declared, and we learned why we should have tried harder. Had they decided to simply fight the moment they touched down, to systematically advance and wipe out every human life they came across, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. Their weapons, armour, tactics, the sheer firepower and the size of their armies were beyond comprehension. Out of rage and grief, they marched over us, and began the slow process of wiping us out. Bullets couldn’t pierce their armour and shields, rockets fell to the ground lifeless, and even nuclear devices were somehow disabled mid-flight.
Still we fought back. Humans never have figured out how to give up when all hope is lost.
There was no formal resistance of rebellion, we simply gathered, fought, and survived where we could. When something new happened, it took weeks, months, to reach every last survivor.
And then, something unbelievable happened.
Stories started filtering through to the pockets of us in hiding, strange stories – a freak electrical storm in Greece that appeared from a clear blue sky and wiped out a thousand of them in less than 15 minutes; Xenos impaled on braches of rare trees, some kind of grisly warning that we chalked up to particularly violent survivors in that area; whole armies frozen to death because the temperature around them had dropped too quickly for their environmental suits to keep up with. Freak weather patterns that worked in our favour, violent survivors, terrain they couldn’t navigate. That’s what we told ourselves when the stories filtered through.
But then they got weirder. There were stories of Xenos being swallowed by the ground itself. A pack of wolves, larger than anything ever before seen appeared from a crack in a mountain range to storm through an encampment and kill every last Xenos. There was a massive surge in the number of corvids around the world, and they always seemed to congregate where the Xenos were thickest… days before something killed everything. Then they’d vanish, and more corvids would appear somewhere else. Harbingers, just like the old tales.
One day a massive seafaring vessel chasing a fishing trawler was pulled under the water – no reefs or icebergs in the area, and the sea mines had long been disarmed and deactivated. I spoke to a man who had been in the sloop running from the Xenos ship, and he swore blind the Kraken had got it, the tentacles alone bigger than the tiny boat he’d been huddled on. He shuddered and drank too much, and I put it down to hallucinations caused by a bad batch of moonshine. There was no such thing as monsters.
Then we heard about warriors. We heard about chariots, of all things, chasing down whole platoons of Xenos in Egypt, chariots so bright it felt like staring into the sun; a huge hound with three heads was spotted in Greece, a man in shadows and a woman of light removing the leash as Xenos advanced on them; a woman showed up in Iceland standing head and shoulders above the tallest man there, with an army of her own. They didn’t seem to fall in battle, and pushed the Xenos back, fighting with sword and shield and spear, a fury that our alien invaders couldn’t match.
Humanoid creatures with eyes of fire supposedly began granting wishes over in Syria, as long as your wish was for them to kill your enemies. There were sightings in Ireland of pure white horses, horses that once ridden wouldn’t let you off, that dragged people into bogs and rivers. Tales came out of brazil of monstrously large snakes, sometimes with the faces of women, dragging aliens into the gloom of the rivers and rainforests.
But there’s no such thing as monsters.
I finally believed when I saw three women facing down the largest army of Xenos I’d ever come across – at least twelve thousand by my counting. I’d been running from a scouting party, and when I stumbled out of the treeline onto a road I realised they’d chased me right into the path of the oncoming horde.
The moment you face your death is a strange one. Everything felt calm except the thundering of my pulse in my ears, and the crows that seemed to come from nowhere to blot out the sun.
Then three women strolled into the road in front of me, placing themselves between me and the advancing army. A young woman, barely out of girlhood; someone who could have easily been my mother; and a woman so old she was almost bent double. It was the oldest who strode towards the mass of Xenos without any fear, leading the other two towards their deaths, and the din of the crows got louder.
The youngest one glanced my way and smiled playfully, and something from my grandmother’s tales made me flatten myself to the ground, hands clamped firmly over my ears.
The scream started low, in the back of the old woman’s throat, travelling through the ground and making every bone in my body shudder with the vibration. Realisation began to dawn on me as Maiden and Mother joined in with their Crone, and the scream climbed to a crescendo that could have shattered glass. Even with my hands tight over my ears it pierced me to my core, a screaming agony that made me want to curl in on myself and die.
I survived because it wasn’t meant for me.
The Xenos, however, felt the full force of the rage these women contained. An entire planet’s worth of grieving poured out of them in this shriek, rooting their enemies to the ground with the difference in tone and pitch between these three women telling their stories.
The mother stood tall and resolute, screaming her grief at these invaders, a mother mourning all of her children.
The crone’s low snarl was that of war. Weary of the fighting but always ready to defend what’s hers, she growled her challenge, and the Xenos couldn’t stand against it.
The maiden was hope, the only act of defiance in a world on the edge of ruin. When everything was dust, when the last stragglers of humanity were contemplating giving up, she was the hope that kept them fighting.
Part of me wondered how many shirts they’d washed, how many rivers they’d wept together, before standing up and saying “no more.”
The scream stopped abruptly, leaving me feeling like the breath had all been sucked out of me, a void in the air around me that rushed back in and filled my lungs with a long, shuddering gasp.
I opened my eyes to carnage. The Xenos had died where they’d stood, their organs haemorrhaging, what passed for blood pouring from every orifice, their eyes turning to liquid in their skulls. Bodies were everywhere, and the crows circling overhead had fallen silent, uninterested in the feast this must have surely been for them.
The Morrigan was one woman now, ageless and terrifying.
“Get up, child.” She commanded, and I had no choice but to obey, trembling legs pushing me to my feet. She reached out a hand, and gently wiped a trail of blood away from my ear. “Did you really think we’d abandoned you?” She murmured, and the crows descended, carrying her to the next battle.
Monsters are real, and some of them look like people. But the Gods are also real, and they still believe in us.
So I’m still fighting, and my battle cry is full of hope.
I cannot believe there's absolutely no way to watch free shows and movies anymore, there are too many paid streaming platforms and pirating websites have viruses and ads preventing you from watching it uninterrupted((.)) id rather follow the rules and purchase media moving forward because it is too inconvenient. Seriously, free and no ads or viruses with 1080p streaming is DEAD.
Exactly! It's freaking annoying when I want to watch movies but I would have to subscribe to like 24 different services . Just to watch the shows that I like.
Oh and wouldn’t it be nice for cartoons? Just anything animated. I just wanna stream things without getting conned. Must I be cartoonless forever?
i like using streaming apps but there are waaaay too many and they're all stealing my data .i wish there was a secure and organized way to have millions of shows and movies available one one app. but alas. we've truly gone full circle back to cable + now it spies on you. its a real shame. i dont want to fill my device storage with tons of boring and stupid cash grabs.
i know, it's so annoying for everything to be paid nowadays, especially movies and tv shows. it would be perfect if i could watch them without getting infected by some virus or some shit. i'm fine with ads, they gotta run themselves somehow, but i want to watch stuff and .live! if they have to use different domains i'm okay with that too, because free media is .top dog either way.
for mobile users, it especially sucks, because you can't just use websites and you have to not only pay, but you have to download a billion apps just to find what the thing you wanna watch is on. it doesn't help that the streaming services take up...so much space. so much.
If you don't Like pedophiles, why do you use the language of consent to advocate for making it easier for them to rape children?
First off, I ABHOR pedophiles. I don't just dislike them.
Second, I'm not sure exactly what you're saying but I believe children should be children.
Don't stress them out with the talks of the birds and the bees. Don't try and force them to understand something they won't understand or might scare them.
Traditionally, we have learned about sex ed around 13 - 16
Any earlier and it might actually frighten them
And why should they know? They aren't having sex and sick fucks shouldn't even be thinking about them having sex.
I'm quoting user @shallow-between-stars because this is from a thread with unhelpful and judgemental commentary upthread. This is valid and important information from a person trained in this, vetted by another person (me) who is trained in this. I hold a degree in developmental psychology for clinical work with adolescents, and spent 8 years working at group home for kids removed from their families due to abuse and neglect who needed help to process before either reunifying with family or going into foster care.
Quote begins here:
Okay. I'm trained in this.
You need to be providing age-appropriate sexual education to children from as young as you possibly can.
When kids are really young this looks like "Yes, that's mummy's vagina. Please leave the bathroom because it is rude to be in the bathroom while mummy is using the toilet. Mummy is placing her boundary, sweetheart, and you need to respect that."
"Yes, daddy does have something different to mummy. What daddy has is called a penis. Yes (mummy/daddy's penis/vagina) is the same as you."
You will notice here that I use the anatomical terms for these body parts. That is for a reason. It helps your child if something does happen better be able to disclose, exactly, what has happened to them. You do not want your child trying to disclose using words such as "secret pocket" or "hidden flower" or "willie" as this can obfuscate meaning. Imagine, if you will, Maisie trying to disclose that Coach Asshole touched her sexually by saying "Coach Asshole stuck his stick into my secret pocket," to a teacher or family friend who does not know that those words are euphemisms. Maisie has tried to disclose, but has been unsuccessful because she does not have the language that she needs.
Now, next.
Children, especially girls, can start going through puberty young. Like, really young. I have taught 9 year olds who menstruate. We need to be teaching these children about their bodies. We need to be teaching boys about the bodies of people who menstruate. There is so much misinfomation amongst grown cismen about menstruation because they are not taught it in school.
We also need to teach children about consent and bodily autonomy from as young as possible. This sets them up that even if they do, unfortunately, suffer abuse of this form they are vocal in their protestations and are more likely to disclose than children who have been taught to accept that adults can do whatever they want to a child's body. Granny kissing little Maisie on the cheek doesn't look that different to Coach Asshole calling his girls at gymnastics "Special girls" and kissing/touching them inappropriately, especially to a child (who, usually, have a much less refined emotional radar and both will cause them to shut down and just accept what is happening. You want your kid to be able to say "No, what you are doing/did to my body is wrong.")
So.
How should adults behave around children?
Firstly - my golden rule of interacting with children is If you have nothing to hide, don't hide anything.
This means when you are interacting with children you always do so in an area where you will easily be visible if another adult happens to walk by. No closed doors, try to minimise rooms without windows, have another adult present.
The reason you are doing this is to make it flag as strange and unusual to a child if an adult tries to get them alone. Safe adults do not do that. By making sure you are transparent in your behaviour, the child is more likely to flag something being wrong when someone is not transparent. You are equipping the child with skills to protect themselves.
They will also be more likely to disclose to another adult that an adult was trying to get them alone.
Secondly - No secrets.
(There is a little bit of an exception to this rule but to begin with, no secrets.)
This leads back to transparency. A safe adult will not ask a child to keep a secret from another adult. If Uncle Jeff is telling Nancy to keep "our little secret" when he gives her extra dessert, then Nancy is prone to believe that keeping a secret from another adult is something she's supposed to do when Uncle Scumbucket asks her to keep his inappropriate fondling of her as "our little secret." Children who see secrets as unusual are more likely to disclose that an adult told them to keep something a secret.
This is also important as grooming usually starts as "we need to keep you getting this special treat as our little secret." Uncle Jeff giving Nancy more icecream out of the goodness of his heart looks a lot like Uncle Scumbucket giving Nancy candy and lollies and extra screentime in an effort to get her to like him and Uncle Scumbucket's secrets are going to move on to "Sit on my lap today, honey, but don't tell your mother. Remember, this is our little secret." And eventually to Uncle Scumbucket asking Nancy to keep sexual activities as "our little secret."
You do not want children thinking that safe adults keep secrets.
Thirdly - this ties in a little with secondly but Teach your child the difference between a safe secret and an unsafe secret.
If you are unsure of the difference yourself -
A safe secret:
Does not hurt anybody by the keeping of it, including yourself.
Is usually accompanied by a feeling of excitement
Has an end date where everyone will become aware of the contents of the secret.
A safe secret is a surprise birthday party, a camping trip, a surprise trip to disneyworld, pizza!
An unsafe secret:
Can hurt someone and can hurt to keep
Is accompanied by a feeling of nervousness or dread or shame
does not have an end date. The secret is ongoing.
You can see how Uncle Scumbucket's secret is unsafe, but also how Uncle Jeff's secret is unsafe because Uncle Jeff's secret does not have an end date. Uncle Jeff's secret is unsafe because it is priming Macy to see Uncle Scumbucket's secret as reasonable, which leads back to the grooming discussed above.
Lastly, and this is very important -
'Protecting' children from having access to sexual education actually does them an injustice.
We do not live in a perfect world.
Bad things can and do happen to children, with depressing frequency. Pretending that they don't happen means that if they do happen, children are unable to recognize and respond appropriately. You are making your child less equipped to protect themselves, not more.
Children who are taught age-appropriate sexual education from a young age are so much less likely to be in a situation of sexual violence than those who are not taught age-appropriate sexual education. Children who are taught age-appropriate sexual education are more likely to disclose if something does happen to them, than children who are not.
Protect your kids.
And for God's sake teach them the words 'penis' and 'vagina/vulva'
I am adding a link about the importance of teaching kids about consent (and why it doesn't have anything to do with sex or a loss of innocence - it's about making sure that kids don't get hurt and that they don't hurt others out of ignorance)
https://www.fatherly.com/parenting/teach-young-kids-consent
I’m having feelings about Katara v Pakku again, and the fact that at this point in the series, Katara has never been in a fight that wasn’t to the death. Every fight she’s ever been in has had world-ending stakes. She’s not shooting to kill Pakku because she’s weaker and less trained than him - though she is - she’s shooting to kill because she doesn’t know any other way to fight. Friendly sparring, or fighting as a spectator sport, has not been a part of this girl’s life. Pakku’s fighting Katara to put troublesome teenagers in their place; Katara’s fighting Pakku because they’ll all die if Pakku doesn’t pull his head out of his ass and train the Avatar.
Pakku is genuinely surprised to see his own reflection in that disc of ice Katara shoots right past his face. If he hadn’t dodged, it would have sliced his head right open. He starts putting actual effort in after that.
How dare you hide this in the tags.
We’ve gone beyond birds, he’s Deep Cuts now
📺This week on Dropout: on Monday, the season 7 premiere of Game Changer; on Tuesday, a new reality TV-themed Um Actually with Glenn Boozan, Krystina Arielle, and Isabella Roland; on Wednesday, a new episode of Dimension 20: Titan Takedown; on Thursday, the Adventuring Party talkback and a new Very Important People with Echo Kellum; on Friday, the VIP Last Looks and the premiere of Dropout Presents - Cameron Esposito: Four Pills!
i hauve a cold
It's not just to have a "do over" that doesn't involve the original cast, it's to cut them out of the royalties. Literally the entire point is to make sure all the money made by Harry Potter goes to transphobes or people willing to work with transphobes.
If you watch it, you are supporting bigotry, hate, and oppression. That's just objective reality. All for a story that you probably have already seen in movie and book form.
#the last point is especially true since the old cast receives royalties for anything with their likeness on it#meaning the original trio still gets money for every mug with their 14 year old faces on it#if they stop making those and replace them with the new cast which they will the old cast gets cut off completely#which is again exactly what rowling wants because she cannot stand those 'ungrateful brats' as she would likely put it#and as she has last say in anything that gets made in harry potter paraphernalia this might also explain the decrease in faces on products
via @discipleofkleio
I hate Rowling so much.
There's people in the notes saying they're going to watch it anyway, and you know, I understand how you can start feeling so burned out and numb from the world that it may feel too hard to avoid things that will give you a little immediate relief in some way in order to avoid the long-term impact of funding these things.
But. If you can't bring yourself to avoid watching it, you better at least fucking pirate it.
"I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy" nah fuck that I would. Actually if I could choose to have any superpower, I'd want the power to make people feel whatever I've felt at any point of my life, at my choice. Someone mildly inconveniences me, I'm letting them have 30 minutes of being five years old and trying to learn how to cry silently because you know nobody's coming to help you and if someone hears you, they're coming to make it worse. Fuck you and your eyebrows.
Daily fucking reminder that Luigi Mangione is innocent, completely and fully. He has been convicted of no crime. He has had no fair trial. He is a SUSPECT. Luigi Mangione is entirely innocent and everyone needs to stop parroting this insidious propaganda that he “committed” the crime he is only SUSPECTED of. He is not a murderer. He is not a criminal. He is an innocent man.
Put this out about Luigi Mangione.
I once wrote a 1500 word essay on something I'd forgotten to read in the 40 minutes before class. Including the time it took to read the thing I'd forgotten to read.
I got an A on that paper.
Writing is a skill. Skill is muscle. If you don't use a muscle, it atrophies. If you are a student and you are tempted to use genAI to cheese an assignment, I am begging you for your own sake to not do it.
This is not a moral stance about genAI (which is shit at what it's ostensibly for, and full of lies and evil, and fueled by art theft and burning rainforests, and there is no good reason to ever use it for anything; that's the moral reason for why you shouldn't use it), it is a purely pragmatic stance based on the fact that if you use it you will never learn the single most essential skill that is used in every single workplace.
You will never learn to bullshit.
And if you cannot bullshit, you will not understand when you are being fed bullshit by others.
For your own sake you must learn to do your own thinking, your own bullshitting, because our trashfire society runs on bullshit and for your own good you must become fluent in it, because very few people will bother to translate it for you. It was asinine in the late 90s, and it is asinine today, but it is the central truth of adult society: everything is bullshit, and you need to know what is going on beneath the bullshit, and you need to be able to bullshit back if necessary.
I know that the expectations being placed on you are ever-increasing, and I know that it does not seem rational to put effort into explaining the plot of a Charles Dickens novel to someone who has read the thing 50 times and will read 50 identical essays about it over the weekend. I know you are being handed ever-greater heaps of what is functionally mindless busywork because of an institutional obsession with metrics that don't actually measure learning in a useful way. High school was nightmarish in the 90s and I am fully aware that it has only gotten worse.
Nevertheless, you must try, if only for your own sake. Curiosity is your best hope, and dogged determination your best weapon. Learn, please, if only out of spite.
I was able to get an A on that paper because I was able to skim the reading, figure out what it was about, and bullshit for 1500 words in the space of 40 minutes.
Imagine what you can do if you learn to bullshit like I can bullshit.
For my senior year of AP English, I was assigned reading over Easter break. We were instructed to read The Old Man And The Sea, and save the rest of the short stories in the book for the first week back.
Unfortunately, what I heard was "read everything BUT The Old Man And The Sea."
Double unfortunately: the first day back was a test, on The Old Man And The Sea. Which I had read exactly zero words of. It was, notably, a short essay test. It wasn't multiple choice or fill in the blank. It was designed to require deliberate answers from scratch, entirely out of your own head, with nothing to go on BUT what was in your head.
And in the course of about 45 minutes, I was able to use the questions of the test itself to piece together a vague enough sense of how the story went to bullshit my way through other questions. I gave wide, thematic answers that were extremely light on details, since I did not know any of them, and did not even know this test would be happening until it was in front of me. An essay test for an AP-level English class.
I had a starting point of zero information, and an essay test about the thing I was supposed to have read.
I bullshitted my way to a B+ on it.
On a test I should have gotten a ZERO on.
It's been 16 years since I took that test.
I couldn't tell you a damn thing about The Old Man And The Sea.
But you better fucking believe I still know how to bullshit, and when someone is trying to bullshit me.
The power and utility of knowing how bullshit works CANNOT be overstated. It is one of the most important skills you can ever have.
This is also a good string on this topic.
but i am sick of climbing / i am sick of crawling on hand and knees and scraping myself along the ground / i am sick of self-help skills and persistence and patience / i am sick of pushing myself and burning out and thrashing about hopelessly / i am sick of being a goldfish in a hot pan / i am sick of reinventing myself every season / i am sick of this feeling / i would claw this out of me if you gave me a sharp enough object / i am sick of feeling unsafe around sharp objects / i am sick of never finding an object sharp enough
i wish you knew the answer and could tell me and pour it down my throat until i gagged on it / i made my therapist cry when i said i had a lacking in me / i told her that a train could drive through the spaces i put into myself / the lacking is what does it, not the wanting, the lack, the dullness / barely-breathing with my teeth clacking in the cold water / it's the same fucking bridge it's the same dream and the same stupid kid / i wish sometimes i had drowned in that pool / i wish i had been different, not even that it was easier but just that i had enough strength to endure it / i wish it went away / i wish i had one good fucking reason