respit

وَمَنْ يَسَّرَ عَلَى مُعْسِرٍ يَسَّرَ اللَّهُ عَليهِ في الدُنيَا وَالآخِرَةِ
Whoever grants respite to (a debtor) who is in difficulty, Allah will grant him relief in this world and in the Hereafter
—  The Messenger of Allah | Narrated by Muslim (2699)
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Gintama manga chap 628

Dear Gintama gods and Sorachi-sama,

The storm that is brewing must a pretty fearsome one if you are giving us some laughter and maybe even some lovin’ during this momentary calm. I was really expecting the Yato to attack while everyone was trying to enjoy their brief respite, but it looks like they might have more nefarious intentions than that. I guess they realized their ground troops are not enough and it is time to reconnect with their reinforcements in space. I want to think that Elizabeth Dragonia and the others have been able to successfully vanquish the remaining Liberation Army forces in the air, but with this kind of build-up, that would be too anti-climactic a resolution, so I worry that now you have something more devastating in store. I’m already imagining our allied forces in shambles and Sakamoto, Zura, Eli Dragonia, etc in escape pods, floating hopelessly and helplessly in space as they await rescue. I’m sorry that I keep on thinking of doom and gloom scenarios—first it was Jirochon’s death, then all 3 original Devas’ deaths, and now the decimation of the pro-Earth forces—but I can’t help it; while the Earth battle so far was tough, there wasn’t much of a price paid. I know Kyuu-chan was hurt and still hasn’t regained consciousness, but since no one directly addressed her condition as being critical, I can only assume she is not in any mortal danger. I would think that if she is at death’s door, Tae-chan would be by her side as well.  

And sure, our Yorozuya are tired as hell (I do wish Kagura and Shin-chan had stayed awake for just a few tiny seconds more; Gin-chan’s words were so sweet), and a number of nameless and rankless characters are injured or dead, but considering the odds they were fighting against, everyone escaped the crisis relatively unscathed. Our Shinsengumi boys look like they hardly even broke a sweat (although, Yamazaki, Saitou and Tetsu are still nowhere to be seen…does Yamazaki even know Tama is shut down??).  Same goes for the Oniwabanshuu. Things look relatively fine. Too fine. I guess that’s why I’m waiting for another, heavier hammer to drop. I know Utsuro is also still out there somewhere, but his hammer is a more personal and contained force, affecting only a handful of people. If this is the last great battle involving everyone that we’ve ever met in town, the hammer that comes down on them should be nothing short of cataclysmal, capable of taking the lives of characters we actually care about. The resulting force should cause all of us Ginta fans to weep our hearts out.

Although, truth be told, I did come close to crying during this chapter when you didn’t even let Gintoki and Hijikata exchange one single word even though they were finally within each others’ vicinity.  And now Tsukuyo is drunk again and will probably do whatever she wants to Gintoki, who will probably let her, and they will be officially canon and my personal OTP will be forever ended, yet they didn’t even get to exchange ONE SINGLE word or even ONE SINGLE look. Ohhhh, Sorachi-sama, you are so cruel sometimes. Couldn’t you have thrown me a tiny piece of cartilage? I don’t even dare to ask for a bone. Why couldn’t Hijikata have offered to butt into Gintoki’s straight man? Sure, the exchange was more in character for Kondou but I wouldn’t have cared. I would have been too happy to care about the logic.  Just a little something, Sorachi-sama. That’s all I wanted. I. AM. SADNESS.

I mean, I guess there might still be a teeny tiny chance that nothing will happen between Gin-chan and Tsukky, and that was all just a fruitless tease since he did seem to be sweat-dropping like he was freaked out, but since my motives for thinking that aren’t coming from an altruistic place at all, I rather not hold my breath on that measly shred of hope. If it is really all over for my GinHiji dreams, which I’m guessing I’ll find out by next week, then could you at least let Okita and Kagura or Kondou and Tae-chan share a real moment together? While that won’t completely heal the bloody gaping hole in my sad shippy heart (in fact, nothing will, since GinHiji has been the #1 OTP love of my life so far, and I know I have no one else to blame but myself for that), it will definitely help ease the pain just a little bit.

Putting my mourning aside, I must say it was a thrill seeing all the different factions of Edo and Kabuki-chou coming together at that pow-wow in the beginning. I only wish their conference lasted longer, especially since that’s the first time such a monumental gathering of critical players has ever occurred. As much as I enjoyed the antics of Gin-chan and his Heva-unit, I almost wished that could have been kept as a surprise, to be revealed later on as a trump card of sorts should the battle continue. I hope this won’t be the last time we see the Shinsengumi, Oniwabanshuu, Kabukichou Four Devas, Yagyuu, Hyakka, Onmyoujis, and of course our beloved Yorozuya. In fact, I hope the next time we see such a remarkable assembly, that a few more groups would be included as well, such as the Jouishishi, Kiheitai, Kaientai, and perhaps even the Harusame, Renhos, and Oukokus.  And of course, hopefully their meeting would last much longer…perhaps chapters long instead of only frames.

Yours truly,

A silly fangirl with yaoi dreams

(^3^)

me: compulsively refreshing my dash at the speed of light because it’s the only respite i have from the gaping void called anxiety that i am currently hurtling towards at mach one

funnily enough there is a huge correlation between gay peoples general dissatisfaction with life (due to homophobia, mental illness, economic troubles, past abuse / trauma, etc) and their only respite being their partners. and to act like the prevalence of “codependence” in gay communities has no connection with structural issues that pervade gay peoples lives is fucked up to say the least ! you can criticize “ill die without you” rhetoric without ignoring the 1. reciprocity of those feelings and 2. very reasonable and systemic influences on those feelings

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Celebrate Wildlife Wednesday with Elephant Seals from California’s Piedras Blancas! 

The Piedras Blancas Light Station is a historic landmark on California’s central coast. Located on a rugged windswept point of land 6 miles north of Hearst Castle along California’s scenic Highway One, the Lighthouse was first illuminated in 1875, and today beckons the visitor a respite from the modern world.

The Light Station is named for the distinctive white rocks that loom just offshore. These rocks, and the rugged shoreline, are home to seabirds, sea lions, and elephant seals. Over 70 native plant species can be found on the 19 acres surrounding the Light Station.

The beaches stretching north and south from the Lighthouse have a large breeding colony of elephant seals.    

Photos and video footage by Bob Wick, BLM. Video created by John Ciccarelli, BLM.

Lego Island is the only respite from my failing home life and relationships. I want to live on the lego island. i want to be in the CD ROM

The Dungeon Clock

So, here it is.

The Dungeon Clock starts at 0. Every two turns you check for random encounters: roll a d12, and if the result is less than or equal to the number on the Dungeon Clock, a random encounter happens and the clock resets to 0. If the result is higher than the number on the Dungeon Clock, there’s no random encounter and the Dungeon Clock ticks forward by 1.

Here’s the thing: you always check for random encounters before ticking the clock forward. This might feel nonsensical, since the clock starts at 0, but there’s a method to this madness. It means that if the group has just had a random encounter there will be at least a short stretch of time between their last random encounter and the last, so your group has at least some respite between encounters.

Ultimately though it means that at some point the characters are guaranteed to have an encounter, no matter what they do.

Some further thoughts:

  • You might want to tie the ticking of the clock to the actions taken by the group in some way. Moving around stealthily and not dallying might stop the clock from ticking forward altogether. Making a lot of noise might trigger a check for a random encounter out of turn: in this case, check for random encounters as normal and if no such encounter happens tick the clock forward as normal.
  • How do preset encounters in the dungeon interact with the Dungeon Clock? You might choose to reset the Dungeon Clock after any encounter, even ones that were not triggered by a random encounter check, or you might not. I’m personally unsure which would be the better approach. Playtesting is needed.
  • Under this system, in comparison to the normal Basic D&D method, there’s a lesser chance of a random encounter during turns 2 and 4. By turn 6 in the dungeon the chance is just the same as in Basic D&D, after which it will begin to increase in increments of 1/12.
  • Going back to the idea of tying the clock into actions taken by the players, the clock might be best used in a situation where you want to give the players a feeling of tension, like when they are trying to sneak around undetected. A random encounter does not immediately mean combat: just because monsters are encountered does not mean they immediately notice the characters, meaning they have a last chance at evasion. Since a random encounter was rolled anyway, the clock will reset to 0 if the characters manage to evade the encounter.
  • You should probably use some physical representation to keep track of the Dungeon Clock. Hey, a d12 has numbers from 1 to 12!
SAMURAI JACK S5E01 OBSERVATIONS [SPOILERS]
  • Jack’s battle is more psychological than anything else. The things the world throws at him are mere nuts and bolts compared to his internal struggle.
  • Jack really loves his parents so much and their image haunts him because he thinks he failed them due to not being able to go back to the past.
  • Jack has signs of PTSD. 50 years took a toll on his mental health more than anything. He sees his parents and his village EVERYWHERE.
  • HE HAS NO RESPITE FROM THIS
  • HE NEEDS A HUG GODDAMMIT
  • The Daughters of Aku are septuplets. They’re apparently all from the same mother, and I don’t know how the hell did she survive childbirth and still be walking and talking afterwards.
  • Ashi is the only named Daughter of Aku so far. She’s the one in the middle during that shot where they’re running towards the camera. I *KNEW* she had more significance than the others. She used to be the weakest but emerged the strongest at the end of training.
  • Apparently, the Daughters are conditioned to believe that Aku created everything that is good on Earth, and Jack is the one destroying it, and they were also subjected to training from hell, which includes little Ashi getting slapped for making a wrong move, and getting beat up by a hugeass cultist because of looking outside.
  • ASHI ALSO NEEDS A HUG BECAUSE OF ABUSIVE PARENTING
Sunday Respite - A Barbarian’s Sunday Best

The wild calls.

The cuts you make in life, scar through into death. So you can name me a historian of wounds. I carve my history with steel and saber; tooth and claw; rage and fury. Do not look up to my stature with reverence. I am no shelter from the storm. I am no fortress from the battle. I am no redeemer from hell.

I am the storm. I am the battle. I am hell.

The Barbarian is a force of nature. They follow noone, and expect noone to follow in return. So what better for this creed of conqueror than the sturdiest of steels, toughest of hides, and sharpest of blades? 

Victory. Nothing else.

Blood-Feast Mask

Bare wood. Unpolished. Unclean. It is painted with white decorations; stripes, dots, and shapes. Holes have been carved for eyes, a crooked smile is painted beneath with spiny teeth. Secured around the head with a leather knot, the mask is flat and crude, not beautiful nor fine. When the wearer of this mask spills blood - of fellow or foe - they find themselves helplessly compelled to wipe the life-water across the face of the mask itself, smearing it across its front like a painter’s canvass. Resultantly, the smile animates and begins laughing with the wearer’s voice, twisted into an insane cackle. The wearer becomes deafened to any noises other than their own in a focused rage. They find that the manner to cause wounds comes easier to them, and that their own injuries in-turn are numb and petty in comparison.

Grips of the Golem

These gauntlets are made of rough granite, coarse as grit. They are cold to wear, offering no insulation from winter winds, and the skin is often run raw atop the knuckles and joints. However, the wearer finds that their hands are offered the same dexterous maneuverability as if they were naked skin. Not only that, but if they set their intentions to it, she can assure her grip as tightly as if it was solid rock, squeezing a weapon with unyielding security, or clenching flesh til the bones snap and the muscles are mangled.

Draegas Sabre

This curved cutlass hums as it cuts through the air, ringing like a struck tuning fork. It’s pommel guard is decorated to resemble a swan’s neck and head, crafted from twisted platinum, its wings curved over to cover the wrist from glancing cuts. When the wielder of this weapon is more than a moments run from any ally, they find their feet move with swiftness and efficiency, and their parries always meet danger and pass it away from your weaknesses, keeping you safe with an innate motion.

Ragehide

Ragged, torn, scarred, scratched, cut, sliced, diced, blunted, misshaped, malformed. broken, twisted. A patchwork quilt of scraps and strips of fur from beasts between opposing coasts, fourteen weeks apart. Scales from a basilisk amidst the jagged mountains, ivory flight-feathers from the wings of a royal griffon, the patched hide from an ancient cave bear, as large as a house, old as a church, tough as a castle. These were as much trophies as they were warnings. For amongst the skin and fur, were scraps of uniforms and flags. Soldiers bested, mercenaries fell, organisations toppled. When she lets the fury overtake her, when she shakes all attempts to contain the rage, she flies into a feral rampage. And once the dust has settled, she must add to her armour. Hundreds of teeth, dozens of hides, tens of coloured cloths, a string of ears, a crown, and a ring.

Hundred Head’s Fang

This lancing spear has a shaft as white as bone; light and strong. Its savage head is that of a single, needle-sharp fang, strapped to the top with leather ties and string. A foot-long fang from the mouth of the legendary Hundred-Heads Hydra, a trophy for any hunter. It still drips with the toxin that it once bit with, and even through death, it bites once more.

Enjoy

Pixie x

20/11/16

at night: sleep is for the weak

in the morning: my body is slowly withering to dust. i cannot function. there is no respite from the hell of sleep deprivation. i shall spend the rest of my days an empty, hollow, corpse, doomed to muddle through life chasing the fleeting promise of a decent night’s sleep.

at night: sleep is for—

Sunday Respite - Symbols of Good Faith

So, I have been working on something; something Dungeon-y and Dragon-y. 

When I leave my hometown this autumn and trek-on down south for a stint at university I plan to join some like-minded folk and roll some dice. Therefore, I have began creating an entirely new campaign in an entirely new setting, and it is something I am vigourously enthused about. As a side-effect, I’ve began to just make stuff for this game, most of it remains unused, but the stuff that I like I will throw on here. Nothing but the best for you lovelies.

So today, I offer my wares unto you faithful folk, children of the Gods, the pure and righteous. Whether you need divine implements to amplify your strength, holy weapons to smite and cleanse, or a fanciful trinket or gizmo which whispers to you as you sleep, bleeds when clenched in your palm, and softly tempts you to kill; I have it.

I’d tell you all to please don’t steal … but … you know … that Paladin over there has a very sharp sword that speaks for itself.

Blind Guidance of Otag the Blackeye

This is a length of narrow, purple cloth gilded with dozens of small black decorations of open eyes stitched onto it. When this cloths is wrapped around the head, covering the eyes entirely, she who adorns it, although wholly blinded by darkness regardless of magical sights such as blindsense, find those rare moments of critical accuracy are a thunderous force to behold, with even the most timid of narrow blades cleaving flesh and bone like bread and butter b’neath a guillotine.

Shortsleep Standard

This foot-high statuette of a God’s holy symbol has a half-foot long spike underneath. It emanates calm, trust, and induces a healthy, comfortable sleep to nearby folk. If planted as the centerpiece of a camp, those who shelter nearby sleep well with steady dreams, increasing focus and health for hours after they wake. However, if hostile forces approach with intent to harm, the standard will instantly awake all within its influence, snapping them to clear consciousness within an instant, ready to defend themselves and eachother from attack.

The Broadshield

This clean shield of polished metal has a red-clothed inner. It’s face portrays a forward-facing bird of prey in golden glory. Once the command word is spoken, the bird opens its wings out beyond the confines of the shield’s structure, creating a great barrier of yellow light, at least thrice as wide in both directions. Although this barrier cannot halt sword strikes as well as mortal steel and iron, it can eat at bolts and arrows, destroying them before they reach their original target, meaning those behind the shieldbearer can benefit from his protection without hugging her heels.

Heavenly Hands Amulet

This pure-silver decoration of two human hands clasped together hangs on a fine chain of tiny metal loops. This beautiful trinket is often unworn, preference often made for other magical amulets and enchanted necklaces, opting to keep it in a pocket or tied around the hilt of a weapon. However, when wounds are too great to ignore, and time is limited, the bearer of this item sets it onto the ground and utters a soundless prayer with a kiss, and from where their was soil and stone, a ghostly form rises up, the necklace easing around the head and resting on the neck. This form wears clerical vestments and holds no weapon. They stand, survey the area, smile kindly, then begin to cast healing magics, attending to wounds and slowing blood-loss. And then, when no longer needed, he who summoned the form thanks the apparition, who returns the gesture, and drops away, leaving only the necklace behind.

Black and Red Robes

These short-cropped, hooded robes, flowing no lower than the knee, made to be worn with trousers or leggings, are of a deep, inky black, trimmed with a inch-line of wine red, notched with crimson stitches. Grey smoke drifts out of the large hood, and off of the shoulders, like steam from a boiled pot. Dark, whispering screams drift away into the air, piercing the ears of any who hear it. The possessor of these robes can meld into shadows and murk like a fellow shade, melding almost flawlessly with darkness. They also find that wounds they cause bleed more heavilly, ache with greater severity, and scar with incredible ease. However, when an unfortunate soul falls to their hands, the robes secrete blood by the pint, soaking the skin and staining the floor, dripping as they walk, leaving trails of crimson.

Enjoy

Pixie x

28/08/16

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We’ve got your weekend inspiration! #DiscoverTheCoast with us in California

The California Coastal National Monument preserves important habitat for coastal plants and animals, and protects cultural sites that provide insight into the people who lived along the California coast thousands of years ago. Many of the new units of the monument are also culturally and spiritually important to local tribes.


Cotoni-Coast Dairies
in Santa Cruz County extends from the steep slopes of the Santa Cruz Mountains to marine terraces overlooking the Pacific Ocean. This portion of the California Coastal National Monument encompasses ancient archaeological sites, riparian and wetland habitats, coastal prairie grasslands, and woodlands that include stands of coast redwood. Photo by Jim Pickering, BLM. 

A respite from the modern world, complete with historic architecture and abundant natural life, awaits visitors to the California coast at Piedras Blancas.

Only 40 miles north of San Luis Obispo, California, the large white coastal rocks for which Piedras Blancas was named have served as a landmark for centuries to explorers and traders along the central coast of California.

Built in 1875 as a safety aid to mariners, the light station once cast a flashing, oil-flame light 25 miles out to sea, warning ship captains to steer clear of the white rocks that would mean certain doom for a vessel.

Today, the light station, its first order lens and light structure long ago removed, casts a beacon to travelers on scenic California Highway 1. It continues to provide a navigational aid to ship traffic, as well. Photo by David Ledig, BLM.

Keep reading

While cleaning up some files today, I came across photos that I took at John and Mary’s wedding. Hard to believe how long ago it was, and how much younger they looked before the stress of life caught up with them to silver their hair. (John more than anyone, he’s gone quite white.) When searching through all the poses and laughter, I found this - my fondest photo. Molly Hooper.

Asleep on a tomb, as only Molly could, she was tired after photos and the events of the morning. This was before the reception and a chill had fallen over us. As people collected and spoke, Molly found a spot in the sun on the marker of a dead man and allowed herself a respite from the day’s activities. She reminded me of one of those sculpted angels that people would have created for children who passed, as a representation of something pure and honest and virtuous who ferried between the world of the living and the dead. I suspect she won’t understand what I see here, but I see more than a sleepy woman with yellow flats in a coat that’s far too big for her. 

It was a happy day for many people, and one I think back on fondly.