Couldn't Sleep Tonight So I Kept Drawing Until I Was Out Of Energy. This Is The Result. Good Night.

Junkies and dark priests

Why isnt there more crossovers between funger 1 and 2? And why arent they modern too?

Let's stick to chess next time 😓

Are you constantly wanting to do A Thing but never know how to do The Thing?

Does figuring out where to start a task and knowing what steps need to be taken to complete the task stress you out?

Lemme introduce you to…

goblin.tools

For example, you want to clean your oven.

You simply go to the website and in the “Add new item” box, you type “clean the oven”. You can then also use the lil chillies next to the plus to change the level of breaking-down you’d like. Next, hit the magic wand-looking button to break it down!

You can check off items as you go, and further break things down if desired!

It works on large tasks such as planning a cross-country trip, writing a book or going on vacation and smaller tasks such as cleaning an oven.

There’s also tools for task time estimation, meal-prep that takes into account dietary constraints, equipment and such, and a braindump compiler.

It’s available as an IOS/Android app for less than a dollar, or a free web app. I can’t hype this up enough, the developers deserve so much love for this.

Rohan has normal adult problems.

happy (late) anniversary to funger! you weird, wonderful game I can never recommend to a majority of people.

Fucked up how humanity discovered electricity and radiation and made machines and learned to make airplanes and cured diseases and our takeaway isnt that "Some Magic Is Real And Here's Why", but that magic is fake this is big boy science and it's totally not magical

for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.

i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.

in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.

the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.

i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.

i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.

i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.

the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.

when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.

we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.

just a little Funger comic. cahara and d'arce briefly discuss their special someones.

p.s. help me get to grad school: https://ko-fi.com/sunnyshea

Bath aftercare

My boyfriend was showing me his cat and I leaned over to kiss the cat on his soft little baby head and he went "meow" and scrambled away because I'd been wearing my headphones and I accidentally jabbed him with the microphone.

And I said "Damn, this is exactly like in the Iliad"