I havent made them myself, I drafted them for a student to make for her special needs sibling. That said, I have some really nice headphones with broken plastic that I’ve been meaning to modify.

I modeled it off of a pair of Panasonic EAH-20 that I had back in highschool but with wider bands to allow a bit more robustness and with holes and slots for 3m screws.

I’m not a fan of monster hunter and souls games. I’ve given them try aftet try, but they just don’t jive with me. Part of it is the jrpg aesthetic. I was never a final fantasy kid so it just doesn’t hit me the way sword and sorcery do. I’m not a get gud player. When a game gets tough, I get weird and I love games that encourage me to do things unexpected instead of hitting me with a stick for not doing the expected. Monster hunter feels very similar on that aspect, I get no satisfaction for perfectly executing a button combo, I get satisfaction from finding an unexpected gear combo.

If they’re your game, l love that for you. I like seeing people have fun. I just don’t find it there personally.

I have templates for metal parts you can cut and bend with hand tools and a cheap dremel. I can send it to you if you want.

Yes, but they’re also right, Bisney would just make it palps again…

To add to this, there’s the cost trade. To use one of these 0days as a resource means the result needs to be equal to or more than the cost of using this. If it cost my opponent $3 to cause a problem, and it costs me $6 to fix it, my opponent effectively profited off of that exchange. I can’t think of a single journalist since Watergate that could cost the government enough money to be worth paying for this kind of removal when it’s far cheaper to have them murdered let them die peacefully in their sleep from bullet inhalation. Not to mention that it shows their hand if they so it publicly and makes future targets harder to hit.

You and I will never be worth the kind of money that currently takes, but if they get an official back door installed the cost goes down so far that it would literally never be a loss.

It’s because we’re not a group, we’re the defendants of two rivsl factions that flooded the state during its inception in order to swing the vote in whether or not we’d be a slave state. It’s so insanely polarized here that you can’t drive two blocks without seeing both extremes.

If they’re in the same sarlacc, maybe Boba only managed it because the sarlacc was currently weakened by the psychic battle with the sith lord. Who in turn capitalizes on the distraction caused by Boba to then escape himself.

Genuinely considered Boba Fett’s escape being the catalyst that sets the guy free. Could even retcon in that the only reason either worked was because of the other. Boba fett’s bombs could only weaken it because of the psychic battle it was already in, sith guy won the psychic battle because the sarlacc was distracted by the bombs.

Could even capitalize on book of Boba fett by having fett play a reluctant hero role for the new cast, informing them of the sith guy’s plans because they were both connected through the sarlacc so there was some bleed over.

More so than you’d probably think. 4-chan is the vat that the current wave of fascism gestated in.

Impossibly ancient sith Lord spending millennia using the force to escape a sarlacc and arriving just as the empire falls and the new republic is trying to start would have been so much better than “somehow… Palpatine returned”

Since that dream I have felt the grinding knowledge of the pool in a number of other dreams. Often when I have a nightmare, the low rumble coming before I realize I’m dreaming and changing the dream world back to something familiar.

The second of these things came about 4 years ago. I found myself dreaming of a house I grew up in, a Victorian style house that had been divided into a triplex before my parents had attempted to buy it. As I wondered it in a nostalgic tour, the basalt pool warned me of something near. I understood that if I wanted to continue enjoying myself I should avoid the back hall. I wondered if this was a warning and it assured I was safe either way. I’d make a perfect horror movie protagonist, when warned by an eldritch entity beyond my comprehension I opted to immediately investigate.

As I stepped into the hall I found myself suspended hundreds of feet in the air over a flat unending expanse of sallow land as black ashes drifted by on a weak wind. Below me, across the entirety and coming from all directions, single file lines of people marched on to the singular landmark of this world.

At the center of these endless queues was an impossibly vast hole, not in the ground but in reality. Rising from it was the torso of a gaunt and boney humanoid being. Below me the people were ants and still this creatures towered over my vantage point. It’s skin was the same sickly baige of the landscape and the sky. Its arms triple jointed and ending in hands that’s were barely human. Its posture was that of someone desperately trying to hide their nakedness with only their arms as a shield. Its face terminated in a flat plane just below the tip of the nose so that it’s nostrils were hinted by the barest of transition from the upper lip. Floating close but distinctly separate from where it’s face ended was yet another hole like void, situated level to where the eyes would have been and evoking the image of a horrid halo. The ash fell freely from this second void and just barely, the glow of foreign stars could be seen within.

As I took in this sight I understood that the marching lines ended as each person jumped into the void below. Some would fall to the plateau of the entity’s head to be consumed, the rest became the ash in the air. On occasions, the thing would pause in it’s futile efforts to hide itself and reach miles into the lines around it to pluck a single person by their throat. When I asked the basalt why I was greated with a vision from its perspective. As the lengthy fingers pinched their target the victim fractured, echoes of their form expanding out in a starburst, each a representation of possibly. Every potential version of a being throughout all potential timelines, each seized by the throat and violently ripped from their anchor before being carelessly tossed to fizzle away in the wind. Through the pool I understood that this is both the principle of pain and ecstasy for the victim, an infinite moment of sensation as they sease to be in every possible way.

I ask aloud why I’m seeing this and instead of answer, the rumble grows from within me as the entity takes notice for the first time that we’ve intruded. Before it make a move I’m back above the pool, then back in my childhood house, as if I’d just entered the back hall. Ash lingers in the air but fades away to nothing before my eyes. I wake.

I’ve had a series of continuous, hyper-realistic dreams in which I encounter bizarre god like beings. The weirdest part is that I’ve been into lucid dreaming for more than 2 decades after learning it to combat nightmares, despite knowing I’m dreaming, I can’t change anything during these specific dreams. I have full control of me, but all the tricks I use to change the dream world don’t work.

The first was about 8 years ago. I found myself in a dream zone I created to look like my ideal pizzeria surrounded by the usual characters but outside this lady in blue keeps getting closer to the window and it’s creeping me out so I go to leave. As I’m going down the hall to the kitchen, there’s a mirror on the wall but it shows a stone tunnel instead of a reflection. As I’m staring at it, I realize I’m staring at the hallway and I’m now in the tunnel. I don’t like it, and I try to change venues but there’s no way out. Eventually I decided to follow the tunnel and it takes literal days of time. The stone is this waxy smooth rock descending slightly but with too much of a curve to see past. Everything is dimly lit with no apparent light source.

I finally get to the bottom and it’s a giant domed room. Same stone, still dimly lit, maybe 500ft across. There’s a 10ft walkway around the edge of the room and the rest is a huge pool of what looks like basalt, but it’s moving and ripling like water. There’s this constant low grinding noise echoing all around. I suddenly feel like I’m not alone, I turn and it’s the blue woman. Before I register, she plants both hands on my chest and shoves me full force into the basalt pool.

I hit it with a thud but immediately begin to sink. I can’t swim in it, it’s pulling me down. It washes over me with the grace of fluid and the texture of stone. I feel it flowing around me, scouring my skin like sandpaper, it’s in my mouth, my nose, my eyes, seeping into my pores and joints, and I feel it scraping every inch of me inside and out. Just as the pain becomes unstable the grinding of stone becomes coherent. It’s not a voice, it’s an understanding.

Thousands of memories flash through my mind. Knights throwing peasants into the pit, their skin melting away and their bones twisting into wretched things. A Mongol band stands at the edge, when their horses refuse to near the pool the light their tails on fire. The plunge in only for a second before rising from the pit, half skelital, half stone, galloping around half submerged as they scream in ways animals never should. The woman, sorrowful and scared, dressed in hides with brilliant red hair. She cradles a stillborn baby in her arms and lays it gently into the pool. It’s skin blues be its features contort before it cries out and sinks into the basalt pool. Her arms bear the same blue where she touched the pool. These and thousands others fill my mind and as I witness I understand that the pool does not want the innocent’s it’s been fed but the cruelty of those who stand on its bank and cast others in. Eras immemorial of being forced to sup on the insubstantial while true neurishment stood just out of reach. Starving in a prison as a feast waited just beyond the bars.

Finally the visions receded and I realize I feel no pain. I understand that the torture was an unfortunate necessity to allow me to understand and that I am different now, changed inperceptibly. The pool raises me first to the surface then up to stand on the stone lip of it’s bowl facing the tunnel I entered from.

Before me stands the blue woman and I take her in for the first time. She is nude from the waist up, her skin a sickly mottle of pale human and that corrupted ashen blue spreading from her arms out across the body, but her vibrant hair and green eyes are the same as the day she came to the pool. What I had though was a tattered skirt is actually the skin from her hips down, flayed away from the body in Evan strips and left the hang from the waist where a braided leather belt seems to prevent the lines from running further. The muscle of her legs raw and exposed. Our eyes meet and the expression she gives is apologetic, embarrassed, and understanding, for both her role in this event and the grotesque image that she knows herself to be. We nod to each other in silence understanding before she steps aside so that I may leave.

The tunnel that took days to follow is now less than a few steps and as I reach the end the mirror is simply a frame, allowing my exit back into my family pizzeria. I wake.

I miss matpat’s golden era of Game Theory, back before it because fnaf lore the channel. There was a genuine level of creativity and earnestness to everything he made and while I desperately wanted to like the new hosts, they feel hollow and the content is shallow. I would watch a thousand sans is ness videos over another “it’s another analog horror project!”

Same for binging with babish, it went from earnest cooking channel that made you confident in your abilities to “I ate food in places you can’t afford”

Cenefix got bought out by IGN and now it’s just advertising.

Above all else, I would love an SCP reader that does them in order and explains the finer details. The Exploring Series is my absolute favorite because he actually goes back and explains the details, gives small blurbs when another scp is mentioned so you don’t have to go look it up and guess why scp-#### is mentioned off handedly in scp-####. Unfortunately, he does the same thing everyone else does and only reads the current popular entries. There are thousands of entries that have never been looked at publicly, someone should cover them.

It can be very satisfying. I have a tequila bottle full of algae that’s been minding its own for years.

Yup, that’s the thing I’m looking for lol that’s what I get for typing before breakfast.

Other guy got me right, terrarium is what I was thinking of lol.

Zippo is the figit toy of boomers.

Roller bearings, they’re so satisfying.

Arch lighters. I have one that fits in a zippo case!

Bumble ball, it’s a baby toy with a spinning motor in it, bounces around wildly when you hit the button. As an adult, these things are hilarious and a holding one is a great ADHD stim.

You can make a herbarium out of snack jars from dollar tree. I’ve never had so much fun looking at a jar of dirt.

Oragami. Any time I’m left unattended with scrap paper I the area with butterflies and flowers. Keeps the hands busy and everyone gets blown away by it.

I got the ability to unground myself after being denied any of my interests and social connections for a year because I didn’t load the dishwasher fast enough.

Sadly that’s the worst option budget wise, the cheap one is twice what I have to spend for this.

Can I get left behind?