#angularly
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Interracial shemale group bang fed agent
Cuckold Spreads Blonde Wife Uma Thompsons Legs for Another Man to Enjoy
Gosada na calcinha
Small tits ebony sub fingered in device
Indian teen foursome outside girlfriend boyfriend fun
SEXY LATINA FUCKS HER FRIENDS WITH A STRAPON
Punk Girl in Fishnet Stockings Fucks Herself with a Big Dildo
Esposa vagina dormida provoca
Masterbation mahalakshmi in online to her x boy friend
Lilu Moon Fuck Tight Pussy Huge Dildo
#replunging#amildar#polyideic#pensione#semimoralistic#apertured#reimburse#presubordinate#McMillan#ayahuasca#Banba#unenigmatically#rechristens#anneals#Culm#mast-fed#Birds#redbaited#angularly#Garrisonian
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could u draw pharah or junkrat? curious to see how they’d look in your style i love it btw :)
Thank you :-) Here you go:
#overwatch#junkrat#pharah#Forgot to say in the previous ask but I'm just drawing however I feel since I don't really have a definite style in my head. So I apologize#if you requested and actually wanted to see them in a different style (I'm just drawing them all semi-angularly right now)#Anyways thank you for requesting!#art#ask
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Sometimes you like a fictional man...and then he has the worst fucking haircut known to man. So you frantically write future fics to get rid of it. But its too late-
#this is about so many of my blorbos i vant even-#alastair carstair#yall remember that one card where his hair was blond and his hair was angularly cut starting from his cheek to his hairline?#i have nightmares#eli moskowitz#the mohawk fucks with me#will byers#mushroom headass#and so many more~
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took a closer look at lucifer’s notebook. it’s headed “PLEASE HELP 4/21/15″ followed by 160something tallies (though they say there’ve been 154 people who don’t give a fuck), then doodles, including what may be a face, seemingly smudged or erased lines, what i’m just now realizing may be the head of a snake with an arrow shooting at it, and crucially and most obviously, a backwards Cool S.
the writing in the middle of the page is:
I miss you
and I remember
what it was like be[fore]
I wish I didn't
#they're baby (god's unwanted child)#asia kate dillon#lucifer our better angels#compared with asia's own handwriting as seen in billions i'm sure they wrote the words themself. so are these also their drawings. love it#they draw v angularly lol i respect it....already noticed via their billions screenshots their handwriting is nonzero similar to mine#which you Know is v attuned for my aesthetique sensibilities same as goes into lineart for me lol...decided to write a's diff one day#and then i did. & capital Gs. once in elem school i decided to dot i's w/little circles and apparently the teacher hated it lmfao. panache#anyways lucifer satan the devil is doodling and writing diary letters to their omniscient parent i.e. for all intents & purposes praying?#well i love them so much aw cmere....rebellious child interpretation....#well so long as god is flexible and dynamic and themself able to repent parent; that's just fantastic#meanwhile it's settled#like how people are like oh my god. upside cross ye old saint peter emblem??? satan????#backwards Cool S is now the satanic emblem of ''but who prays for satan? who in eighteen centuries has had the common humanity to pray for#the one sinner that needed it most; our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one; the one sinner among us#all who had the highest and clearest right to every christian's daily and nightly prayers; for the plain and unassailable reason that his#was the first and greatest need; he being among sinners the supremest?''#also can't ignore their like tayloresquely dark red pants here. they truly have an outfit i'm taking notes thusly#ambitiously taking screenshots & rotating & tamping down brightness while ramping up contrast to try to make out the action like#this is just like marble hornets fr....all my training#(actually that specifically wasn't really The Way all that often lol....just reminded me of it nonetheless)#all these precise dates....april twenty first happy birthday to lucifer betterangels. october second happy birthday to blade gunnblade
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I love the Cinquedea bc it's so pretty and looks super cool and was very popular but it's effectiveness as a weapon is dubious at best. Really slay fashion and status item though
#smokey talks#smokey's armory#i mean yeah its good for the kind of cramped areas you'd think up for the area and time period#but you'll notice the ones that are less ornamented and more likely used are either#longer and more arming sword shaped or#broader and less immediately angularly tapered
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this angle shooter challenge is so funny actually. people were saying how mediocre this sub is, only for the devs to say "actually?? fuck u guys. we are forcing u to like it" and buffed it so it's literally charger: the sub (now with angles)
#it obviously makes sense they will try to do something like this for a challenge#but I find it kinda funny how they just went crazy with it (not crazy enough to make it so u can bring any weapon tho)#I still think it is kinda weird they didn't make it so you get some damage if u pass through the line it makes#((also line marker is a better name sorry))#rambling angularly
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2024 January 8
The Phases of Venus
Image Credit & License: Stéphane Gonzales
Explanation: Venus goes through phases. Just like our Moon, Venus can appear as a full circular disk, a thin crescent, or anything in between. Venus, frequently the brightest object in the post-sunset or pre-sunrise sky, appears so small, however, that it usually requires binoculars or a small telescope to clearly see its current phase. The featured time-lapse sequence was taken over the course of six months in 2015 from Surgères, Charente-Maritime, France, and shows not only how Venus changes phase, but changes angular size as well. When Venus is on the far side of the Sun from the Earth, it appears angularly smallest and nearest to full phase, while when Venus and Earth are on the same side of the Sun, Venus appears larger, but as a crescent. This month Venus rises before dawn in waxing gibbous phases.
∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap240108.html
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What's a Papyrus made of???
A SKELETON, OF COURSE!
Other than a skeleton.
PUZZLE PASSIONEERING, AND DARING TO A GREAT EXTREME? OR PERHAPS YOU MEAN MY ENDLESS HANDSOMENESS AND CHARM!
Well, those too! But how do people draw you? You aren't made of the same shapes as your brother, after all!
I AM MADE OF MANY SHAPES! GREAT SHAPES! SANS IS MADE OF... SLIME. OR SOMETHING.
He's made of circles.
THAT'S WHAT I SAID! SLIME, CIRCLES, BROTHERS—IT'S ALL THE SAME THING.
Hmmm, I guess you kind of have a point, but—
...Well! I digressed! Here's a little thing I put together containing a lot of my observations about how artists commonly draw Papyrus! There's a lot of variation, (a lot a lot!) but I have found some common trends! Like building blocks!
OR A PUZZLE!
A Papyrus-shaped puzzle!
Not pictured here is the variation in the top part of the skull! (What I have depicted as a circle here.) Some people draw it more angularly, or even more like a square.
ARE YOU CALLING ME A SQUARE?
No-
GOOD! BECAUSE I AM ONE! A SQUARE, THAT IS! NEVER BROKEN A RULE IN MY LIFE, NO SIREE!!!
...Are you sweating right now?
NO!
...Hmmm. Anyway! This post is getting long, so there's more under the cut!
WHAT'S A CUT?
Well, this is a tumblr post, so that means that I want to put some of the longer content I make behind a read more line. That will collapse the rest of the text so that it doesn't make it too hard for people to scroll.
TUMBLER? SCROLLING? YOU SOUND LIKE SANS.
Sans uses tumblr?! Oh no...
...Well, onto the rest!
There's a lot more variation of Papyrus's mouth. People can get really creative! But most of the common depictions I see follow these building blocks.
YOU MEAN PUZZLE PIECES!
Yeah! Puzzle pieces.
THIS PUZZLE NEEDS MORE SPIKES! IT IS DISTINCTLY LACKING IN THE DEADLY SPIKE DEPARTMENT.
Wait, no— Papyrus put that down! This is not a spike kind of puzzle!
And finally, eye sockets! I've seen people do them in a lot of different ways, including like Sans's sockets but slightly longer. But again, this is how I see it done most frequently! And Papyrus has a lot of more extreme expressions, such as his eye boggle and his sparkling sockets that adds even more variation.
And that's it for now! There's still a lot I didn't go over, and I don't know if this could be counted as a tutorial? (Though if it helps, that's great!) I'm more just here to ramble about all the cool art I see of Papyrus!
I didn't get a chance to go over Papyrus's nose, nasal ridge, or the way people draw his neck. Not to mention the rest of his body! And his clothes! There's lots more common depictions (building blocks!) there.
PUZZLE PIECES!
Puzzle pieces. Like scarf vs. cape, gloves vs. mittens, round battle body or more square. (Or even a normal crop top!) Shorts vs. bowl, black tight material vs. bare bones...
That's not even getting into the AU Papyri! They also have common building blocks! (Puzzle pieces, I know.)
THEY AREN'T AS HANDSOME AS ME, ANYWAY! EVEN IF THEY ARE ALSO VERY GREAT.
Ahem. ...Debatable. (Fell gives you a run for your money in the handsomeness department—) ...Nah, you're right.
I AM, AND I KNOW IT!
(I'm also not as good at drawing them...)
Well. Needless to say, there's a lot to cover! And I've spent... huh. 7 hours on this so far! So I'll leave it off for now and maybe do a bit more if there's any interest.
WHO WOULDN'T BE INTERESTED IN ME? WHAT DOES SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME RECOGNITION AROUND HERE?
Never change, Papyrus. Never change.
THAT SOUNDS LIKE AN UNHEALTHY IDEAL! ...EVEN IF I DON'T SEE HOW I COULD GET ANY BETTER.
Huh. Surprisingly true.
Well. Thanks for sticking with this so long!
How do you draw Papyrus? I'd love to see! Do you use any of these building blo... puzzle pieces?
OOOH ME TOO, ME TOO!!! I WANT TO SEE! YOU SHOULD ADD MORE SPIKES THAN FLOO, THOUGH.
#undertale#papyrus#undertale fanart#floof draws#tutorial#art tips#i don't know if my rambling counts#but just in case i'm tagging it!#long post#self insert
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The kid really wasn’t supposed to be an issue. Dick assured himself it wasn’t going to be an issue. He crossed his heart and hoped to die, dragged a knife over his throat, offering Tiger a solemn promise before flipping the knife between his fingers, dancing too close to his jugular, and winking. (One of these days, he’d put a flash of panic in Tiger’s eyes, he just knew it.) Agent 37, especially now with Tiger, was damn near unshakable.
But here’s the thing: this little brat with a suit more expensive than half of Bruce’s wine cellar and a pout sweeter than a baby’s and pudginess still clinging to his cheeks hadn’t stopped talking about jaguars in the past ten minutes.
“Eyes on target. Two minutes to break through security’s last defense,” says Tiger’s voice in his ear, quiet even through their tinny comms. Dick can picture the concentrated furrow on his forehead, the set of his shoulders and flex of his traps to settle himself before a mission’s last stretch. He can picture it better than he can his siblings, somedays.
“That’s great, buddy!” Dick tells Tiger and the kid damn-near clinging to his leg. His hair is blonde, ruffled, clinging to any vestige of its gelled style with a sort of hopeless desperation, like trying to ground a ghost. And this wouldn’t be an issue, it really truly wouldn’t, if Damian Wayne hadn’t also spent their last gala running his tiny, calloused hands through his sticky hair, doing his best impression of not clinging to Dick’s leg, and continuously talking about tigers.
How long has it been since someone’s last touched him with such simple trust? Dick feels the boy’s faith angularly, like a spear of glass through his ribs, through the ribbons of his tendons.
It’s frigid. The two of them are on the ballroom’s balcony, letting the wind use her cold fingers to trace the underside of Dick’s scalp, letting a night of dancing and quiet drugs and secrets spill out behind them. (Letting Dick protect this child’s innocence a day longer.) He isn’t true royalty but he may as well be, the way Bruce always was, because underneath the balcony overlook is a very illegal jaguar enclosure. Inside, the jaguar seems to be stretching, waking herself up for the day, taking note of the iron fence surrounding her as Dick supposes she does every morning. Dick can sympathize. There’s a different sort of freedom they’re both experiencing for the first time, and Dick thinks they both rather prefer before.
“—and they have the strongest bite of any big cat! Compared to its size, I mean.” The boy clearly thinks this fact is splendid—it actually kind of is—and he looks up at Dick, pleading with his eyes for acknowledgement. His aunt and uncle, the child’s new guardians, are attempting to use him to release a bioweapon four nights from now that would potentially kill millions. He’s resisted them for weeks, and here he is, begging for a morsel of praise.
Dick lets his eyes go wide. “Whoa, really? That’s actually pretty cool.” The boy beams, his little wildflower head bobbing and his smile unburdened, beauty like something peeking up out of the earth for the first time. God, Damian used to hate these parties. Used to scowl at any mention of fumbling himself into a child’s suit and making nice with shark-toothed civilians for hours. Used to look up at Dick with that same unfiltered joy when they sat in the hall, asking Alfred to sneak them some tarts, Damian leaning into Dick’s arm and telling him about a cool new tiger fact he learned. That arm still prickles. Emptiness does the opposite of pain, and somehow that is always worse.
“Everything’s disabled,” Tiger’s voice nudges him out of his reverie. “Except the last password. Needs to be handwritten. You got that kid to open up yet?” Dick can hear the challenge in his voice, ever so subtly weaved into his even tone, and he can’t keep his lips from turning up at the edges.
The jaguar in the enclosure below folds up from her stretches, smooth like a burn, and leaps atop a large rock in her enclosure. The boy is stunned into silence for a brief moment. He seems to be gazing at the jaguar with a dangerous sort of longing in his eyes. Like he wants to be cracked open, like a stone-fruit ripped in two and devoured, like trust seems to be at once a holy and sordid thing to him. (He seems to be exactly the son of parents who, rather than entrusting any of their relatives or partners, made their child create the password for access to a mass bioweapon, then had the brilliant sense to be assassinated before they could tell him about it.)
Quietly, murmuring into the comm on his wrist, Dick says, “Try panthera onca.”
There’s a pause, then, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“He’s a kid, Tiger.” It wasn’t really that long ago that Dick was making up stupid passwords for Bruce to guess. The password to the pillow fort Dick made for Bruce’s birthday was the binary nomenclature for a bat. The password Damian uses—used, fuck, used—for his phone was the king cobra.
Silence from the other end of the comm. Silence from the kid, too. Dick glances over, and sees he’s still hypnotized by the jaguar. He follows the child’s line of sight, and finds the jaguar staring straight at them. I am hungry, her eyes tell him. I have not felt another living being in so long that I will devour the next one I touch. I am so fucking starving and I want you like an organ taken out of your guts, I want to swallow you into a lanky-shaped hollow near my stomach, and maybe, Dick thinks, maybe she’ll name it “Agent 37” or “Nightwing” or possibly even “Robin.” But what I want most of all, she says with a flick of her tail and a twitch of her ears, is to rip out your bones and hold them, craft them, use them to wrench open the bars of this cursed cage so that I may run, and never return. I will take your bones with me, the jaguar promises, so you will be free as well.
The jaguar growls quietly, and Dick can somehow hear it from the balcony. Then, she flits away. Dick untenses in time with the boy next to him. He thinks of iron bars and bloody torsos and a time when he could wear his own face. He thinks of a boy, only a little taller than the one standing next to him, who would have kept him from ever giving in to Bruce’s demands to renounce his face to begin with.
(He thinks of Damian’s bloody torso, specifically, and thinks that he would let the jaguar carve open his gut and tear out his bloated bag of organs, if only she would give them to Damian. They would be more useful than his unknowable face.)
Tiger’s voice filters through the comm. “Package secure. Heading towards safehouse delta.”
The kid next to him sighs happily, again. “Pretty cool, isn’t she?”
Dick smiles down at him. “Very. What’s her name?”
The boy frowns, confusion on his face. “She doesn’t have a name. It’s better not to have one, I think.”
“Oh really?”
A nod from the child, more serious than Dick imagined “She did bad things. She killed people. That’s why they let me have her. And I think she’d like it better if I didn’t use her old name, the one that she had when she did the bad things. But I don’t want to give her a new name and have it be wrong! So she doesn’t have a name.”
“Do you think she likes that?” Dick asks. “Names are—names are important.”
“I don’t know,” the boy says, suddenly looking very unsure of himself. “But I think it’s better to not have a name than to have one that hurts you. Or to have one that doesn’t fit.”
Dick hums. Considers. Offers the boy another smile and straightens up in the way people do when they’re getting ready to leave. “I suppose you have a point, kid.”
The child nods. There are bruises in the tender skin under his red-rimmed eyes and his lips have scabs from his own teeth all over them. They’re so chapped, they’re nearly bleeding. Dick knows how much sleep children get after their parents are murdered in front of them. “Thank you for the jaguar facts,” Dick tells him, sincerely. “They made the night much more fun.”
The boy nods. Opens his mouth, closes it, then seems to make up his mind and opens it again. “Before you go,” he says, with all the hesitation he’s kept close and quiet this entire night, “can I—can I just have a hug? Please?”
And Dick, without hesitation, folds to his knees and opens his arms.
---
@dickgraysonweek dick grayson week day 2: first responder au | “can i just have a hug? please?” | spies & secret agents
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taglist who will probably shoot on sight thinking i've risen from the dead: @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @buticaaba @comics-observer @newsical @queenofbooknerds @scattered-winter @amillionandonefandoms
#dickgraysonweek#someone know if this is long enough that i should post it on ao3 it's much longer than my normal crap and idk the protocol for ~1.5k fics#scribbles from the swamp#dick grayson#nightwing#agent 37#dc#dick grayson fic#nightwing fic#agent 37 fic#dc fic
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some kind of doodling while having an existential moment
[sketchy drawing of silco, with jinx juxtaposed. they are drawn very angularly]
#silco#my art#arcane#hhhhhhh it's one of those times where I'm....being hard on myself and it's unwarrented but also I'm working through it#by doodling a thing#so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯\
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Gao Hang, In your face, 2020. Acrylic on canvas. 40 x 30 in. (101 x 76 cm).
Gao Hang’s Boxer Suspended in Time
In a boxing ring without a ring, you are a pugilist embroiled in a match. No, literally, and you have been for the past three years. At least, in your current state, painted by Gao Hang, on display in the Anya Tish Gallery in Houston, Texas. It is crucial to note that this painting only shows part of you: your pencil-straight arm is the only marker of your presence. Where is the rest of you? Possibly floating in a limbo state between levels of media. Your opponent may take up a greater portion of the canvas, but you know Hang has selected you as his star athlete (can you call him ‘coach’?). It is your eyes, through which spectators enter the ring. You provide the embodiment for their aesthetic experience. Yet despite this supposed privilege, you can’t help but suspect a veiled exploitation.
The scene is restricted and liberated. All of you are restricted by the limitations of late 20th-century video game graphics. Polygonal volumes trace the borders of perceptible bodies. Yet the contents of your shapes reveal a freedom of hues. You observe your opponent. His pained expression is obscured by a damp cloud, whose humidity wettened the paint and allowed it to smear. Colors are freed from their pixel cages and settle into a soft blend, overlaid by a grainy texture. The blurred gradient volumes are separated by razor-sharp lines, preventing the grime-tinted audience members from blending into one another. Stark against the rest of the canvas, is your fluorescent boxing glove, its flatness beautifully realized by acrylic paint.
Your hand has clipped - or is clipping - through his angularly bald head, a high-speed collision glitch. You are not sure which tense to use; the ephemerality of this event has stretched beyond the sensible (or the comfortable). When it happened, pride surged through you: your movement speed beat the virtual medium’s frame rate. But this sense of accomplishment soon turned into an indeterminacy. Because of this error, you are temporarily rendered hollow. An awful state of being that makes you question your power.
On the stands in front of you, the expressive figures generate a cacophonous medley of cheers and heckles, but behind you, the spectators are much more reserved. While you are stuck in a snapshot, you can rear your head to view the audience behind you. The room does not even have any seats, it’s just an empty cube enclosed by white walls. Does the gallery owner also gamble their funds away like the brutes that bet on you? On your side, the spectators seem contemplative. Initially, you had considered their reactions positively surprising for a rowdy match like this, almost like they bestowed you with dignity. But after years of being static, you began to discern a vileness in their observation. A condescension.
You are a doubly-mediated spectacle. In your world, you are a fighter, a performer, whose physical strength is commodified. Bets are placed on your brawn and grit. The stimulating appeal of this fight resulted in its simulation in the form of digital play, allowing anyone access to your body. In the spectators’ world, a fault in your medium is the mainspring of your display, their reactions typified by amusement. In all of these cases, your suffering serves as the main force of attraction. And attract you do. Spectators huddle around you, clogging the cramped hallways of your exhibition space. This coagulation of humans reminds you of the blood that would have splattered, had your body not become hollow.
You have heard critics say you appeal to the sensibilities of the digitally literate generation. Their time is marked by social media and the absence of privacy. As the borders between public and private gradually blur, all that is deemed entertaining must . If the processes of humanization are not to be done through a screen, nothing stops real suffering from becoming entertainment. How does one humanize with what is so far away from them? To some, you represent a nostalgic negotiation of the post-digital condition through familiarity. To others, you are the embodiment of fauxstalgia, created to reflect the current online zeitgeist through the visual language of a digital aesthetic from three decades back. A tasteless anachronism. Critics sure love their words. But, whatever, it probably makes sense to the viewers. And what do you know? You are just a brainless fighter.
Indeterminate and stuck in staticity, you wait for any indication signaling a continuation of the match. It cannot end without a winner, and so, without a winner, it will never end.
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Unexpected Clouds Toward the Andromeda Galaxy - Yann SaintyMarcel Drechsler
Why are there oxygen-emitting arcs near the direction of the Andromeda galaxy? No one is sure. The gas arcs, shown in blue, were discovered and first confirmed by amateur astronomers just last year. The two main origin hypotheses for the arcs are that they really are close to Andromeda (M31), or that they are just coincidentally placed gas filaments in our Milky Way galaxy. Adding to the mystery is that arcs were not seen in previous deep images of M31 taken primarily in light emitted by hydrogen, and that other, more distant galaxies have not been generally noted as showing similar oxygen-emitting structures. Dedicated amateurs using commercial telescopes made this discovery because, in part, professional telescopes usually investigate angularly small patches of the night sky, whereas these arcs span several times the angular size of the full moon. Future observations -- both in light emitted by oxygen and by other elements -- are sure to follow.
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Unexpected Clouds Toward the Andromeda Galaxy
Why are there oxygen-emitting arcs near the direction of the Andromeda galaxy? No one is sure. The gas arcs, shown in blue, were discovered and first confirmed by amateur astronomers just last year. The two main origin hypotheses for the arcs are that they really are close to Andromeda (M31), or that they are just coincidentally placed gas filaments in our Milky Way galaxy. Adding to the mystery is that arcs were not seen in previous deep images of M31 taken primarily in light emitted by hydrogen, and that other, more distant galaxies have not been generally noted as showing similar oxygen-emitting structures. Dedicated amateurs using commercial telescopes made this discovery because, in part, professional telescopes usually investigate angularly small patches of the night sky, whereas these arcs span several times the angular size of the full moon. Future observations -- both in light emitted by oxygen and by other elements -- are sure to follow.
Image Credit & Copyright: Yann Sainty & Marcel Drechsler
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June Character Spotlight Miera
Miera Falconheight (Falk), High Priestess and Commissar Chaplain EA (Eswaili Army)
Age: 122 (not counting sub-dimensional time)
Race: High Elf
Nationality: Esternian
Birthplace: Esternia
Profession: Junior High Priestess and Commissar Chaplain in Eswaili Army
Past Professions: Battlemage
Education: Private tutors, Nidtrin clergy
Languages Spoken: Esternian, Efrian, Eswaili
Birthday: Bellarus 15, 4948 AOI
Returned to plane: 2945 CE (Age 52)
Height/Weight: 5’2 / 95lbs
Physical Appearance Notes: High cheekbones, pointed chin, angularly pointed ears, porcelain skin, violet eyes, black hair, perky (but small compared to others in her profession) breasts
Gender/Orientation: Female / Bisexual
Deity/Alignment: Nidtrix / Chaotic Neutral
Lower High Priestess of Nidtrix
Magic Status and Aura: Miera specializes in psychomancy and kinetimancy. She is a major talent. Her aura is larger and distinguishable.
Family: Miera’s family is all long dead. Notably, her mother was also a Nidtrin and died for the cause during the Schism War. Miera’s family now is her sister priestesses in the religion.
Hobbies: Physical fitness, mori/skemaer (martial arts + magic sparring), mind games, sex, bondage, small talk in the religion, drinking
“Do you spar?” came a voice next to Olivia.
Olivia turned and hastily tried to drop into an appropriate bow to Lady Miera, who had been out on some important errand for Lady Thea until now it would seem.
“No need to bow,” Miera said, reaching out to take Olivia’s hand instead.
Olivia grasped it and Miera shook it. A mark of near-equals.
“Do you have to listen to me if I give you orders? Yes,” Lady Miera said. “But please don’t bow. I’ll accept head nods from the sub-commissars and clerics out of respect but bowing is for when people are watching. And that’s not here.”
Olivia nodded.
“So,” Miera said, cocking her head to one side in interest. “Do you spar?”
“A little bit,” Olivia said. “I learned a lot of the necessary stuff, but I’m not battlemage. They brought me into the commissar track because of my skills in pathomancy and because I can think quickly under pressure.”
“Care to spar with me and learn some stuff then?” Miera asked. “Just hand-to-hand?”
“Is that a thinly-veiled order?” Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow.
Miera chuckled. “I can see why Thea brought you in. No, though, it’s not an order, just a question.” Miera looked into the sparring ring. “I can see your Captain’s already training though.”
Olivia nodded.
“Do you have any specific orders at the moment, or are you at the liberty of acquainting yourselves?”
“The latter.”
“So, sparring?”
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2023 August 8
Moon Meets Jupiter
Credit & Copyright: Jordi L. Coy
Explanation: What's that below the Moon? Jupiter -- and its largest moons. Many skygazers across planet Earth enjoyed the close conjunction of Earth's Moon passing nearly in front of Jupiter in mid-June. The featured image is a single exposure of the event taken from Morón de la Frontera, Spain. The sunlit lunar crescent on the left is overexposed, while the Moon's night side, on the right, is only faintly illuminated by Earthshine. Lined up diagonally below the Moon, left to right, are Jupiter's bright Galilean satellites: Callisto, Ganymede, Io (hard to see as it is very near to Jupiter), and Europa. In fact, Callisto, Ganymede, and Io are larger than Earth's Moon, while Europa is only slightly smaller. NASA's robotic spacecraft Juno is currently orbiting Jupiter and made a close pass near Io only a week ago. If you look up in the night sky tonight, you will again see two of the brightest objects angularly close together -- because tonight is another Moon-Jupiter conjunction.
∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap230808.html
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