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@celestialblackhole
This person needs to be arrested im going to cry
How do you go through all the effort of setting up a sous vide to do this????
never tell me that magic isnt real ever again when this is clear evidence of a person transmogrifing Meat into Wood
i can transmogrify meat into wood by lookin at pictures of titties if ya get what im sayin
hey, we all love tiddies here but this person has perpetrated a crime against nature and we need you stay focused
I am asking you to endure it.
a lot of Gregory Berrycones in the notes missing the reference to my twelve note magnum opus from several hours prior in which the narrator silently begs an entity that isn't really God for death and the entity says no
the narrator is operating under the constraint that they can only use words "god" has already spoken, "god" is aware of this and says the 'Time flies' sentence on purpose in order to give the narrator the pieces they need to voice their complaint; "god" has constant access to the narrator's thoughts, and answers them as though they're having a conversation between equals, but clearly absolutely dictates the terms under which the narrator can speak. it becomes obvious as the scene continues that the narrator is silently screaming and that the request being denied may be a request for death, but is at minimum a request for some acute suffering to be stopped
this could be an interaction between a normal person and an evil telepath with some mind control ability pretending to be the voice of a benevolent god. or it could work as a demon lord speaking to a soul they've trapped in a mirror and keep at their side. or it could be an actual god trying to calm down their only believer because they're trapped in the same prison. the concept amused me so kindly forgive the ugliness of the execution
Posts that altered the fabric of the universe
My mom likes to tell me about how when I was a little kid riding public transport with her I'd always smile and giggle and chat with weird old ladies who smelled like cat pee and homeless folks and strangers dressed in bizarre outfits but any time a tidy and respectable businessman in a suit and tie waved at me I'd immediately clam up, and she takes a great deal of pride in my supposed inherentability to clock personalities but the truth is I do vaguely remember those bus rides, and it was never about the clothes or the hair or the smell, but more because everyone "strange" asked interesting questions and listened to what I had to say and seemed to think about what I said while the neat and tidy and rigid folks only ever acted like they were going through the motions, which was boring as hell and also pretty annoying
Well-to-do finance manager with tidy shoes: "Why hello, sweetheart. Can you say 'hi'? Aren't you cute. Are you on a trip with your mom?"
4 year old me: why must we do this
Fantastic old woman in the leopard print coat: "Why yes, my tooth IS real silver! Nobody ever asks me that. Do you like cats?"
4 year old me, suddenly paying attention: Finally, A Person Of Intellect
Imagine a bee rn in a hive muttering "the beekeeper is not real because he is not intervening or helping me at all with this disastrous relationship I have with another bee". now imagine that's you talking about the good lord. now imagine a dog with a propeller hat on
Filing this in my memory right next to this thread:
is anyone imagining a dog with a propeller hat on
Wacky Packages stickers - Topps (1979 reissue)
Wow, I hadn't heard of these!
"Known affectionately among collectors as Wacky Packs, the Topps stickers that parodied well-known consumer brands were a phenomenon in the 1970s―even outselling the Topps Company’s baseball cards for a while. But few know that the genius behind it all was none other than Art Spiegelman―the Pulitzer Prize–winning graphic novelist who created Maus." -this book
Names that are normal for old people but weird when you're a baby:
Bartholomew
Dolores
Norman
Harold
Magnolia
Names that are normal for babies but weird when you're old:
Maddison
Tanner
Skylar
Mckenzie
Logan
Names that are normal for old people and normal for babies:
Elizabeth
Mary
Michael
Finnegan
Peter
Names that are weird when you're a baby and weird when you're old:
Radish
Kerosene
Australopithecus
Anthill
Hegemony
Names that are weird when you're normal:
Balthazar
Romulus
Clandestia
Persephone
Kremulon
Names that are normal when you're weird:
Al
How do you know you're not Asexual? Maybe you just haven't met the right nobody.
Not allowing this one to hide in the tags
How people get nicknames:
Recipient of a third-degree burn in front of witnesses. IE, "I won't take that shit from a man dressed like a ghostbuster"= "Gostbuster" or "Buster"
A distinctive personal feature or quirk. IE, "Have you noticed how that new guy is always eating bell peppers?" = "Peppers", or "That chick has a massive forehead" = "Forehead".
An embarrassing thing you said or did. IE, "Did you seriously call Dale "Dad"?" = "Junior", "Baby boy", "Sport"
A game of name-mutation telephone. IE, "Donny Clyde" = "Bonnie 'n' Clyde" = "Bonnie" = "Bon-bon".
Irony. IE, calling a tall person "short stack" or a particularly dour person "sunshine".
A 'wrong place wrong time' one-off incident. IE, "He spilled oil on his pants and had to borrow a pair that were way too big and Jim saw him with the waistband pulled up to his nipples and called him 'Parachute'"
A batman-style origin story but not in a cool way: "One time she hit a deer with the company car and when she called the boss to tell her she was crying so hard we thought she was dying" = "Bambi"
The incredibly rare 'admiration' nickname, bourne only once a millennia under the light of the blood moon: "We saw him lift a truck once so now we call him 'iron man'"
+ How Nicknames Stick:
Your fate is determined by The Counsel
You hate it
It's accurate
This reminds me of an article about how callsigns in movies are inaccurate because they're too cool. Generally your callsign in the military is like "Bepis" because you once pronounced "Pepsi" wrong.
^^^
look, if i catch sight of a mutual's unfortunately popular post in the wild dragging their flailing body behind it, i am obligated to smack that pony's ass and send them for another round of the pasture. i'm sorry, it's nothing personal, but it's in my contract
...yeah that's fair
Posting this iconic piece of media that I just NEVER found online isolated except in an archived reddit thread
They’ve been rebuilding the Tower of Babel, but this time they have a team of linguists on site. Every time God smites the builders and invents a dozen new languages, the linguists have a dozen decently sized translations in about a month and work can start up again.
The linguists have been really into it. They say the new phonemes are fascinating. As for God, I assume that at this point he’s just curious to see how far this goes.
To keep us on out toes, God gives the next group of builders an extra place of articulation called the flongus between the pharynx and the glottis, creating an entire new column of the IPA chart with sounds between sounds that are literally physiologically impossible for non-flongled people to replicate.
Improved symbols for the flongal plosives ("gacks"), flongal trill ("hacks"), flongal fricatives ("groans"), and and the flongal lateral approximant ("moans")
Update: The builders have now simply switched to communicating entirely through a universal sign language like they should've done to start with. No sounds need be spoken, flongal or otherwise. The Tower steadily rises. Be seeing you soon, God, you little bitch.
update: the builders are all speaking different sign languages now
I was feeling agitated and artblocked yesterday so I decided to give my brain a rest by watching TV and then the next thing I knew these were in front of me
phineas and ferb heritage post
learning a new instrument from a single teacher is so funny bc that's your point of reference for a while until you start branching out a little. was talking to a specialist in irish music history about my early irish harp lessons and i was like "it's a good thing i have strong fingernails so i don't have to get acrylics to play" and he was like "you're playing with your fingernails?" and i was like "yeah my teacher said that's how you play" and he was like "that's how irish harp players used to play like 1,000 years ago. i don't know anyone who plays with their fingernails now. even in the 1700s at a harp festival we have record of just one guy playing with his fingernails."
i guess he can't say no one is playing like this anymore bc at least my teacher is but this is why when ur new to something u can't walk around assuming you have all the facts. thought i was learning harp like usual meanwhile my teacher is an extremely dedicated medieval reenactor.
Most 'out of left field' way to discover someone is a vampire
I Defeated the Demon Lord but it Turns Out the Demon Army was Largely Unaffected and I Fell Victim to a Flawed Belief in Great Man Theory
I Executed The Demon Lord With One Flawless Strike And After A Brief Power Struggle The New Demon Government Is Substantially More Committed To The War Because Of Some Reason I Don't Know
I'm a Rando in a Medieval Fantasy World And It Turns Out I Can't Invent Anything Because I Don't Know Much About Science
I'm a Scientist in Another World but the Laws of Physics Work Differently Here and this Crazy Universe Doesn't Even Run on Math
I Tried to Become a Fantasy World Cook but People Who Have Eaten Bland Food Their Entire Lives Can't Tolerate Spice
I Slayed the Demon King but it was a Ceremonial Role with No Political Power
I Isekaied to Another World and the Locals Had No Resistance to My Diseases. The Demon King Died of the Common Cold but So Did Everyone Else.
love arranged marriage unfortunately. the idea of being married to a knight who's not even in the city, but away on the front lines. it's a benefit for your family, so they dont even question sending you to his home to await his return...
you meet him three months into the arrangement. He arrives after the sun has already set, his features set strong in the candlelight. His body is heavy with exhaustion and tension, his eyes dull and tired.
you've grown to hate this place, this castle gifted to him for war victories. The halls are barren, the garden yet to bloom. The maids are pleasant, but they keep their distance, as if you'll strike. Maybe your husband is the kind to hit. You wouldn't know.
When he looks at you, it's only in short bursts, his eyes suddenly low. There's a long stretch of silence between you and you consider introducing yourself, but decide against it. He knows who you are.
"The maid is drawing me a bath," he says suddenly and a sick feeling pours over you. This day was always coming, but you aren't sure you're ready to lay under a stranger.
"Am I expected to join?" you ask and his nose crinkles.
"No." He steps back and away. His departure is brisk and driven. You retire for the night by yourself and awake alone. Your husband is set to leave again in a few hours; a few soldiers have already gathered in the front garden.
"Don't you wish to give your new wife a goodbye?" one asks, unaware of your open window. "One night and you've already had your fill? Or has she been filled too much?"
"I refuse to believe she is real!" says another. "What kind of woman has worn down our brute and turned him into a family man? Should we expect a gaggle of children in the upcoming year?"
Your husband growls. "You will leave the poor lamb alone. She suffers enough."
That softens you. Just a bit. You rise from you bed and go to the window, leaning out enough to catch the men's attention.
"Until next time."
He watches you, expression caught between more emotions that you can count, then turns his gaze back to his mount. The two men share a look, wide, wide grins on their faces.
"Until next time," he repeats back.
In his absence, he sends gifts. They are tiny things, sweets and oiled combs and scented oils and a porcelain figure of a cat, aimless in their direction towards you. Just simple niceties he could give to any woman in the world. You imagine he sends one to the lovers he has in every city as well.
(he must have lovers, you imagine. He hasn't touched you; he must be getting his fill with women in other cities, maybe women he actually loves. these are trinkets to keep his wife amused while she wastes away.)
none of the gifts come with a note.
one day a bolt of fabric arrives, yellow and ornate. It's only a small amount, not enough to make a dress, but enough for you to unravel and admire. It's beautiful and clearly expensive, golden threads woven into flowers and vines. Your father was a silk merchant; while you never wore the silks, you can recognize their quality.
the following week, the delicious man rides up on his steeds and presents a letter. The handwriting is rough. Knights that come from the lower class do not have the schooling of highborns; as fair as you know, your husband was born a street rat and worked his way theough the ranks to glory.
-I have been told by my secund that I did not send you enuf fabric for a gown. I do not no these things.
The spelling mistakes screw a smile out of you.
"Wait a moment." You stop the boy before he can leave. "I wish to send something back."
You take your time and use your finest calligraphy, tucking your note in with a handkerchief you had spent the week on. It's fine work-- one that would please even the hardest of hearts.
-Dearest husband,
Please take this handkerchief as a sign of my thoughts.
Your patient and thoughtful wife
A second letter arrives within the week.
-are you cros with me? A scrap of fabric for a scrap of fabric?
The response is what makes you cross. The poor messenger boy has to stay the night while you percolate over a response.
-Dearest, sweetest husband,
A handkerchief is a traditional gesture of affection. I have embroidered the edges by hand, with your family name and your roses, and it smells of my perfume. It is a piece of me for you to carry. If you do not appreciate my kindness or if you think it will turn away your lovers, you may return it. I do not wish it wasted on you.
Your less than patient and less than adoring wife
The poor boy scatters off in the morning and returns a few days later.
tortured wife,
I wil cherish it. I am sory, pour lam. I wil do better.
your loving husband
Yeah man, this wizard sleepover is cozy. I just saw a guy gently clap his hands together and say "hot beverage conjuration" or something, and suddenly everyone was holding a perfect mug of their favorite warm drink in their hands. Nobody who was already sleeping even woke up, that's how cozy it is. I'm over here casting pillow and level 2 pyjamas. I think I just heard "power word: blanket fort" two groups over. I gotta get in there.
