Deep Space Missions
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@mumbleugh
Deep Space Missions
God said I’m going to heaven because I’ve never watched a jeffrey star video
Concept: a bunch of high school Satanists get drunk in the local graveyard and try to conjure a demon, but they’re using one of those “reconstructionist” ritual books that gets its sources all mixed up, so they end up with a minor Mithraic fertility spirit that hasn’t spoken with humans in like 1700 years instead. By the terms of its binding it’s not allowed to leave until it’s ensured a successful harvest for its summoners, which is a problem, because none of these goobers have ever raised so much as a houseplant; if it wants to go home, it’s going to have to teach them how to garden - whether they want to learn or not!
“Five high school sophomores were arrested today on charges of operating an illegal pot growing business behind the Home Depot on I-95. The 200-foot-tall plants, which police could see from their station…”
ARE YOU A BONE OR BLOOD PERSON.
ARE YOU A VOID OR ABYSS PERSON.
ARE YOU A ROT OR DUST PERSON.
tumblr glitched and decided to display this post with a slight tremor and i thought i was hallucinating but i managed to record it
im bout to trigger yalls fight or flight reflexes
“i baked you a pie”
“oh boy! what flavor?”
this didn’t trigger my fight or flight reflex it just made me yearn for a simpler, more innocent time
wanna know what mental image just crept into my brain?
a clown funeral where the pallbearers accidentally drop the casket and like fifteen dead clowns fall out
max garcia here gets it
Honestly it didn’t make me truly laugh until Darth Vader came tootling tooting out and then I lost it.
WHAT IS THIS OH MY GOD
I’m just gonna add this:
Okay I need to ask. Why do YOU write?
I grew up surrounded by words in quite veryliteral sense. By the time I was six months old my parents had taped words to every surface in the house. So the walls said “wall” the window said “window” and so on so forth. I still don’t know how they managed to get the cat involved (she had a sign that said Cat) but some things in life are meant to be wondered at.
But for the next six years the world was covered in words, as first I learned to read, and then my brother. I dare say if you move some furniture in my parents house to this day you will find a faded piece of paper that says “shelf” or “bookcase” on it. It was a sad day when they were taken down, they were like old friends. But by then the magic had already worked. I was able to look at the world and see words, whether they were printed there or not.
I was four when I sat down to consciously write my first story. I remember it vividly because I had my bright yellow Cadburys Caramel mug, that had the purple flowing font on the side with the bunny rabbit lady on it. It was filled with “baby tea”— which is mostly hot milk with a splash of tea from the pot to give it color— and I was holding it in both hands, sitting at the little “art” table dad had built for me in the corner so I had a place to sit and scribble that wasn’t the walls. Contemplating my next masterpiece I looked around the room for inspiration. Would it be an exploration of color through pinky finger painting only? Or would it be the greatest macaroni interpretation of a dog we’d ever seen? Sadly we’ll never know how this might have worked out, as at that very moment, mum came in holding a crystal mobile and hung it up on the window sill. This in turn had the effect of creating a living, dancing rainbow in the living room, and something in my brain short fused.
That was the day I learned the word “iridescent”. It was like learning the language of angels.
After that I was always scribbling something. My school books were a mess of words, crammed into margins and on back pages. I was always in trouble for letting my mind “wander into whimsy.” Once I got a report card that said “fantastical leanings towards flights of fancy.” It was meant as criticism, but dad still has it framed in the office.
Then there came the time a few years later when I was reading the Hobbit with dad, and I turned to him quite seriously and asked “where are all the girl hobbits?” and dad hemmed and hawed before eventually telling me “they’re in another book, darling…having their own adventure…” and I accepted this and settled back down to let him finish the chapter. He probably thought I forgot about it until that weekend I marched up to the Librarian and asked for “the girl hobbit book please”, which was met with much confusion and my dad rushing over to tell me they probably wouldn’t have it yet because it was very rare. A few weeks later, dad handed me something. It was sheaves of paper bound together by string. It was, he told me, a very exclusive copy of the girl hobbit book.
I still have it somewhere, back home. Probably on a shelf somewhere that still says “shelf”.
And sweet, naive thing that I was, I believed him. It wasn’t until later on and someone else popped my bubble, that I realized dad, not Tolkien, had written it. And oh I was furious, furious because the story had been so good and because dad had lied about not writing it himself. But that small bubbling anger was nothing compared to the heat inside my brain when my dad confessed he’d tried without much success to find books I might like with girls in them. All the heroes were boys, you see. It made me quite tearful actually, that no one had ever thought that someone like me could go off on an adventure and save the world, when I knew it to be a blatant lie. Old Mrs McDougall across the street had been a land girl and saved a man shot down from his spitfire. Mrs Mitchell had been the emergency coordinator and saved people from burning buildings when the Nazis bombed the shipyards, and her skin was all bubbled and tightly pulled across the left side of her face because of it and her hands didn’t quite work because she’d gripped burning metal to try and free the men inside. Those, were heroes. But we never learned about them at school. We only learned about kings and tyrants and the kind of heavily filtered history that lead you to believe that women were in there somewhere, but only in the same sense that a wall has paint on it.
And now my books, my lovely wonderful books, where you could travel through space and time or climb up volcanoes to throw rings inside and save the world…those wonderful colorful worlds that spoke the language of angels, were just the same.
I was ready to cry and be defeated about it until dad, raising his eyebrows at me and offering me a notebook, said, “well, maybe someone ought to write one.”
And you likely know the rest by now. But in short I write because there are stories to be told. I write because it’s the closest I’ll ever be to how the word iridescent feels. I look at the world and I see words, dancing like rainbows, singing like angels.
There’s words everywhere. I’m just scribbling them down as fast as I can.
For the person who saw this on Pinterest and wanted to reblog from the source, here you go <3
They Look 10x Scarier.
Wavy
Yeah, this is scary lol especially the amoeba
This is So Dope
This is a rim job…
This is eating ass…
Know the difference.
this is jesus. follow him
Does he want his ass ate?
you know he do
FANGIRL CHALLENGE [4/?] male characters » NINTH DOCTOR “You were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And you know what? So was I.”
Lmao
modern art
Okay, at this point there has to be something wrong with me, right? I’ve watched this 20 times in the last half hour, I still don’t know what they are saying half the time, but it doesn’t seem to matter because i’ve been crying my eyes out laughing for the entire last half hour …
what the fuck is this from i gotta know
it’s called letterkenny and it’s about a man who gets dumped and then goes on to shirk his pacifism and reclaim and hold his title as the toughest dude in the rural town of letterkenny ontario. every episode cold opens like this in increasingly bizarre ways.
I read the bit about not being able to parse what’s being said and then I read the bit about it being set in this fuckin province, and I thought, like, what kind of accent could they possibly use that was so incomprehensible while still setting it in northern goddamn Ontario? and actually, okay, you know what, despite having lived immersed in it my entire life I’m not sure i’ve ever seen this exact accent on tv before, it is just weird to see actors using it
My cousins grew up with the guy who wrote this show and is the main actor. It’s scary accurate for hick town Ontario (it’s based on the town of Listowel) and apparently some of the characters are based so closely on real people that they’ve recognized themselves while watching.
ARE YOU GONNA FIGHT IN THOSE SHADES OR PLAY POKER STARS DOT COM
Distribute some free literature.
I lived near Ontario in rural NY and we picked up this sort of similar affect. It’s so scary how true-to-life this is in that area of the contintent
I’m just gonna leave a link to season one episode one right here…
annnnnnd here’s all of season one
annnnnnnnnnnnnnd all of season two
Don’t say I never did anything for ya. Enjoy glorious Canadian humor.
Yessssssssss.
As a guy who is also from rural southern Ontario, I can confirm that this is exactly what it is like. I had an existential moment and had to lay on the floor for a while after a friend showed me Letterkenny for the first time because it was literally like looking back at all of the douchebags I knew in high school.
this is some subtly wild camera work
also i…. wasn’t expecting to understand it perfectly but there y’are I guess
It has returned
watching any action movie after seeing Fury Road
With these upgrades they never stood a chance
Seeing videos like this makes me realize that we do truly have to integrate ourselves with technology or else we will be burned a fucking live by our on creations.
Okay so Tolkien’s universe has Magical Objects, yes?
The Palantirs, Feanorian Lights, Silmarils, the Lamps, the Trees, the dragon helm, Beleg’s bow, Turin’s sword, the elfstone/elessar….ect. With cool functions like health-preserving.
These is cool af but my guess is they are NOT EASILY MADE or made on the first try. So there must be worse, trial attempts at Magic Objects. And just really lackluster ones.
So, I propose:
Seashell that slightly amplifies your ability to hear crabs scratching things
Goblet that was intended to be poison detecting, but was not successful and instead just makes a high pitched hiss whenever it contains anything but pure water
Jacket that’s basically a normal jacket but keeps you a little bit warmer than the fabric usually would
Ankle bracelet that was supposed to protect against breaks but instead just freezes up your joint for a few minutes at any random time
Shirt that does not need a hot iron to get the wrinkles out, but can rather function perfectly fine with a lukewarm iron
Circular glass that, when looked through, makes red objects appear more pink but otherwise changes nothing
Hairbrush that was supposed to sing but instead just makes a low moan noise once a day
Cloak that makes the wearer 1% less likely to encounter a bee swarm
Blanket that keeps dog hair from sticking to it, if and only if the hair comes from a dog whose 4 grandparents were all born under a full moon
Ear ring that was supposed to tingle when someone in another room says your name, but instead just vibrates slightly in response to loud noises
Paint that does not stain fabric, but only works when the fabric itself is inside someones mouth
Just. Shitty half-rank magical elf objects.
My friends are probably really glad I’m not a DM because I would totally use these in a D&D game to troll them.
Artist : Aedel Fakhrie