i’m obsessed with the thought of boromir smoking with the hobbits and getting absolutely fucking blasted

Boromir: man this edible aint shit

1 hr later:

reblog to bonk the person you reblogged it from with a hollow cardboard tube

why is this written like it's trying to hypnotize me into making a batch of caramelized onions, and more importantly, why is it working

but the soul within is a colossus

I know a guy exactly like this hold on

I bet octopuses think bones are horrific. I bet all their cosmic horror stories involve rigid-limbs and hinged joints.

To an octopus, a human is like a thinking being with blood-stained coral growing inside it.

I need to sit down and breathe into a bag for a while.

Its parts were obscenely limited in their movement. Each hinge could open or close only a small amount before reaching its limit, yet by working in concert they demonstrated unexpected dexterity, moving and manipulating the objects before it with cunning equal to my own. It was more torso than limb, as though a seal had been stretched and warped, given long grasping tentacles filled with bones like bars of coral.  It’s head was most horrid of all, flat and ovoid, jutting out too small from the trunk as though it belonged to a beast half its size.

The thing rose upon its lowermost appendages, two long trunks that ended in flat, protruding flippers that branched into stubby, grasping mockeries of a sucker. It’s triple-hinged uppermost limbs were similar, but the ends branched into five smaller tentacles, each with three hinges of their own.

I froze, as the thing’s gaze fell upon me and it opened its hideous fish-jaw, filled with thick, many-shaped teeth like white shards of stone, and spoke in a shrill, discordant babble. I felt its horrid dry grip on my flesh, as those hinged appendages closed on me like the legs of a crab.

I felt the heat of its body, tasted its noxious, oily flesh through my touch, and prepared for the end, and all went black as a swoon overtook me.

I awoke, some time later, the cold and comforting water, banished back to the comfort of the sea and the dark. I should be grateful I am alive. I should cast aside the experience like a half-remembered dream.

I shall never again go swimming in search of lights above. The last thing I recall before the darkness took me was my right eye popping free of the thing’s grasp enough to see into the distance for one brief moment.

I saw thousands of lights.

turned everything I have installed off to see what pure vanilla tumblr looks like right now and man. I just can't fathom letting your website look like this

silly haha intrusive marketing gimmicks like having the one piece clown stuck to the page is not a bit you get to do when I have to have adblock & two different other peripheral extensions installed to be able to navigate the front page

Illustrations by Steve R Dodd

are you unemployed? has it been a while since youve thought about killing yourself? dont worry, indeed dot com can change one of those things

Actually your society is the freaks for shooting everything that moves and burning half your "nature reserves" every year so that upperclass dandies can eat leaded pheasant. North Americans are the well adjusted ones here, your country has become a desolate suburban lawn in island form

this really does live rent free in my head

it’s friday cunts, let’s crack open a modelo!

tumblr tabs if they didn't suck

saw someone misspell "stochastic terror" as "socratic terror" so I'd like to clarify that stochastic terror is the public demonization of a person or group resulting in the incitement of a violent act that seems random but is not, while "socratic terror" is what every athenian felt when they went down to the agora in the 5th century and saw an old man with a beard approaching them

when my mutuals horny post: aww you're so sweet

when boss horny posts: HELLO, HUMAN RESOURCES?

I actually like that all media is now created to be thoughtlessly consumed within a single alloted month before it's destroyed by business guys whose stated favourite book is a dingy unread copy of The Art of War they left on their bedside to "reference". it's cool that everything is just one middling budget twelve episode season and half of it is dropped all at once directly onto streaming services so you have to sit down for six miserable hours to watch it in the most antisocial way possible. this is probably how art was meant to be consumed. this is how humans best process things, like death.

I let it all pass over me like a limp breeze. did I see the new show? oh no, and I suppose I will not, but that's okay because I don't feel much of anything at all about it. [pleasantly] I don't feel much of anything at all.

Illya