space doesn't actually work like that

anonymous asked:

how exactly are space and time entangled? How could time be defined? Many times I heard people who actually work with physics say that time is just an illusion (didn't feel like they were joking [???]), and then I hear about theories that say the more you'd approach to the speed of light, the slower time would pass. Things such as time doesn't pass to a proton. All I can think of it is Einstein's scene in Rick&Morty screaming I WILL MESS WITH TIME!!!!! I WILL MESS WITH TIME

This is really hard to imagine, but space and time are the same thing (as far as I understand); “space” has 3 dimensions - length, width, height - and time is essentially the 4th dimension. Time is an illusion in the sense that it’s not constant for everyone; time flows at different rates depending on the speed of the observer and whether or not they’re in a gravitational field.

What you’re referring to with speed affecting speed of time is the theory of relativity; you move faster through space and slower through time. And yes, you’re right that photons don’t experience time, since they’re traveling at the speed of light, which is the fastest obtainable speed. Relativity is really crazy and hard to wrap your mind around, so don’t panic if you’re having trouble understanding it. Feel free to hit me up if you’ve got any questions!!

she could not show him
the wilds of her winter heart -
he only loved warmth.

What your smash 4 main says about you
  • Mario: Thinks they're really good because of auto combos
  • Luigi: Either plays him as a joke or is in denial about the nerf
  • Peach: uwu pastel
  • Bowser: Likes Baras/Furries
  • Yoshi: Needs to stop
  • Rosalina: Waifu or space aesthetic
  • Bowser Jr: Doesn't exist
  • Wario: Really Gross
  • G & W: down throw, 9
  • Donkey Kong: Expand dong memers or takes full advantage of the ding dong
  • Diddy Kong: Hasn’t updated their game
  • Link: Big Zelda fan but actually terrible
  • Zelda: Also a big Zelda fan but not as terrible
  • Sheik: Copies what top players do
  • Ganondorf: Thinks they’re super funny
  • Toon Link: Similar to link but more Down airs
  • Samus: Struggles
  • ZSS: Similar to sheik but has to put in less work
  • Pit: Likes twinks
  • Palutena: Mom kink
  • Marth: Has played a fire emblem game aside from awakening
  • Ike: likes Yaoi
  • Robin: has only played awakening
  • Kirby: has played smash like 5 times or a toddler
  • Meta knight: misses brawl
  • Little mac: Laugh track
  • Fox: Furry or misses melee
  • Falco: misses melee more
  • Pikachu: Pure
  • Charizard: Gen 1 purest
  • Lucario: Neo Furry
  • Jigglypuff: wants to use rest but literally has no set ups into it
  • Greninja: Liked gen 1 but moved on
  • Duck Hunt: hates fun
  • ROB: Brawl ROB apologist
  • Ness: Thinks killing at 80 with a back throw is fair
  • Captain Falcon: Thinks they're really cool by “styling” on people. Always post their clips online
  • Villager: Literally the worst
  • Olimar: an endangered species
  • WFT: Kinkster
  • Doctor Mario: Listens to outdated melee tier lists
  • Dark Pit: EDGE
  • Lucina: Waifu
  • Shulk: Likes Xenoblade or likes old memes
  • Pac-Man: Has played the other pacman games
  • Mega Man: Suffers
  • Sonic: Wonders why everyone leaves the match on for glory
  • Mewtwo: gets combo’d really hard and dies at 80
  • Lucas: wants mother 3 to be localized more than life itself
  • Roy: my marth is on fire
  • Ryu: Likes eating dirt
  • Cloud: has most likely played kingdom hearts
  • Corrin: Doesn’t understand why people are mad that there are 6 fire emblem characters
  • Bayonetta: European


Don’t you know? Complaining about something without taking 2 seconds to google information about it is all the rage! A gay man writing a heartfelt, inclusive, and diverse gay dating sim doesn’t matter and is actually fake, bad representation because he got funding and office space from a youtube celebrity these people don’t like! It’s better to make things up like saying the game includes sexual assault to try and prove oneself right than to actually look into the contents of the media you’re complaining about!

"Making tumblr posts doesn't do shit. Go outside and actually do something if you care!"

Translation: “ Remove yourself from a space that gives you access to hundreds of thousands of people in ways that are still accessible to those who work or are disabled. I find it easier to ignore people like you offline. How about you make yourself more easily dismissible?" 

Creepypasta #532: Second After Second

​​The sound of the clock ticking keeps me awake most nights.

It doesn’t help that I put a scarf over it. It doesn’t help that I took the batteries out months ago. It just keeps ticking. Second after second.

I never used to mind the ticking. I never really noticed it. When he lived here, when he shared my bed, the soft sound of him breathing drowned out the other noises in the house. I wouldn’t get startled every time the house settled or a neighbor set their car alarm.

I could sleep back then.

But it’s been fifteen months and I don’t think I’ve slept a wink. My eyes close and when they open again, feeling as though morning must be right around the corner, only a single minute has passed. Sometimes two minutes, on a good night.

I thought about getting a night job. I applied all over town, but no one is hiring. I get rejection emails more frequently than I hear from my kids. I have had one call-back, but once they met me in person, they decided I ‘wasn’t what they were looking for.’ I wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, sure, but I could still clean houses or offices. I could still make someone’s space look presentable.

It isn’t about money - I still get his disability benefits. Survivor Benefits, the Social Security Office calls them. As if I lucked out and won something, by outliving the man I wanted to grow old with.

But instead of working, I lay in our bed and hug his pillow tightly. I haven’t washed it since that last night he laid down on it. I cannot stand the idea of losing his scent. After fifteen months, the pillow doesn't actually smell like him anymore, but I still pretend.

Sometimes I can dream for a few minutes - a half-awake, half-asleep mirage of images and sounds and lights.

I lie in bed, curled around his pillow, and I fall into one of these dreams.

I can hear him in the bathroom, shaving. He is humming something - a song from his Swing Jazz album. It’s a riotous tune, full of upswings and drop offs. I smile as I press my face into his pillow and catch the scent of him. Of his aftershave and medicated shampoo.

“Say, Dolly,” he calls from the bathroom, just as he did every morning. “You got a kiss waiting for me?” His voice is youthful and full of love.

“When don’t I?” I say back, just as I used to. I keep my eyes closed and let the waking dream wash over me. I allow myself to feel the steam floating into the room from the bathroom, muggy and stiffing from his hot shower. He always did take scalding showers - I never understood how he could handle the temperate.


“Hmm?” I hum. I feel my eyelashes scratching across the pillowcase.

“Don’t ya ever miss it?” I didn’t hear him enter the room, but he’s suddenly there, sitting beside me, the weight of his hand on my hip.

I raise my head slightly off his red-tinged pillow, so old it’s now turned into a brownish, ruddy stain. “Miss what?” I ask softly. I don’t dare open my eyes in case it ends the dream.

“Me,” he replies. His voice is the epitome of remorse.

“Every day,” I whisper, nearly choking on the sob that tries to rip itself from my mouth. “Every second.”

“Why won’t you join me?”

He has never asked this before. Why won’t I join him? I suppose because I was born and raised Catholic, and taking your own life was never promoted. I suppose because the children might still need me. They were only just out of the house - one was twenty-three and the youngest twenty-one. What if they lose their jobs or their apartments? Where would they go?

“Don’t you love me?”

“Like the ocean loves the moon,” I say. He said that to me when we first laid together, wrapped up in an old blanket under the stars, our love warm and thick like the Louisiana summer sky.

He chuckles and I feel his breath, so warm on my neck, his fingers at my scalp. “I’ve missed running my hands through your hair. I’ve missed singing to you.” He hums and his soulful voice makes my tears slip past my closed eyes.

“All you’d have to do, love, is bring the razor along your throat,” he murmurs, and I feel his finger trace over my throat. “That beautiful ebony throat. Damn, Dolly, I’ve missed kissing it.”

I open my mouth to agree. I open my mouth to beg him to take me with him. Up to Heaven. To whatever was after this… this dreary wasted grey life without him.

My fingers curl around his pillowcase and I feel it, grimy and unwashed, against my palm. The pillowcase, still stained in blood after all this time. Stained from when he drew a straight razor across his own throat fifteen months ago.

I gasp a little, and I smell something else. Something not like Albert. Something….

“Remember the mariachi band at that Mexican restaurant?” I whisper. “Our first date?”

He moans softly and chuckles - the laugh is too rich, too deep. “Yes, mon amour. Take the razor.” He’s pressing something hard against my hand.

“Remember the last football game of the season?” I ask. I can’t open my eyes. I just can’t. “How the stands were empty except for you and I. Our team having lost every other game, no one bothered to show?”

“Yes, mon amour. Take the razor.” More insistent this time.

The smell of sulfur is growing stronger. “Remember when Abby was born?” I continue. My cheeks are so wet I don’t know how I’m not drowning in my tears.

Yes, mon amor. Take the razor!

I take a deep breath and wrap my hand around the razor. “That’s odd. Because we never had a daughter.” I open my eyes and lash out with the razor and it sinks deep into his neck - the same way he had done to himself all those months, days, seconds ago.

Black, thick tar-smoke bellows out of the cut I’d made and he only laughs. “I suppose I’ll have to try harder next time, won’t I, Dolly?”

The demon fades in a rush of sulfur and the clock ticks back, louder than before, second after second.

Credits to: Neepha_Pheepan

freshzombiewriter  asked:

ok ok ok so i know that you like nsp lore. so do i. therefore i submit to you that I Just Want To (Dance) is actually chronologically the last nsp song; taking place after ninja brian has died and danny took on brian's ninja mantle, but is now giving it up. i can explain further, but the ask doesn't have enough space

please reblog this and add more……. i must know how this theory works

Is this the Starz community manager’s attempt at being like “Hey guys! I know how to internet!” Because really? It’d be better if you, ya know, promoted the shit out of the bluray release. Or teased special features. Or do anything that literally any semi-qualified community manager would be doing if they wanted to scrape by doing the bare minimum of their job…

And now, a brief look at the real, actual, in no way gifs from Office Space, work day of the Starz social media team.