I wanna see it untame itself and break its owner. Icon by ishdaj and banner by halizumab
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our house... in the middle of our leaves¹
¹This is a humourous riff on the lyrics to the song "Our House" by the English ska-pop band, Madness. "Our House" is considered a working class anthem, which contrasts the bourgeoisie lifestyle of the Navidson family.²
²Alright, while the music stuff is factually correct it's still a huge stretch to connect the song and the family this way. Sometimes a corny joke is just a corny joke.
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a middle aged white guy named Blake Pontiac just saved christmas in a small rural American town and they are turning him into a new constellation
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I read through 17.7 and 17.8, and then had to stop, and couldn't continue until I'd drawn this.
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Bitch that’s the tubby custard machine 😂 *image depicts a vast monstrous infernal engine using hundreds of spiderlike arms of black iron to shove the writhing bodies of naked, emaciated humans into its blazing maw*
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me getting silly in the pussy if im being honest ?
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a fascinating new addition to tumblr's christmas pantheon
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They're replacing Santa claus with Laoganma Chilli Crisp this year
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WIBTA for taking advantage of my boss’ possible manic episode?
I know this already sounds bad but hear me out.
So I (30M) am the sole employee of this guy (62M) who’s honestly just a miserable boss and an even more miserable person. It sucks so bad working for him—the pay is horrendous, he’s verbally abusive, and the working conditions are awful (in the winter I literally have to stay bundled up the whole work day because he refuses to put the heat on in the office). He wouldn’t even give me holidays off if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s basically nothing to do those days because everywhere else is closed. I’m almost positive he unironically thinks poor people should die if they can’t work. His nephew (aka his only living relative and just the nicest guy) came by yesterday to invite him to Christmas dinner and he told him he’d see him in hell.
I cannot stress this enough—it’s BAD. I’d quit, but it’s been hard finding a better job and I’ve got four kids at home, including one with special needs.
Anyway, so here’s where I’m wondering if I’d be the asshole. Today was Christmas Day and he showed up at my house out of nowhere (huge red flag, I know). At first I thought he’d forgotten I had the day off and he was here to chew me out, which was worrying enough, but then his whole demeanor changed and he was super happy and excited and talking about how he was going to raise my salary. He even mentioned possibly making me a partner in the firm.
Now if that was it, I’d feel a little weird about the suddenness of it but it’d be fine. I’m not going to complain about having more money to feed my family. But then he started talking about how he wanted to pay our mortgage off. He talked about wanting to pay for our son to get the very expensive medical care that’s probably going to save his life. He mentioned at one point that he was going to be donating a huge amount of money to charity too—I knew he was rich but it staggered me. All this from a guy who doesn’t (didn’t?) even want to turn on the heat or the lights because it costs too much money.
It was such a sudden and drastic change that happened very literally overnight and now I’m kind of concerned he’s having a manic episode or something. I really, really want to accept his sudden generosity (I probably will; my wife is all for it and thinks he owes it to us), and I would love to believe that he’s truly had a sudden change of heart (an actual Christmas miracle lol) but I’m just worried about the possible consequences of accepting huge financial gifts like this from someone who I believe might be experiencing some kind of break from reality. Even if there’s nothing legally wrong with it, I’m worried about the ethics of it.
TLDR, my asshole boss might be in the middle of a mental breakdown. WIBTA if I accepted his offer to pay off my mortgage and my son’s medical expenses?
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Oh I didnt know if you’d do elder scrolls characters but can you make dagoth ur?
i made dagoth ur from the elder scrolls in dress to impress
thanks for the request!
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BMW's concept car: give it a carussy and a gear shift that looks like a clit. men aren't gonna know how to drive this thing
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"You saw it?"
"For a second. Yeah. I saw one."
"Start at the beginning."
"Hoo. Okay. Uhhh... It was 77. I think. I was air force. Or, hypnoengineering support staff contracted to help out around St. Louis."
"That's how you came into your supply of JVH-1"
"It was JVH-11 actually, and yeah, the fuckin, uh- the requisitions officer at Scott was an old buddy of mine. We used to fuck around in college before I, you know-"
"Yes I understand."
"I worked records for Sears-Roebuck, I had all the accounting expertise, as well as a ready supply of LSD."
"How did you start?"
"Oh it was easy at first. Really just selling off phials of the new experimental stuff to finance guys. They'd go nuts for the stuff, pay top dollar for it too. Hell, I could get 100$ for a milliliter. Made it easy to keep my contacts bought in and re-invested. Honestly I don't think the req office would even know that we were skimming if they weren't in on it.
But, you know how it is with hypnoregulation. Transchronological market data is worth it's weight in diamond. It started with the odd photo of a 2q-week readout, then biometric data, then, uh- then. Well, we decided to try it ourselves."
"You attempted full sub-finantial emmanation?"
"No no god no, what're you nuts? No, see. We figured if one person can meld their brain with the market, we just had to get as close as we could to that guy, and mark the twain, hypnologically speaking."
"Mark the twain?"
"Yeah, see, okay. A plutophant in full emmanation isn't like us. We exist at a single point in time, an R1 rational market actor. But they exist in multiple points in time, back in 77, I think the government could hit R6 with that analogue tech. Most people can hit R2 with a single hit of JVH-1, with practice you can hit R3, but anything higher than R3 takes a pretty serious support team. But here's the thing, I had a whole cadre of co-implicated members of a military grade hypnoengineering support team. All we needed was the space."
"The warehouse. Schaeffer Marble and Tile was it?"
"Bingo. See here's the thing. You know why the government had to start building those special regulation temples? It's not just for security. Once you crack the R6 barrier, Plutophants start leaving what's called a wake. You know, like a fuckin, uh, like a boat. They're imperceptible to normal people, but if you have sensitive enough instruments or, say, a person in the edge of sub-market emmanation.
See the government didn't know at the time, but if you balanced the drugs just right, and kept someone right on the edge of R4, you could actually read the plutophant's interpretations by their wake rather than their direct neurofeedback. It's not nearly as precise, but if you have a good team and you know what to look for, you can get some really, really valuable market data that way."
"And your co-worker?"
"You mean Mills? Fuck. Yeah...Mills. Right."
"Take your time."
"No, no I'm good. It's... It's uh, It's dangerous. Brains aren't meant to take that much JVH-11 all at once. We could stay on R4, but what we didn't have was a recovery team, or a medical team, or recon team. It was me, Mills, Israel, Connaught, and Marsh. The five of us were the only ones in the soup. Bruso was running the machines and Lasker was monitoring the readout."
"Can you tell us what happened?"
"Yeah. Yeah. It was a normal intrusion. Hypnogrid emmanation is pretty simple with our tech and support. Sedation was all green, hypnoinduction was green. Smooth as silk. Landed about 40 minutes from our work location. We had the codes from the IRSAW people that morning, all we had to do was maintain hypnoinduction for 40 minutes while traversing the colon and we'd be able to-"
"I'm sorry, colon?"
"Oh come on. Colon. Collective Unconscious. Col-Un. Colon."
"I- of course. Continue."
"Hey, have you ever been on a dive before?"
"Can we focus on your statement?"
"It's important. I need to know if this next bit is gonna make sense to you or not."
"I've undergone basic anti-intrusion training standard for IRS investigation task force officers."
"So you've done safe dives. White room? Castle training? Putting up the wall? All that jazz?"
"That's correct."
"Did they ever tell you why it's dangerous to perform off-site hypnoincursion in meta-unstsble hypnospace?"
"They did."
"Well they're lying...don't look at me like that. I'm not bullshitting you. They're lying...there's...there's shit out there okay? There's things out there."
"Mills?"
"Yeah. Mills. Uh..."
"Take your time."
"Yeah yeah. Quit interruptin me. Mills... Uh, yeah so we were T-Plus 30 into the dive. Bruso gives us a heads up that some hypnoflora is headed our way, but can't get a read on mass. Says we should steer clear, but we are so close. Israel had handled some hypnoflora before, so we weren't worried. But it was... I dunno. I can't explain."
"Do your best."
"Like. Okay. Meta-unstsble dives are fucked. They're acid trips. The St. Louis hypnoscape already doesn't look normal, but Scott Base looked like some kinda bastard lovechild of a medieval castle and a seashell, all twisting up into itself. The streets were a chessboard, and all the streetlights we're these tall kinda mannequin lookin' things holding a tiny sun in their hand. Everything is fucked, it's all topsy turvy. But it's okay, because it's meta-unstable hypnospace, its not SUPPOSED to be normal. And then there was a Red Sock."
"Like for the feet?"
"No. Like. In the middle of this fucked up dreamscape, there's suddenly a batter for the Boston Red Sox. He's standing there, maybe 50 feet away. He's got a bat in one hand and a mitt in the other, and he's just kinda walking towards us. Nobody really knew what to do. It didn't look dangerous, but something wasn't right. It didn't fit. We just kinda stood there, looking at the thing. Israel starts talking to Bruso, asking him what to do. Suddenly, Bruso is screaming at us, telling us to book it. He's screaming into the com, telling us to prepare for de-emmanation. Nobody knows what's happening. Israel is suddenly standing between Mills and the Red Sock, and..."
"Any information you can recall could be of use."
"It's...it's mostly feeling at this point. You ever been having a normal dream? Like, a good, normal dream? And suddenly you realize that something is really, really wrong? There's signs. For me? It's that the lights go out. Suddenly day turns to night, and something about this batter just makes me want to curl up and hide. Suddenly, moving through the world is like trying to swim through molasses. I try to run, but nothing moves, and everything is dark. The world is shifting. There's shadows under the bathroom door that can't be happening. A man who looks like Jesus. An old and terrible house and an old man with no name whose face I can't remember. The batter swings at Mills and she just...vanishes. Shes gone. Bruso pulls us out a second later."
"So this, batter killed Ms. Mills?"
"No."
"No?"
"No. We get out, she's comatose. Whatever that thing did to her, she was still in hypnospace. I gave her a hot shot of barbiturates. Her brain activity slowed to R0 after about 90 seconds."
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