More Ships than a Navy

redhead-archergirl: biacomcafe: theravenandthesun: HAHAHAHAHA!...

Thu, 20 Jun 2013 03:20:31 -0400

biacomcafe:

theravenandthesun:

HAHAHAHAHA!

If this were a real thing, I would be doing it right now.

Huh, that seems like a very useful tutorial. But… Does it work with women? It would be really useful for crossplaying.

Let’s give it a try. Fortunately, I have some spare “Man Soap” with me.

I can’t wait a full minute-!! It tingles too much-!

Huh… A nice stubble. That’s what I get for cleaning too soon…

But I can always try adding a package FULL OF BACON~! I wonder if that will have any effects really…

HOLY MOTHER OF ODIN-

I haven’t stopped laughing at this for about ten straight minutes. I’ve got it up in a separate tab just to laugh at it.

all-four-cheekbones: whythefuckareyouromeo: wtfshiroko: Radioa...

Thu, 20 Jun 2013 02:10:29 -0400

all-four-cheekbones:

whythefuckareyouromeo:

wtfshiroko:

Radioactive (Music Box Version) - Imagine Dragons

by JoshuaSaundersMusic

Well that took me 0.01 seconds to reblog

I imagine this playing in a brutal fight scene, explosions everywhere, smoke and debris flying in slow motion, while the bots charge into battle in absolute horror of what is happening.

NU UH SUCKA, YOU GET BACK INTO HUGGUN RANGE B4 I DRAG YO ASS...

Thu, 20 Jun 2013 00:05:09 -0400

NU UH SUCKA, YOU GET BACK INTO HUGGUN RANGE B4 I DRAG YO ASS BACK.

WHENEVER YOU WRITE LITTLE COMMENTS ON MY PICTURES I GET JUST AS...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 23:47:14 -0400

WHENEVER YOU WRITE LITTLE COMMENTS ON MY PICTURES I GET JUST AS HAPPY

The four fandoms I seem to be circling around lately..

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 21:24:00 -0400

The four fandoms I seem to be circling around lately..

merina2: I’m a filmmaker and VFX/postproduction artist and this...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 17:12:47 -0400

merina2:

I’m a filmmaker and VFX/postproduction artist and this is my non-profit new project inspired by the Portal universe. The objective: Create a 100% CG spec trailer before I go crazy. Lots of things to learn, lots of R&D to do!

- J.R. Duran

knorke: thegameisalife: Teclado de Portal visto aquí . Nos lo...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 09:57:21 -0400

knorke:

thegameisalife:

Teclado de Portal visto aquí . Nos lo envía @DanielRoz0

WANT!!!!!!!!!!!

I sort of need this like a burning desire….

thelittlecoyoteinitiative: This needs to be rebloggable …

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 02:10:29 -0400

thelittlecoyoteinitiative:

This needs to be rebloggable …

copequinn: cassicucumber: ijustwantedadragonageurl: perfectedf...

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 10:21:06 -0400

copequinn:

cassicucumber:

ijustwantedadragonageurl:

perfectedflaw:

butthole-spaghetti:

gracie-geek:

crazeace:

fuzzlesan:

fuckyeahspookyshit:

Last year, I spent six months participating in what I was told was a psychological experiment. I found an ad in my local paper looking for imaginative people looking to make good money, and since it was the only ad that week that I was remotely qualified for, I gave them a call and we arranged an interview.

They told me that all I would have to do is stay in a room, alone, with sensors attached to my head to read my brain activity, and while I was there I would visualize a double of myself. They called it my “tulpa.”

It seemed easy enough, and I agreed to do it as soon as they told me how much I would be paid. The next day, I began. They brought me to a simple room and gave me a bed, then attached sensors to my head and hooked them into a little black box on the table beside me. They talked me through the process of visualizing my double again, and explained that if I got bored or restless, instead of moving around, I should visualize my double moving around, or try to interact with him, and so on. The idea was to keep him with me the entire time I was in the room.

I had trouble with it for the first few days. It was more controlled than any sort of daydreaming I’d done before. I’d imagine my double for a few minutes, then grow distracted. By the fourth day, however, I could manage to keep him “present” for the entire six hours. They told me I was doing very well.

The second week, they gave me a different room with wall-mounted speakers. They told me they wanted to see if I could still keep the tulpa with me in spite of distracting stimuli. The music was discordant, ugly, unsettling, and it made the process a little more difficult, but I managed nonetheless. The next week, they played even more unsettling music, punctuated with shrieks, feedback loops, what sounded like an old school modem dialing up and guttural voices speaking some foreign language. I just laughed it off; I was a pro by then.

After about a month, I started to get bored. To liven things up, I started interacting with my doppelganger. we’d have conversations, play rock-paper-scissors, I’d imagine him juggling or break dancing, or whatever caught my fancy. I asked the researchers if my foolishness would adversely affect their study, but they encouraged me.

So, we played and communicated, and that was fun for a while…and then it got a little strange. I was telling him about my first date one day and he corrected me. I’d said my date was wearing a yellow top, and he told me it was a green one. I thought about it for a second and realized he was right. It creeped me out, and after my shift that day I talked to the researchers about it. “You’re using the thought-form to access your subconscious,” they explained. “You knew on some level that you were wrong, and you subconscious corrected yourself.”

What had been creepy was suddenly cool. I was talking to my subconscious! It took some practice, but I found that I could question my tulpa and access all sorts of memories. I could make it quote whole pages of books I’d read once, years before, or things I was taught and immediately forgot in high school. It was awesome.

That was around the time I started “calling up” my double outside of the research center. Not often, at first, but I was so used to imagining him by now that it almost seemed odd not to see him. So, whenever I was bored, I’d visualize my double. Eventually, I started doing it almost all the time. It was amusing to take him along like an invisible friend. I imagined him when I was hanging out with friends, or visiting my mom; I even brought him along on a date once. I didn’t need to speak aloud to him, so I was able to carry out conversations with him and no one was the wiser.

I know that sounds strange, but it was fun. Not only was he a walking repository of everything I knew and everything I had forgotten, he also seemed more in touch with me than I did at times. He had an uncanny grasp of the minutiae of body language that I didn’t even realize I was picking up on. For example, I thought the date I brought him along on was going badly, but he pointed out how she was laughing a little too hard at my jokes and leaning towards me as I spoke, and a bunch of other subtle clues I wasn’t consciously picking up on. I listened and let’s just say that the date went very well.

By the time I’d been at the research center for four months he was with me constantly. The researchers approached me one day after my shift and asked me if I’d stopped visualizing him. I denied it and they seemed pleased. I silently asked my double if he knew what prompted that, but he just shrugged it off. So did I.

I withdrew a little from the world at that point. I was having trouble relating to people. It seemed to me that they were so confused and unsure of themselves, while I had a manifestation of myself to confer with. It made socializing awkward. Nobody else seemed aware of the reasons behind their actions, why some things made them mad and others made them laugh. They didn’t know what moved them…but I did, or at least I could ask myself and get an answer

A friend confronted me one evening. He pounded at the door until I answered it and came in fuming and swearing up a storm. “You haven’t answered when I called you in fucking weeks, you dick!” he yelled. “What’s your fucking problem?”

I was about to apologize to him and probably would have offered to hit the bars with him that night, but my tulpa grew suddenly furious. “Hit him,” it said, and before I knew what I was doing, I had. I heard his nose break. He fell to the floor and came up swinging, and we beat each other up and down my apartment. I was more furious than I have ever been, and I was not merciful. I knocked him to the ground and gave him two savage kicks to the ribs, and that was when he fled, hunched over and sobbing.

The police were by a few minutes later, but I told them that he had been the instigator and since he wasn’t around to refute me, they let me off with a warning. My tulpa was grinning the entire time. We spent the night crowing about my victory and sneering over how badly I’d beaten my friend.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when I was checking out my black eye and cut lip in the mirror, that I remembered what had set me o ff. My double was the one who’d grown furious, not me. I’d been feeling guilty and a little ashamed, but he’d goaded me into a vicious fight with a concerned friend. He was present, of course, and knew my thoughts. “You don’t need him any more. You don’t need anyone else,” he told me; I felt my skin crawl.

I explained all this to the researchers who employed me, but they just laughed it off. “You can’t be scared of something that you’re imagining,” one told me. My double stood beside him and nodded his head, then smirked at me.

I tried to take their words to heart, but over the next few days I found myself growing more and more anxious around my tulpa, and it seemed that he was changing. He looked taller and more menacing. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and I saw malice in his constant smile. No job was worth losing my mind over, I decided. If he was out of control, I’d put him down. I was so used to him at that point that visualizing him was an automatic process, so I started trying my damnedest to not visualize him. It took a few days, but it started to work somewhat. I could get rid of him for hours at a time, but every time he came back, he seemed worse. His skin seemed ashen, his teeth more pointed. He hissed and gibbered and threatened and swore. The discordant music I’d been listening to for months seemed to accompany him everywhere. Even when I was at home; I’d relax and slip up, no longer concentrating on no seeing him, and there he’d be, and that howling noise with him.

I was still visiting the research center and spending my next six hours there. I needed the money, and I thought they weren’t away that I was now not actively visualizing my tulpa. I was wrong. After my shift one day, about five and a half months in, two impressive men grabbed me and restrained me, and someone in a lab coat jabbed a hypodermic needle into me.

I woke up from my stupor back in the room, strapped into the bed, music blaring, with my doppelganger standing over me, cackling. He hardly looked human any more. His features were twisted. His eyes were sunken in their sockets and filmed over like a corpse’s. He was much taller than me, but hunched over. His hands were twisted, and his fingernails were like talons. He was, in short, fucking terrifying. I tried to will him away, but I couldn’t seem to concentrate. He giggled and tapped the IV in my arm. I thrashed in my restraints as best I could, but could hardly move at all.

“They’re pumping you full of the good shit, I think. How’s the mind? All fuzzy?” He leaned closer and closer as he spoke. I gagged; his breath smelled like spoiled meat. I tried to focus, but I couldn’t banish him.

The next few weeks were terrible. Every so often, someone in a doctor’s coat would come in and inject me with something or force-feed me a pill. They kept me dizzy and unfocused, and sometimes left me hallucinating or delusional. My thought-form was still present, constantly mocking. He interacted with, or perhaps caused, my delusions. I hallucinated that my mother was there, scolding me, and then he cut her throat and her blood showered me. It was so real that I could taste it.

The doctors never spoke to me. I begged at times, screamed, hurled invectives, demanded answers. They never spoke to me. They may have talked to my tulpa, my personal monster. I’m not sure. I was so doped and confused that it may have just been more delusion, but I remember them talking with him. I grew convinced that he was the real one and that I was the thought-form. He encouraged that line of thought at times, but mocked me at others.
‘
Another thing that I pray was a delusion: he could touch me. More than that, he could hurt me. He’d poke and prod at me if he felt I wasn’t paying enough attention to him. Once, he grabbed my testicles and squeezed until I told him I loved him. Another time, he slashed my forearm with one of his talons. I still have a scar; most days I can convince myself that I injured myself, and just hallucinated that he was responsible. Most days.

Then, one day, while he was telling me a story about how he was going to gut everyone I loved, starting with my sister, he paused. A querulous look crossed his face, and he reached out and touched my head. Like mother used to when I was feverish. He stayed still for a long moment and then smiled. “All thoughts are creative,” he told me, then he walked out the door.

Three hours later, I was given an injection and passed out. I awoke unrestrained. Shaking, I made my way to the door and found it unlocked I walked out into the empty hallway and then ran. I stumbled more than once, but I made it down the stairs and out into the lot behind the building. There, I collapsed, weeping like a child. I knew I had to keep moving, but I couldn’t manage it.

I got home eventually; I don’t remember how. I locked the door and shoved a dresser against it, took a long shower, and slept for a day and a half. Nobody came for me in the night, and nobody came the next day or the one after that. I twas over. I’d spent a week locked in that room, but it had felt like a century. I’d withdrawn so much from my life beforehand that nobody had even known I was missing.

The police didn’t find anything. The research center was empty when they searched it. The paper trail fell apart. The names I’d given them were aliases. Even the money I’d received was apparently untraceable.

I recovered as much as one can. I don’t leave the house much, and I have panic attacks when I do. I cry a lot. I don’t sleep much, and my nightmares are terrible. It’s over, I tell myself. I survived. I used the concentration those bastards taught me to convince myself. It works, sometimes.

Not today, though. Three days ago, I got a phone call from my mother. There’s been a tragedy. My sister’s the latest victim in a spree of killings, the police say. The perpetrator mugs his victims, then guts them.

The funeral was this afternoon. It was as lovely a service as a funeral can be, I suppose. I was a little distracted, though. All I could hear was music coming from somewhere distant. It was discordant, unsettling stuff that sounds like feedback, shrieking, and a modem dialing up. I hear it still – a little louder now.

Oh my god…

…I…

…I’m generally not into creepypastas but holy shit…

………

Holy shit what the hell did I just read

the scary part is that this is an actual thing. you can actually have a tulpa. it is a theory that slenderman among other myths are tulpas or thoughtforms (something created by collective thoughts of one or more individuals).
it’s so terrifying to think of what your mind can create.

Holy tits…

WHY IS THIS BACK

liTERALLY HORRIFIED JESUS CHRIST

fuck

So I know I literally just read a huge creepy pasta about how creating a Tulpa is a horrible idea……

But now I am super fucking interested.

blowinintheart: The Art of Negative Space by Tang Yau Hoong

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 04:30:26 -0400

blowinintheart:

The Art of Negative Space by Tang Yau Hoong

lesbiansandthelivingdead: gnattynat: gettin-nakie-outside: ask...

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 03:20:31 -0400

lesbiansandthelivingdead:

gnattynat:

gettin-nakie-outside:

ask-usedkirby:

“Money Can’t Buy You Happiness, But Money Can Buy You A Baby Goat, Which Is A Ball Of Happiness” ~Phillard Von Chester

Have fun looking at baby goats and hope your day gets better!

Look at their little cutie tocks ;-;

omg pygmy goats and baby goats and GOATS

They are controlled by their back stomping posts.

mamakarkat: felinegamer: Happy father’s day sTOP THE BU S

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 02:10:24 -0400

mamakarkat:

felinegamer:

Happy father’s day

sTOP THE BU S

thatpointlessidiot: magnezone: krudman: smilingemoticon: itsv...

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 00:33:37 -0400

thatpointlessidiot:

magnezone:

krudman:

smilingemoticon:

itsvondell:

voldey:

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse.

wow

is this a joke because i’m not laughing at all

I thought to myself when I saw this, “no. This has to be some one being silly. This has to be something some one fabricated to make microsoft look worse and people just aren’t checking the source.”

NOPE. IT’S REAL.

AND IT GOT WORSE:

WHAT.

remember when the basic fucking concept of a commodity was that buying something meant it was yours

I want everyone to think long and hard on this information.

This means that you are not buying your games. You are paying 60+ dollars to rent the games from Microsoft, and they can take their game back whenever they feel like it.

You will not own your game. You will not own your console. Essentially, Microsoft is saying “We can disable your games and cut you off from accessing your console whenever we choose to.” Because a ban that locks your XBox Live account means that you will be locked out from all non-game functionality of the system, and by revoking your ‘licenses’ on all your games associated with your account, they can then disable each and every game you own for the system. Leaving you with a five hundred dollar cable receiver. Or, in the case of most users of the console, a five hundred dollar paperweight.

All because you accidentally walked into some online glitch and the rest of the players rage-report you for cheating.

This is unacceptable. Buy any console but an XBox One. Do not support Microsoft’s sudden belief that they own everything despite our purchase of it, and we have to prove we’re worthy of being shared with by paying exorbitant fees and jumping through constant hoops and hoping someone doesn’t report us for cheating because we made them mad in an online game.

Tell Microsoft ‘No,’ and do not give them your hard-earned money for what amounts to a video game subscription service with a $500 starting fee and $60+ dollar purchases.

askelasmosaurus: Brian Kesinger, story artist at Walt Disney...

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 02:10:29 -0400

askelasmosaurus:

Brian Kesinger, story artist at Walt Disney Animation Studios, talks about fan art and why it’s a good thing.

I would also like to add that if you post traced work please respect the original artist and credit them.

ahrrow: will2bill: joewierenga: Lord of the Flies by Joe...

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 03:20:48 -0400

ahrrow:

will2bill:

joewierenga:

Lord of the Flies by Joe Wierenga.

So. Cool.

holy crap this is the best

timecannotberewritten: Official Playstation Used Game...

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 02:10:33 -0400

timecannotberewritten:

Official Playstation Used Game Instructional Video (x)

I’m sorry Microsoft, I couldn’t hear your xbox one conference over the giant clanging metal balls of Sony.

hootaloo: noxraven42: thefoolstale: okay, hold up. i have...

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 02:10:29 -0400

hootaloo:

noxraven42:

thefoolstale:

okay, hold up. i have been so upset about this. do you see this young man? he deserves a goddamn nomination if not being handed the fucking oscar, okay. here’s why:

1. this fucker had never acted before. he only was at the auditions because his brother was auditioning and he BRIBED him to come for A MOTHERFUCKING SUBWAY SANDWICH.

2. i don’t know if you know this, but there was NO tiger in any damn scene when he is on that damn boat. HE IS LOOKING AT AIR AND I BELIEVED THERE WAS A FUCKING TIGER IN THE MOVIE UNTIL AFTER I WATCHED AN INTERVIEW WHERE HE SAYS THERE’S NO DAMN TIGER. HE WAS SUCH A GOOD ACTOR I THOUGHT THERE WAS AN ACTUAL TIGER.

3. HE DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO SWIM. look, this kid lied about being able to stay afloat, but HE LEARNED AT LIKE 18 TO SWIM FOR THIS MOVIE. HIS PART IN THE MOVIE IS SURROUNDED BY WATER. MAN, I’VE BEEN SWIMMING SINCE I WAS TWO AND I WOULD STILL BE DYING IF I WAS DOING HALF THE SHIT HE PUT UP WITH IN THAT WATER. HE COULDN’T SWIM. LIKE WATER WAS CONSTANTLY DROWNING HIM. I WOULDN’T BE SURPRISED IF HE NEVER GOES NEAR THE WATER AGAIN AFTER THE AMOUNT OF TIME HE WAS ALMOST DROWNED.

4. if this is not enough to convince you, also look how cute he is and keep in mind that he NEVER GOT THAT FUCKING SUBWAY SANDWICH.

thank you for your time and if you haven’t seen the movie, go see it because it is amazing and i am very passionate about it as you can see.

somebody get that motherfucker a sandwhich

send him thousands of fuckin sandwiches

halbernacht: raikissu: vronboy: shadowkixx: SOMEONE FUCKING...

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 05:40:25 -0400

halbernacht:

raikissu:

vronboy:

shadowkixx:

SOMEONE FUCKING MODDED THE 3D MANUEVER FROM ATTACK ON TITAN INTO MINECRAFT AND I AM LITERALLY LOSING MY SHIT OVER IT

SAME

holy crap

Now all you need are giant zombies reskinned to look like Titans and you’re good to go.

Ok I have no idea about this show save for what my dash has told me… But that’s a fucking BOSS way to get around!!

gameleste: “what happened to real music”

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 04:30:27 -0400

gameleste:

“what happened to real music”

astrozombina: albinwonderland: aimmyarrowshigh: viivus:darthka...

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 03:20:25 -0400

astrozombina:

albinwonderland:

aimmyarrowshigh:

viivus:darthkain:vergess:darthkain:isthatwhatyoumint:viivustakesrequestsmaybe:

Okay, even I didn’t know I wanted to draw this before you suggested it. I HOPE I HAVE DONE THIS GREAT SUGGESTION JUSTICE

omigod i’m just weeping and crying, this is the single most amazing image i have ever caused to happen

Okay, Nicki Minaj is disgusting and doesn’t deserve any more respect than any other random person. Her music is awful and she looks like a horse that got its face smashed in.

You opinion on her music is probably quite valid. I am known to my truly abyssmal taste in all things rhythmic, so my saying “I actually like it a lot” is probably just another nail in the coffin.

However, the reason we are fans of Ms Minaj is only in part because of her music. A good half of what makes her boss as fuck is her attitude.

She looks sexism in the face, and spits on it. She says to the world “Hey, I may have tits (and they are great tits don’t get me wrong) but I also have a brain and I know how to use it so you need to just back the fuck up.”

And that’s the point of this image.

Fact that you feel perfectly all right in mixing an aesthetic judgement in with a judgement on her artistic merits is literally the sort of bullshit that she does not tolerate, and that no woman, in the public sphere or just in general, should.

I expected better of you, Axel, I really did.

I don’t dislike her because she’s a woman, I dislike her because she’s an awful artist and everyone loves her anyway. I misunderstood the point of the image, not knowing that she has this campaign against sexism going. The only thing I knew about her is that she’s fugly and her music is awful. I’ve been told that’s all I need to know. Her looks wouldn’t be that bad if she didn’t use plastic surgery to make them that way. At least I’ve been told that was plastic surgery, and it sure as hell looks like it. If so, she chose to look like that and it was a goddamn mistake. If she was born that way it’s not her fault.

When I see statements like, “I don’t hate her because she’s a woman!” immediately followed by multiple statements of, “SHE’S SO UGLY,” and “she even chooses to look the way she does,” I can’t help but feel like you’re contradicting what you just set out to prove. Especially with that bit about “that’s all I need to know.”

Also, I’m sorry you will never be as [cute] as Nick Minaj

WAIT no I’m not.

“And then I started saying, Oh, that’s not sexy to you? Good. I’m going to do it more. Maybe I don’t want to be sexy to you today.” — Nicki Minaj

I fucken love Vivi and I fucken love Nicks

nicki just started playing on spotify for me so OBVS i approve