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Sayingimages Com

Sayingimages Com

The Same
The Same

The Same

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Heights

Heights

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Join

Join

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Soar

Soar

At First
At First

At First

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Sounds

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Have

Have

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Was

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Sights: photos-of-space: Hubble Sets Sights on a Galaxy with a Bright Heart
Sights: photos-of-space:

Hubble Sets Sights on a Galaxy with a Bright Heart

photos-of-space: Hubble Sets Sights on a Galaxy with a Bright Heart

Sights: chapter-master-darius: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman: wh40kartwork: Krieger by Rotaken The certified madlad Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads) Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare You two are overlooking the fact that these weapons were used to brutally murder Nazis. Focus on the good things, yeah? True. I fully agree but technical nonsense makes me angery
Sights: chapter-master-darius:

randomnightlord:

feniczoroark:

randomnightlord:

feniczoroark:

randomnightlord:

feniczoroark:

randomnightlord:

feniczoroark:

just-another-guardsman:

wh40kartwork:

Krieger by 
Rotaken



The certified madlad


Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack


The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames


Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study


Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it


It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE


That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. 


The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads)


Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare 


You two are overlooking the fact that these weapons were used to brutally murder Nazis. Focus on the good things, yeah?


True. I fully agree but technical nonsense makes me angery

chapter-master-darius: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlor...

Sights: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman: wh40kartwork: Krieger by Rotaken The certified madlad Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads) Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare
Sights: feniczoroark:

randomnightlord:

feniczoroark:

randomnightlord:

feniczoroark:

randomnightlord:

feniczoroark:

just-another-guardsman:

wh40kartwork:

Krieger by 
Rotaken



The certified madlad


Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack


The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames


Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study


Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it


It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE


That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. 


The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads)


Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare

feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman:...

Sights: _Sadly sights_
Sights: _Sadly sights_

_Sadly sights_

Sights: _Sadly sights_ by maschoe_ MORE MEMES
Sights: _Sadly sights_ by maschoe_
MORE MEMES

_Sadly sights_ by maschoe_ MORE MEMES

Sights: The sweetest of sights
Sights: The sweetest of sights

The sweetest of sights

Sights: Suihisonian CHANNEL flicker-serthes: sebastianmichaelisthedevilwithin: wortlby2: germanamericanslavic: Colorized footage of the legendary Annie Oakley speed shooting with her Winchester rifle, November 1, 1894 “When a man hits a target, they call him a marksman. When I hit a target, they call it a trick. Never did like that much.” - Annie Oakley Idk who Annie Oakley is, but she’s so cool! Annie Oakley was. BEAST of a marksman. When she was fifteen, she went head-to-head in a shooting contest with a prize of $100, against a travelling exhibition marksman (Frank Butler). She beat him handily, and won the $100 (equivalent to over $2000 today). Please note that it was a shot-for-shot match, and he lost on the TWENTY-FIFTH clay pigeon (so it was a moving target, too). Twenty-five shots in a row, Annie hit them ALL. This, understandably, resulted in Frank, who drank his respect women juice, to be like “Wow that is super hot and I’m in love.” They ended up getting married pretty soon after that, but didn’t have any kids (but IMAGINE IF THEY DID. A FAMILY OF SHARPSHOOTERS). Some of her “trick” shooting (in other words, absolute badass nearly impossible shots given the sights on guns at the time and such) included: Splitting a playing card clean in half from thirty paces while it was place on its edge. Taking off the burning end of a cigarette placed in her husband’s mouth, from thirty+ paces. Having someone throw a DIME into the air, and shooting it clean through. She was lauded by Chief Sitting Bull for her marksmanship when he saw her blow out a candle with one shot, without damaging the wick or the candle itself. Into her sixties, she continued breaking records as well as being a vocal women’s rights activist. She, in her later years, shot 100 clay pigeons in a row from 15 meters. She died in 1915, and her husband was so consumed by grief that he stopped eating and died 18 days later because he couldn’t stand to be apart from her. After her death it was discovered that her ENTIRE fortune (a tidy amount) had been secretly given to several charities, women’s rights groups, and her family in the last few months of her life. She was legendary, and received numerous titles to go along with her abilities, but my favorite is definitely Annie Oakley, Little Sureshot of the West.
Sights: Suihisonian
 CHANNEL
flicker-serthes:

sebastianmichaelisthedevilwithin:


wortlby2:

germanamericanslavic:
Colorized footage of the legendary Annie Oakley speed shooting with her Winchester rifle, November 1, 1894

“When a man hits a target, they call 
him a marksman. When I hit a target, they call it a trick. Never did 
like that much.” - Annie Oakley




Idk who Annie Oakley is, but she’s so cool! 


Annie Oakley was. BEAST of a marksman.

When she was fifteen, she went head-to-head in a shooting contest with a prize of $100, against a travelling exhibition marksman (Frank Butler). She beat him handily, and won the $100 (equivalent to over $2000 today). Please note that it was a shot-for-shot match, and he lost on the TWENTY-FIFTH clay pigeon (so it was a moving target, too). Twenty-five shots in a row, Annie hit them ALL.

This, understandably, resulted in Frank, who drank his respect women juice, to be like “Wow that is super hot and I’m in love.” They ended up getting married pretty soon after that, but didn’t have any kids (but IMAGINE IF THEY DID. A FAMILY OF SHARPSHOOTERS).

Some of her “trick” shooting (in other words, absolute badass nearly impossible shots given the sights on guns at the time and such) included:

Splitting a playing card clean in half from thirty paces while it was place on its edge.

Taking off the burning end of a cigarette placed in her husband’s mouth, from thirty+ paces.

Having someone throw a DIME into the air, and shooting it clean through.

She was lauded by Chief Sitting Bull for her marksmanship when he saw her blow out a candle with one shot, without damaging the wick or the candle itself.

Into her sixties, she continued breaking records as well as being a vocal women’s rights activist. She, in her later years, shot 100 clay pigeons in a row from 15 meters.

She died in 1915, and her husband was so consumed by grief that he stopped eating and died 18 days later because he couldn’t stand to be apart from her.

After her death it was discovered that her ENTIRE fortune (a tidy amount) had been secretly given to several charities, women’s rights groups, and her family in the last few months of her life.

She was legendary, and received numerous titles to go along with her abilities, but my favorite is definitely Annie Oakley, Little Sureshot of the West.

flicker-serthes: sebastianmichaelisthedevilwithin: wortlby2: germanamericanslavic: Colorized footage of the legendary Annie Oakley sp...

Sights: lonelymountainson: of-sights-and-snouts: I got Barclay a new costume and he is not 100% on board with my humor. Fuckin…MELON COLLIE ahhhggghhhh
Sights: lonelymountainson:

of-sights-and-snouts:

I got Barclay a new costume and he is not 100% on board with my humor.

Fuckin…MELON COLLIE ahhhggghhhh

lonelymountainson: of-sights-and-snouts: I got Barclay a new costume and he is not 100% on board with my humor. Fuckin…MELON COLLIE ah...

Sights: lonelymountainson: of-sights-and-snouts: I got Barclay a new costume and he is not 100% on board with my humor. Fuckin…MELON COLLIE ahhhggghhhh
Sights: lonelymountainson:
of-sights-and-snouts:

I got Barclay a new costume and he is not 100% on board with my humor.

Fuckin…MELON COLLIE ahhhggghhhh

lonelymountainson: of-sights-and-snouts: I got Barclay a new costume and he is not 100% on board with my humor. Fuckin…MELON COLLIE ahh...

Sights: dark balls of sight pancakeke: birdantlers: Everybody go tf home I have officially found a worse name for eyes than ‘orbs’ can’t believe I had to read this with my own balls
Sights: dark balls of sight
pancakeke:
birdantlers:
Everybody go tf home I have officially found a worse name for eyes than ‘orbs’
can’t believe I had to read this with my own balls

pancakeke: birdantlers: Everybody go tf home I have officially found a worse name for eyes than ‘orbs’ can’t believe I had to read this w...

Sights: foone Follow oone Here's the question I always have with universal translators in sci-fi: how do they know when to stop translation? Like say an alien asks about deserts on earth, and the human lists "the sahara desert, gobi desert and kalahari desert" Alien: You just said "desert" six times. :43 AM-19 Jul 2018 756 Retweets 1,883 Likes 068 ロ756 ㅇ1.SK foone @Foone 24h ("Sahara" is Arabic for "desert". "Gobi is Mongolian for "desert, and "Kalahari is Tswana for "desert foone @Foone 24h Man, the aliens are going to think we're so bad at naming. Cause really, aren't Brit: Behold, the beautiful River Avon Alien: Ahh, the River River. You humans have such a knack for naming things. foone Foone 24h Here we are in Chad, looking upon the mighty Lake Chad! Ahh yes, the land of Lake, bordering the Lake Lake. Another fine human name." foone @Foone 24h And here's Nyanza Lac, in Burundi. As you can tell by the fact that it's named Lake Lake in Bantu & French, it's a la... actually this one's a city. A city named Lake Lake strange-emily I found this thing on Facebook... and l fell down the Humans Are Weird hole yet again. ( first did before I even started my blog - Pinterest is sooo full of these posts! And I keep falling down it from time to time, when I discover something new) sirthane You could do it like Douglas Adams with some device that reads brainwaves (or whatever jargon you choose) and translates the intended meaning of the words according to the speaker. In this context, for instance, the speaker intends the word Sahara to mean the name of the place, so the translator would translate it accurately as Sahara Desert. I've thought about things like this before. Mostly about the common rip at ghost hunter shows and movies about how a x00 years old German castle has ghosts that speak perfect, crystal clear, modern English. My thoughts on a plausible explanation were that an apparition would not physically speak by causing vibrations in the air. Rather, consider the possibility that they instead push thoughts into the minds of those it interacts with causing them to experience the sensation of hearing and seeing them as a means to communicate Your brain receives thoughts of the meanings and concepts the being intends to convey. That's why you hear them in your native language, no matter what you speak or where you're at. This also comes with the bonus of explaining why proof is never found on audio or video recordings. The sights and sounds you perceive didn't actually physically happen. You could also reasonably argue that they'd still be able to interact with (push) physical objects with strong enough emotions through some means (depending on canon) while communicating in this manner by saying that expanding and contracting the air in such a way to create the sound of voice with intelligible words would require far too much precision and control ldk. It's fun stuff to think about. Source:strange-emily #brain waves #translation #ghost echnology #humans are space australians #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans 16,100 notes A neat solution to a worldbuilding problem
Sights: foone
 Follow
 oone
 Here's the question I always have with
 universal translators in sci-fi: how do
 they know when to stop translation?
 Like say an alien asks about deserts on
 earth, and the human lists "the sahara
 desert, gobi desert and kalahari desert"
 Alien: You just said "desert" six times.
 :43 AM-19 Jul 2018
 756 Retweets 1,883 Likes
 068 ロ756 ㅇ1.SK
 foone @Foone 24h
 ("Sahara" is Arabic for "desert". "Gobi is Mongolian for "desert, and "Kalahari is
 Tswana for "desert
 foone @Foone 24h
 Man, the aliens are going to think we're so bad at naming. Cause really, aren't
 Brit: Behold, the beautiful River Avon
 Alien: Ahh, the River River. You humans have such a knack for naming things.
 foone Foone 24h
 Here we are in Chad, looking upon the mighty Lake Chad!
 Ahh yes, the land of Lake, bordering the Lake Lake. Another fine human name."
 foone @Foone 24h
 And here's Nyanza Lac, in Burundi. As you can tell by the fact that it's named
 Lake Lake in Bantu & French, it's a la... actually this one's a city. A city named Lake
 Lake
 strange-emily
 I found this thing on Facebook... and l fell down the Humans Are Weird hole yet
 again. ( first did before I even started my blog - Pinterest is sooo full of these
 posts! And I keep falling down it from time to time, when I discover something
 new)
 sirthane
 You could do it like Douglas Adams with some device that reads brainwaves (or
 whatever jargon you choose) and translates the intended meaning of the words
 according to the speaker. In this context, for instance, the speaker intends the
 word Sahara to mean the name of the place, so the translator would translate it
 accurately as Sahara Desert.
 I've thought about things like this before. Mostly about the common rip at ghost
 hunter shows and movies about how a x00 years old German castle has ghosts
 that speak perfect, crystal clear, modern English. My thoughts on a plausible
 explanation were that an apparition would not physically speak by causing
 vibrations in the air. Rather, consider the possibility that they instead push
 thoughts into the minds of those it interacts with causing them to experience the
 sensation of hearing and seeing them as a means to communicate
 Your brain receives thoughts of the meanings and concepts the being intends to
 convey. That's why you hear them in your native language, no matter what you
 speak or where you're at. This also comes with the bonus of explaining why
 proof is never found on audio or video recordings. The sights and sounds you
 perceive didn't actually physically happen. You could also reasonably argue that
 they'd still be able to interact with (push) physical objects with strong enough
 emotions through some means (depending on canon) while communicating in
 this manner by saying that expanding and contracting the air in such a way to
 create the sound of voice with intelligible words would require far too much
 precision and control
 ldk. It's fun stuff to think about.
 Source:strange-emily #brain waves #translation #ghost echnology
 #humans are space australians #humans are insane #humans are space oddities
 #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans
 16,100 notes
A neat solution to a worldbuilding problem

A neat solution to a worldbuilding problem

Sights: Mysterious Photos Of Unexplainably 'Crooked Forest' lin Poland Sometimes the strangest sights are found in nature. In this case, 400 pine trees in the northwest of Poland appear to be almost normal, but they are not. If you look at the base of these trees, you might feel like you’ve just entered a strange mystical fairy tale. All of the trees have the same northward 90-degree bend at the base of their limb. Known as the “Crooked Forest,” this unique site remains an unexplained mystery. Every tree in the Crooked Forest has the same haunting bend, but despite bent beginnings, all of the trees have grown to be tall and seemingly unhampered by their C shape curves. Some experts believe that the trees grew like this because they incurred some sort of damage to the tip and along some side branches. Trees are resilient, and so they continued to thrive, relying on the one branch they had left to take over complete function and grow upwards. Whatever damage occurred to one tree must have happened to them all because they remain uniform in deformity. The Crooked Forest is around 80 years old. It is estimated that the damage that made them look how they do today occurred when the trees were about 7 years old. This would have been before the Second World War reached Poland. Which helps to explain the most popular theory about how the trees came to be crooked. As the story goes, in 1930 a group of farmers planted these trees, intentionally damaging the base in order to create some sort of product, perhaps uniquely shaped furniture. The world may never know if it’s true because the farmers were unable to finish their work after the invasion on Poland during World War II dismantled their plans. ⇒Love ❤️, flow 💬, serve ✨⇐ . . . . . . . . . . . . . nature habitat geyser science amazing facts video natural italy sand wow instatag facts instafun instavideo videos spiritual beautiful london amazingfact memes mindblown fact magic insta sun trees tree poland Credits: 📷 Kilian Schönberger
Sights: Mysterious Photos Of
 Unexplainably 'Crooked Forest' lin
 Poland
Sometimes the strangest sights are found in nature. In this case, 400 pine trees in the northwest of Poland appear to be almost normal, but they are not. If you look at the base of these trees, you might feel like you’ve just entered a strange mystical fairy tale. All of the trees have the same northward 90-degree bend at the base of their limb. Known as the “Crooked Forest,” this unique site remains an unexplained mystery. Every tree in the Crooked Forest has the same haunting bend, but despite bent beginnings, all of the trees have grown to be tall and seemingly unhampered by their C shape curves. Some experts believe that the trees grew like this because they incurred some sort of damage to the tip and along some side branches. Trees are resilient, and so they continued to thrive, relying on the one branch they had left to take over complete function and grow upwards. Whatever damage occurred to one tree must have happened to them all because they remain uniform in deformity. The Crooked Forest is around 80 years old. It is estimated that the damage that made them look how they do today occurred when the trees were about 7 years old. This would have been before the Second World War reached Poland. Which helps to explain the most popular theory about how the trees came to be crooked. As the story goes, in 1930 a group of farmers planted these trees, intentionally damaging the base in order to create some sort of product, perhaps uniquely shaped furniture. The world may never know if it’s true because the farmers were unable to finish their work after the invasion on Poland during World War II dismantled their plans. ⇒Love ❤️, flow 💬, serve ✨⇐ . . . . . . . . . . . . . nature habitat geyser science amazing facts video natural italy sand wow instatag facts instafun instavideo videos spiritual beautiful london amazingfact memes mindblown fact magic insta sun trees tree poland Credits: 📷 Kilian Schönberger

Sometimes the strangest sights are found in nature. In this case, 400 pine trees in the northwest of Poland appear to be almost normal, b...

Sights: bibliotecaria-d: ebonykain: karacat: othersideofforty: erinnightwalker: ripped-up-jeans-and-glitter: erinnightwalker: acaffeinejunkie: erinnightwalker: erinnightwalker: geostatonary: sixpenceee: “A house I pass on the way to work has this sculpture in its yard. Its about 8 feet tall.” (Source) “HELLO NEIGHBOR STEVE, I WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO BARBEQUE ON THE EVE OF THE BLOOD MOON.  I FEEL WE GOT OFF TO A BAD START.” “NEIGHBOR STEVE, DO YOU NOT WISH TO PARTAKE OF THE UNCLEAN FLESH-MEATS OF PIGS AND THE POLLUTED ESSENCES OF TOMATO?  PERHAPS YOU ARE A CAROLINA STYLE MAN, NEIGHBOR STEVE?” “PUT THE GUN AWAY NEIGHBOR STEVE, YOU KNOW I SHALL ONLY RISE AGAIN WITH THE DAWNING OF THE MOON.  WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS MANY TIMES.” “LOOK AT THIS PICTURE MY SON DREW OF YOU AND CHILD TIMMY, YOUR SON.  ARE THEY NOT THE PICTURE OF PACT-MATES?  THIS COULD BE YOU AND ME, NEIGHBOR STEVE.” “YOU MISSED THE UNHOLY NEXUS OF POWER THAT IS THE KEY TO MY CORPOREAL FORM, NEIGHBOR STEVE.  YOU WILL NEED TO RELOAD NOW, SO I WILL GO INSIDE TO MY HELL-WIFE AND PUT YOU DOWN AS A SOLID ‘MAYBE’.“ I have the feeling that the families get along great except for Steve. Like, the wives are baking (questionable) brownies together, the kids are playing together, Antler Guy occasionally takes Son and Timmy to school (no car, just carries them in huge swinging strides through a nexus of ungoldly sights in a swirling netherworld shortcut. Sometimes they stop for McDonalds). Hell-wife gave them a potted Audrey Jr., Steve’s wife (who I now christen Sharon) gave them a begonia. One time Steve tries throwing holy water but all Antler Guy does is thank him, saying that no, Antler Guy isn’t Catholic but it’s the thought that counts, he is so kind to water his creeping deathshade vines regardless. For Christmas Antler Guy gives Steve a case of ammunition. To be funny/sarcastically mean Steve gets Antler Guy the world’s most hideous Christmas sweater, singing light-up reindeer included. He immediately regrets it because not only does Antler Guy love it and wears it for several months, it will never need batteries because Antler Guy powers it with his own eldritch aura. When they come back from a holiday to Hawaii, Steve is horrified to find out Sharon bought them matching Hawaiian shirts. He is even more horrified that his wife means it that if he doesn’t wear it he will forever sleep on the couch. I want to expand on this, since I see it’s still passing around and the ideas have grown in my brainmeats. What drives Steve up the wall and down the other side is how… normal… everyone treats the Abominations. (Yes, that is their last name. No, it is not a joke. Son was asked his last name for the standardized testing at school, had a quick conference with Timmy, and decided that Son Abomination sounded good, “Since my dad calls your dad the Abomination anyway and we can paint it on your mailbox just like the Henderson’s did theirs!”. Antler Guy agreed and did a lovely rendition of it for the mailbox, with only a few glyphs of soul-rending terror added to keep up to snuff.) The Great Plant Exchange went beautifully, though the Audrey Jr. (named Aubergine for the lovely shade of purple poison that drips from her fangs) is on a diet at the moment. She was in cahoots with the cat and the dog to get into the good people food and ate two frozen turkeys all herself. Now she’s restricted to the hallway table to answer the phone and the door. (Steve actually likes her, and keeps slipping her hotdogs when Sharon isn’t looking. Their door-to-door salesman rates have dropped dramatically since she changed abodes.) Hell-wife has almost gotten the begonia to bloom and say it’s first words. The homeowner’s association just loves the Abominations. All paperwork stamped and dotted, in on time and in triplicate. Antler Guy likes filing, says it reminds him of his old job. There is a resident who spent 20 years as a lawyer and they have long, animated conversations about all sorts of things that make Steve swear to never need legal counsel. Hell-wife joined the PTA and spearheaded a committee to fundraise in the fall with a haunted house. It was a county-wide hit, though the claims that a particularly rowdy group had been deliberately lost in a timeslip to the Outer Doors Of Chaos was firmly rebuffed. Most young people nowadays, it was agreed, just couldn’t appreciate flute music. Antler Guy really does try to connect with Steve. The surprise birthday party was perhaps a bit much, given that most participants do not have the ability to suddenly materialize in front of the guest of honor to give them a hug. Sharon assured them that Steve normally screams on his birthday, and the remains of the cake were heartily enjoyed by all. (A plate was saved for Steve once he came down from the treehouse.) After the Hawaii trip (which was a present for his birthday) and the Matching Shirt Ultimatum (which was Sharon’s attempt at patching things up with Antler Guy, he really was sad about the birthday screaming), Steve finally grabs his courage in both hands (plus the shotgun, which let’s face it is about as useful as a teddybear at the moment but it does comfort him) and confronts Antler Guy, about why such a group of……Abominations could possibly come to his quiet slice of suburban bliss. “……BUT NEIGHBOR STEVE, WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.” “No no no, I read it in a book! Don’t you have to be invited or something?!” “WELL YES, TO THE HUMAN WORLD. BUT THIS IS NOT THE HUMAN WORLD AS YOUR THREE-DIMENSIONAL BRAIN PERCEIVES IT.” “What the hell does that mean?!!” “DID YOU NOT KNOW, NEIGHBOR STEVE? LEGALLY SPEAKING, ALL OF THE VASTNESS OF HUMAN SUBURBIA IS, IN FACT, A PART OF HELL.” “……..” “THE FLAMINGOES ARE THE BOUNDARY MARKERS. IT WAS DECIDED THAT THE FLAMING SKULLS WERE TOO KITSCHY FOR MODERN TIMES.” Reblogging cause I kind of want more of this…. Since you asked nicely ^_^ Antler Guy, as one may have noticed, is a calm sort of fellow. In the face of human atrocities he displays a curious Zen sort of state of mind. Timmy asks Son if he’d ever seen his dad angry, and Son hasn’t. (When asked, Timmy says that yeah his dad gets mad, but it’s like the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua down the street- mostly high-pitched noise and occasionally TV remote chewing. Sharon replaces the poor thing every 3 months or so.) When pressed (gently, at the monthly book club, and with many cups of tea and at least one daiquiri), Hellwife admits that this comes from serving many years at his old job. After the revelation of the nature of his neighborhood, Steve has not been overtly mean to Antler Guy. Not yet in the realm of friends, but vastly better than before. No more holy water, no more shotgun blasts. (Still the occasional jumpscare, but Antler Guy really can’t help that part.) They even occasionally share news over the fence as Antler Guy trains the creeping deathshade vines in proper oral hygiene, and Steve waters his lawn (and occasionally slips a goldfish cracker to a deathshade vine that looks particularly adorable. Aubergine has trained him well.) Which is how Antler Guy learns about the peeping tom that’s been plaguing the adjacent streets. Apparently the pervert has been getting bolder, and rattling doors. He almost broke into one apartment, whose occupants were a single mother and her daughter, Mildred. Millie, a shy girl who is a great horror fan and firm friends with Timmy and Son, had missed school because of it. Steve knew because Sharon had told him, on her way to deliver a tuna casserole and a double batch of brownies to the pair. (Sharon has been dubbed the unoffical mob boss of the Mother’s Mafia. She is quite pleased with this title.) He tells her to wait, confers briefly with Aubergine, and sends her along with, “Only as a loan, you know, but Auby wants to stretch her roots and she’d probably like getting all ribboned and curled anyway. Little girls still do that, right?” She has strict orders to bite anyone that makes Millie or her mother cry. (Steve is dubbed the official neighborhood marshmallow for this. The bookclub buys him a jar of marshmallow fluff in commemoration.) He turns to look at Antler Guy, and freezes, much as a chihuahua will when faced with a hungry hellhound. “You….you alright there buddy?” “Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “ “Uh, yeah, I guess not. Did you, uh, know you’re kinda fuzzing at the edges, there?” “Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “ “Right. Um. Well.” Steven makes a very ungraceful exit when space starts bending around Antler Guy’s still, unmoving form. When Steve sees a shadowy form in his back yard when he gets up to pee that night, there’s no hesitation. He grabs the shotgun from the cabinet and peeks out the back door window. Just in time to see a nebulous form of soul-wrenching terror engulf the man reaching for the door handle. A sliver of moonlight reveals a very familiar eyesocket. After a moment (and a sincere prayer of thanks that he had already peed, cause otherwise he’d have done it then and there) Steve opens the door. The nebulous form freezes, reality bending around the edges. “Nice night for it, huh?” “…..Y̮̮͍͔͇͙͙̟̐͌͛̓̏͞͡Eͩͭͮ̓̍ͯ̀ͧ͏̵̴̛̺̠̱͕̕ͅS͈̹̮̟̳̪̩̘͍̤̲̻͈̱̳̽̋́ͩ̃͋̎ͩ̈͆̀͘͢͢͟ͅ.̧̢͈̭̝̥̦͚͍̇ͫ̃̓͆̿̇ͪ͊ͧ̃͛͌͜͢ “ “Guy won’t scare anymore litttle girls, will he?” “Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “ “Good. G’night then. Oh, and if Hellwife has an extra Audrey Jr. that needs a home, let me know. Millie likes Aubergine a lot but Augy’s just too big for the apartment. Dunno if they come in miniatures though.” “ I̴̛̟̭͉̮̜̩̬̮̣̘̰͚̩͙̟̳͔̜̙͑̂̆̆͗͒̀ ͖̖̰͉̥͖͔̙̤̺͍̳͈̹͙̣̞̇̇ͤ͒̅̈́͆̽ͧ́̚̚̕͘W̶̶̱͈̞͖̼̟̣̮̌͂͒̈́͑͌͒͋̍ͮ͗̈ͣ̓ͤ͘͟I̴̶̞̥̩͇̔ͩͦ̇̉̾ͣͬ̀̀̒͒ͧ͛͌͛͆̚͘͢ͅͅL̠̟͕̠̟̪̰̻ͯ͂͊ͥ̍̏͋̐ͬ̉̆̈̀͠L̸̞̭͔̮ͦ͑̉ͮͩ́ͬͨͣ͘͜.̴͈͎̮͇͓͖̱̻̣͊͊ͤͩ͊̑͗͞ ̸̡̩̖̞̩̻̩̪̭͙̳͚͇̟̺͖̑͊ͫ̀͆ͨ̉̔̓̂̓̋T̷̷̟͉̟̻̻̪̞̰̯̻͈̣̰̬̻̾͐́ͭ̓̅́͡H͇̬̪̩̬̝̣͍͈͇ͯ͛̏͌ͮͧͭͦ͟͜A̴̴̤͕͈̤̮̞̱̯͔͕̙͔͖̰̬̰͈̠ͥ̏ͥ̍̽ͧ̀͝N͗̓͋̃̈̑̀̅ͣ̽̒̂̄ͯͩͤ͏̢͢͏͈̯͎̪͇̟̠͔̯͓͓̰̠̱̠̳͕̳͝K̢̓ͧ͛͛ͣ̄̓̓ͯ̍̈̈́̌͂̔͟҉̛̘̥̖̤̦̻̳͙͟ ̢̢̻̥̹̣̞͉̘͇͚͍̖̯̘͚͔̗̩͓͐ͮ͂͂̀̚͘͠Y̜̞͇̳̗̬͎̰̙̜̩̪͎̞̙̠̔͂̌̃́̀O͇̺̲͙͍̬̳̘͈̱̜̝͔̖̊ͥ̿ͫͤͫͫͩ͋̓̃ͦ̈̄͢͟Ū̢͖̲̦̠̤͎̙͉̦͖̖͓͍̺̺ͪͯ͐͆͆ͭͯ͗ͦ̄̅̌̈̃̾ͭ̋ͧ͢͢͠͡.̶̸̞͓̞̹̗̻̣͈͕̠̬̦ͫ̆ͤͬͨͦ͒͂ͨ̿ͩͪ͘͞.ͧ͛̒̂̂͗ͨ̌͆ͥͭ͒̉͘͜͏̙͖̰̝̙̲͓̙͕͍̥̳̩́͠.̶̷̮͎̱̼̬͖̰͎͚͙̥̓͋͋ͦ̓̓ͯ͆͛̏ͫ̅ͯ.̨̧̙̤̳̮̺̙͖̞͔̗͎͍̑̆ͮ͐ͩͦ̌̽̾̏͘͠.̹̖͕̮͕̞̰͍͚͖̌ͪ̃̐̐̌̌̅̉͑ͧͪͪͬ̓͐́͛̿͘͞ ….NEIGHBOR STEVE.” “Anytime.” There are no more peeping reports. Millie brings back Aubergine and spends an entire afternoon teaching Steve the particulars of Augy’s new “hairstyle” (a gravity-defying mass of teased tendrils, ribbons, and barrettes) in between games of tag and hide-and-seek with Timmy and Son. When Antler Guy and Hellwife present her and her mother Beatrice with a tiny Audrey Jr. (”pOOr ThinG Is a ruNT And wOn’T geT MorE Than A FooT taLL, BEa, aNd NeeDS a New FRiEnD”, assures Hellwife), both mother and child burst out crying. Millie names it Bella, after Bella Lugosi, and shows it to the excited group of boys (Steve and Augy included). IT GOT SO MUCH BETTER!!!! Life in a subdivision partly populated with eldritch and possibly magical (officially classified as “extra-dimensional”, for even when faced with the physics-defying nature of their new co-habitating citizens the government cannot bring itself to acknowledge them as “magic wielding hell-beasts”, as some high-ranking staff members initially suggested) goes on fairly normally. Sure, there are a few hiccoughs. The creeping deathshade vines get a stern talking to about appropriate afternoon snacks (”NOT the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua, I don’t care how much he has it coming or what he excreted where, now spit it out!”), Aubergine sheds all her leaves at once and snowballs the house (but does helps sweep up afterwards), and moonrise is a good time to watch the night-gaunts fly by (but on moondark it’s best to stay inside, no matter how prettily they glow. They’re somewhat similar to fireflies, and don’t always check to see if their partner glows as well. It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if they didn’t dive mid-coitus and drop just above the ground.) While the neighborhood in general is accepting of the Abominations, when things get to be a bit much they tend to come to Steve. Since meeting Beatrice and Millie (and the formation of the Terrifying Triad known as Millie, Son, and Timmy) Steve is the adult human male most comfortable dealing with Antler Guy on the whole street. (Sharon as U.M.B. is widely held to have, well, steel-whatever-the-hell-she-wants, and Timmy is known to run over to Antler Guy and ask for rides through “that wobbly grey place, you know, the one with the REALLY BIG alligators?”. Still, the courtesies must be observed.) So when a writhing sparking ball of snarling terror and teeth takes up residence in the Manzo’s tool-shed, and when Animal Control refuses to come (the street is banned due to a run-in with the deathshade vines), Steve is called. Having heard the description, Steve brings Antler Guy. When they get there, Mr. Manzo is forcibly holding the door shut. Unholy yowling is coming from inside. At a gesture from Antler Guy, Mr. Manzo leaps away, and the doors blast open. A 150 pound ball of whimpering, flaming something hits Steve and knocks him on his ass. The whimpering, flaming something proceeds to slobber all over Steve, his shirt, his pants, and a decent portion of grass in between distressed yelps. “GACK!” “NEIGHBOR STEVE, ARE YOU IN DISTRESS?” “GAAACKLEARGHSPLUH- DOWN boy, HEEL, that’s a good- Antler Guy, what is this?!” “I BELIEVE IT IS A HELLHOUND, NEIGHBOR STEVE.” “Good grief, I didn’t know they came this big and…..and….. Guy?” “YES NEIGHBOR STEVE?” “Is he supposed to be…..skinless?” “YES NEIGHBOR STEVE. THIS VARIETY WAS BRED TO BE LAP DOGS. THEIR FLAME IS MOSTLY WITHOUT HEAT, AND THEY HAVE NO SKIN FOR THOSE WHO ARE ALLERGIC.” “…….laPDOG?!” “YES NEIGHBOR STEVE.” Antler Guy lays a hand on the hellhound, who tries to burrow further into Steve with little success. “HE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN RECENTLY WEANED. IT WILL TAKE TIME FOR HIM TO GROW TO HIS FULL SIZE.” “……” “THE SMALL BREEDS GROW MORE SLOWLY.” A vile hissing emanates from the shed. (Mr. Manzo has long since fled for the safety of his kitchen.) As Steve attempts to calm the frantic hell-puppy, Antler Guy investigates. He reaches one long hand in behind the riding lawnmower and….. winces. “NEIGHBOR STEVE?” “Yeah- I’m right here, uh, doggie, not going anywhere- Guy?” “I APPEAR TO HAVE AN…. ATTACHMENT.” Steve is awed at the tiny ball of white fluff attached to one long, thin finger. He didn’t know that Antler Guy’s fingers COULD be bitten, much less by a tiny kitten. Which is how Steve and Sharon got Clifford (”Aww c’mon Sharon, how could I pass that one up?”), and Antler Guy and Hellwife get Fluffy (”NEIGHBOR STEVE ASSURES ME IT IS A TRADITIONAL TITLE.”) This might be the most amazing thing that ever crossed my tumblr dash OMIGOSH I’m in love. I LOVE EVERY BIT OF THIS This is like the stoplight post. It is Tumblr legend, and I feel I must reblog it for those fortunate few who get to experience it for the first time.
Sights: bibliotecaria-d:
ebonykain:

karacat:

othersideofforty:

erinnightwalker:

ripped-up-jeans-and-glitter:

erinnightwalker:


acaffeinejunkie:

erinnightwalker:

erinnightwalker:

geostatonary:

sixpenceee:

“A house I pass on the way to work has this sculpture in its yard. Its about 8 feet tall.”
(Source)

“HELLO NEIGHBOR STEVE, I WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO BARBEQUE ON THE EVE OF THE BLOOD MOON.  I FEEL WE GOT OFF TO A BAD START.”
“NEIGHBOR STEVE, DO YOU NOT WISH TO PARTAKE OF THE UNCLEAN FLESH-MEATS OF PIGS AND THE POLLUTED ESSENCES OF TOMATO?  PERHAPS YOU ARE A CAROLINA STYLE MAN, NEIGHBOR STEVE?”
 “PUT THE GUN AWAY NEIGHBOR STEVE, YOU KNOW I SHALL ONLY RISE AGAIN WITH THE DAWNING OF THE MOON.  WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS MANY TIMES.”
“LOOK AT THIS PICTURE MY SON DREW OF YOU AND CHILD TIMMY, YOUR SON.  ARE THEY NOT THE PICTURE OF PACT-MATES?  THIS COULD BE YOU AND ME, NEIGHBOR STEVE.”
“YOU MISSED THE UNHOLY NEXUS OF POWER THAT IS THE KEY TO MY CORPOREAL FORM, NEIGHBOR STEVE.  YOU WILL NEED TO RELOAD NOW, SO I WILL GO INSIDE TO MY HELL-WIFE AND PUT YOU DOWN AS A SOLID ‘MAYBE’.“

I have the feeling that the families get along great except for Steve. Like, the wives are baking (questionable) brownies together, the kids are playing together, Antler Guy occasionally takes Son and Timmy to school (no car, just carries them in huge swinging strides through a nexus of ungoldly sights in a swirling netherworld shortcut. Sometimes they stop for McDonalds). Hell-wife gave them a potted Audrey Jr., Steve’s wife (who I now christen Sharon) gave them a begonia.
One time Steve tries throwing holy water but all Antler Guy does is thank him, saying that no, Antler Guy isn’t Catholic but it’s the thought that counts, he is so kind to water his creeping deathshade vines regardless.
For Christmas Antler Guy gives Steve a case of ammunition. To be funny/sarcastically mean Steve gets Antler Guy the world’s most hideous Christmas sweater, singing light-up reindeer included. He immediately regrets it because not only does Antler Guy love it and wears it for several months, it will never need batteries because Antler Guy powers it with his own eldritch aura.
When they come back from a holiday to Hawaii, Steve is horrified to find out Sharon bought them matching Hawaiian shirts. He is even more horrified that his wife means it that if he doesn’t wear it he will forever sleep on the couch.

I want to expand on this, since I see it’s still passing around and the ideas have grown in my brainmeats.
What drives Steve up the wall and down the other side is how… normal… everyone treats the Abominations. (Yes, that is their last name. No, it is not a joke. Son was asked his last name for the standardized testing at school, had a quick conference with Timmy, and decided that Son Abomination sounded good, “Since my dad calls your dad the Abomination anyway and we can paint it on your mailbox just like the Henderson’s did theirs!”. Antler Guy agreed and did a lovely rendition of it for the mailbox, with only a few glyphs of soul-rending terror added to keep up to snuff.)
The Great Plant Exchange went beautifully, though the Audrey Jr. (named Aubergine for the lovely shade of purple poison that drips from her fangs) is on a diet at the moment. She was in cahoots with the cat and the dog to get into the good people food and ate two frozen turkeys all herself. Now she’s restricted to the hallway table to answer the phone and the door. (Steve actually likes her, and keeps slipping her hotdogs when Sharon isn’t looking. Their door-to-door salesman rates have dropped dramatically since she changed abodes.) Hell-wife has almost gotten the begonia to bloom and say it’s first words.
The homeowner’s association just loves the Abominations. All paperwork stamped and dotted, in on time and in triplicate. Antler Guy likes filing, says it reminds him of his old job. There is a resident who spent 20 years as a lawyer and they have long, animated conversations about all sorts of things that make Steve swear to never need legal counsel.
Hell-wife joined the PTA and spearheaded a committee to fundraise in the fall with a haunted house. It was a county-wide hit, though the claims that a particularly rowdy group had been deliberately lost in a timeslip to the Outer Doors Of Chaos was firmly rebuffed. Most young people nowadays, it was agreed, just couldn’t appreciate flute music.
Antler Guy really does try to connect with Steve. The surprise birthday party was perhaps a bit much, given that most participants do not have the ability to suddenly materialize in front of the guest of honor to give them a hug. Sharon assured them that Steve normally screams on his birthday, and the remains of the cake were heartily enjoyed by all. (A plate was saved for Steve once he came down from the treehouse.)
After the Hawaii trip (which was a present for his birthday) and the Matching Shirt Ultimatum (which was Sharon’s attempt at patching things up with Antler Guy, he really was sad about the birthday screaming), Steve finally grabs his courage in both hands (plus the shotgun, which let’s face it is about as useful as a teddybear at the moment but it does comfort him) and confronts Antler Guy, about why such a group of……Abominations could possibly come to his quiet slice of suburban bliss.
“……BUT NEIGHBOR STEVE, WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.”
“No no no, I read it in a book! Don’t you have to be invited or something?!”
“WELL YES, TO THE HUMAN WORLD. BUT THIS IS NOT THE HUMAN WORLD AS YOUR THREE-DIMENSIONAL BRAIN PERCEIVES IT.”
“What the hell does that mean?!!”
“DID YOU NOT KNOW, NEIGHBOR STEVE? LEGALLY SPEAKING, ALL OF THE VASTNESS OF HUMAN SUBURBIA IS, IN FACT, A PART OF HELL.”
“……..”
“THE FLAMINGOES ARE THE BOUNDARY MARKERS. IT WAS DECIDED THAT THE FLAMING SKULLS WERE TOO KITSCHY FOR MODERN TIMES.”

Reblogging cause I kind of want more of this….


Since you asked nicely ^_^
Antler Guy, as one may have noticed, is a calm sort of fellow. In the face of human atrocities he displays a curious Zen sort of state of mind. Timmy asks Son if he’d ever seen his dad angry, and Son hasn’t. (When asked, Timmy says that yeah his dad gets mad, but it’s like the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua down the street- mostly high-pitched noise and occasionally TV remote chewing. Sharon replaces the poor thing every 3 months or so.) When pressed (gently, at the monthly book club, and with many cups of tea and at least one daiquiri), Hellwife admits that this comes from serving many years at his old job.
After the revelation of the nature of his neighborhood, Steve has not been overtly mean to Antler Guy. Not yet in the realm of friends, but vastly better than before. No more holy water, no more shotgun blasts. (Still the occasional jumpscare, but Antler Guy really can’t help that part.) They even occasionally share news over the fence as Antler Guy trains the creeping deathshade vines in proper oral hygiene, and Steve waters his lawn (and occasionally slips a goldfish cracker to a deathshade vine that looks particularly adorable. Aubergine has trained him well.)
Which is how Antler Guy learns about the peeping tom that’s been plaguing the adjacent streets. Apparently the pervert has been getting bolder, and rattling doors. He almost broke into one apartment, whose occupants were a single mother and her daughter, Mildred. Millie, a shy girl who is a great horror fan and firm friends with Timmy and Son, had missed school because of it.
Steve knew because Sharon had told him, on her way to deliver a tuna casserole and a double batch of brownies to the pair. (Sharon has been dubbed the unoffical mob boss of the Mother’s Mafia. She is quite pleased with this title.) He tells her to wait, confers briefly with Aubergine, and sends her along with, “Only as a loan, you know, but Auby wants to stretch her roots and she’d probably like getting all ribboned and curled anyway. Little girls still do that, right?” She has strict orders to bite anyone that makes Millie or her mother cry. (Steve is dubbed the official neighborhood marshmallow for this. The bookclub buys him a jar of marshmallow fluff in commemoration.)
He turns to look at Antler Guy, and freezes, much as a chihuahua will when faced with a hungry hellhound.
“You….you alright there buddy?”



“Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “

“Uh, yeah, I guess not. Did you, uh, know you’re kinda fuzzing at the edges, there?”



“Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “

“Right. Um. Well.” 
Steven makes a very ungraceful exit when space starts bending around Antler Guy’s still, unmoving form.
When Steve sees a shadowy form in his back yard when he gets up to pee that night, there’s no hesitation. He grabs the shotgun from the cabinet and peeks out the back door window.
Just in time to see a nebulous form of soul-wrenching terror engulf the man reaching for the door handle. A sliver of moonlight reveals a very familiar eyesocket. After a moment (and a sincere prayer of thanks that he had already peed, cause otherwise he’d have done it then and there) Steve opens the door. The nebulous form freezes, reality bending around the edges.
“Nice night for it, huh?”


“…..Y̮̮͍͔͇͙͙̟̐͌͛̓̏͞͡Eͩͭͮ̓̍ͯ̀ͧ͏̵̴̛̺̠̱͕̕ͅS͈̹̮̟̳̪̩̘͍̤̲̻͈̱̳̽̋́ͩ̃͋̎ͩ̈͆̀͘͢͢͟ͅ.̧̢͈̭̝̥̦͚͍̇ͫ̃̓͆̿̇ͪ͊ͧ̃͛͌͜͢

“

“Guy won’t scare anymore litttle girls, will he?”



“Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “

“Good. G’night then. Oh, and if Hellwife has an extra Audrey Jr. that needs a home, let me know. Millie likes Aubergine a lot but Augy’s just too big for the apartment. Dunno if they come in miniatures though.”


“
I̴̛̟̭͉̮̜̩̬̮̣̘̰͚̩͙̟̳͔̜̙͑̂̆̆͗͒̀ 
͖̖̰͉̥͖͔̙̤̺͍̳͈̹͙̣̞̇̇ͤ͒̅̈́͆̽ͧ́̚̚̕͘W̶̶̱͈̞͖̼̟̣̮̌͂͒̈́͑͌͒͋̍ͮ͗̈ͣ̓ͤ͘͟I̴̶̞̥̩͇̔ͩͦ̇̉̾ͣͬ̀̀̒͒ͧ͛͌͛͆̚͘͢ͅͅL̠̟͕̠̟̪̰̻ͯ͂͊ͥ̍̏͋̐ͬ̉̆̈̀͠L̸̞̭͔̮ͦ͑̉ͮͩ́ͬͨͣ͘͜.̴͈͎̮͇͓͖̱̻̣͊͊ͤͩ͊̑͗͞
 
̸̡̩̖̞̩̻̩̪̭͙̳͚͇̟̺͖̑͊ͫ̀͆ͨ̉̔̓̂̓̋T̷̷̟͉̟̻̻̪̞̰̯̻͈̣̰̬̻̾͐́ͭ̓̅́͡H͇̬̪̩̬̝̣͍͈͇ͯ͛̏͌ͮͧͭͦ͟͜A̴̴̤͕͈̤̮̞̱̯͔͕̙͔͖̰̬̰͈̠ͥ̏ͥ̍̽ͧ̀͝N͗̓͋̃̈̑̀̅ͣ̽̒̂̄ͯͩͤ͏̢͢͏͈̯͎̪͇̟̠͔̯͓͓̰̠̱̠̳͕̳͝K̢̓ͧ͛͛ͣ̄̓̓ͯ̍̈̈́̌͂̔͟҉̛̘̥̖̤̦̻̳͙͟
 
̢̢̻̥̹̣̞͉̘͇͚͍̖̯̘͚͔̗̩͓͐ͮ͂͂̀̚͘͠Y̜̞͇̳̗̬͎̰̙̜̩̪͎̞̙̠̔͂̌̃́̀O͇̺̲͙͍̬̳̘͈̱̜̝͔̖̊ͥ̿ͫͤͫͫͩ͋̓̃ͦ̈̄͢͟Ū̢͖̲̦̠̤͎̙͉̦͖̖͓͍̺̺ͪͯ͐͆͆ͭͯ͗ͦ̄̅̌̈̃̾ͭ̋ͧ͢͢͠͡.̶̸̞͓̞̹̗̻̣͈͕̠̬̦ͫ̆ͤͬͨͦ͒͂ͨ̿ͩͪ͘͞.ͧ͛̒̂̂͗ͨ̌͆ͥͭ͒̉͘͜͏̙͖̰̝̙̲͓̙͕͍̥̳̩́͠.̶̷̮͎̱̼̬͖̰͎͚͙̥̓͋͋ͦ̓̓ͯ͆͛̏ͫ̅ͯ.̨̧̙̤̳̮̺̙͖̞͔̗͎͍̑̆ͮ͐ͩͦ̌̽̾̏͘͠.̹̖͕̮͕̞̰͍͚͖̌ͪ̃̐̐̌̌̅̉͑ͧͪͪͬ̓͐́͛̿͘͞ ….NEIGHBOR STEVE.”

“Anytime.”
There are no more peeping reports. Millie brings back Aubergine and spends an entire afternoon teaching Steve the particulars of Augy’s new “hairstyle” (a gravity-defying mass of teased tendrils, ribbons, and barrettes) in between games of tag and hide-and-seek with Timmy and Son.
When Antler Guy and Hellwife present her and her mother Beatrice with a tiny Audrey Jr. (”pOOr ThinG Is a ruNT And wOn’T geT MorE Than A FooT taLL, BEa, aNd NeeDS a New FRiEnD”, assures Hellwife), both mother and child burst out crying. Millie names it Bella, after Bella Lugosi, and shows it to the excited group of boys (Steve and Augy included).


IT GOT SO MUCH BETTER!!!!

Life in a subdivision partly populated with eldritch and possibly magical (officially classified as “extra-dimensional”, for even when faced with the physics-defying nature of their new co-habitating citizens the government cannot bring itself to acknowledge them as “magic wielding hell-beasts”, as some high-ranking staff members initially suggested) goes on fairly normally. 
Sure, there are a few hiccoughs. The creeping deathshade vines get a stern talking to about appropriate afternoon snacks (”NOT the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua, I don’t care how much he has it coming or what he excreted where, now spit it out!”), Aubergine sheds all her leaves at once and snowballs the house (but does helps sweep up afterwards), and moonrise is a good time to watch the night-gaunts fly by (but on moondark it’s best to stay inside, no matter how prettily they glow. They’re somewhat similar to fireflies, and don’t always check to see if their partner glows as well. It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if they didn’t dive mid-coitus and drop just above the ground.)
While the neighborhood in general is accepting of the Abominations, when things get to be a bit much they tend to come to Steve. Since meeting Beatrice and Millie (and the formation of the Terrifying Triad known as Millie, Son, and Timmy) Steve is the adult human male most comfortable dealing with Antler Guy on the whole street. (Sharon as U.M.B. is widely held to have, well, steel-whatever-the-hell-she-wants, and Timmy is known to run over to Antler Guy and ask for rides through “that wobbly grey place, you know, the one with the REALLY BIG alligators?”. Still, the courtesies must be observed.)
So when a writhing sparking ball of snarling terror and teeth takes up residence in the Manzo’s tool-shed, and when Animal Control refuses to come (the street is banned due to a run-in with the deathshade vines), Steve is called. Having heard the description, Steve brings Antler Guy.
When they get there, Mr. Manzo is forcibly holding the door shut. Unholy yowling is coming from inside. At a gesture from Antler Guy, Mr. Manzo leaps away, and the doors blast open.
A 150 pound ball of whimpering, flaming something hits Steve and knocks him on his ass. The whimpering, flaming something proceeds to slobber all over Steve, his shirt, his pants, and a decent portion of grass in between distressed yelps.
“GACK!”
“NEIGHBOR STEVE, ARE YOU IN DISTRESS?”
“GAAACKLEARGHSPLUH- DOWN boy, HEEL, that’s a good- Antler Guy, what is this?!”
“I BELIEVE IT IS A HELLHOUND, NEIGHBOR STEVE.”
“Good grief, I didn’t know they came this big and…..and….. Guy?”
“YES NEIGHBOR STEVE?”
“Is he supposed to be…..skinless?”
“YES NEIGHBOR STEVE. THIS VARIETY WAS BRED TO BE LAP DOGS. THEIR FLAME IS MOSTLY WITHOUT HEAT, AND THEY HAVE NO SKIN FOR THOSE WHO ARE ALLERGIC.”
“…….laPDOG?!”
“YES NEIGHBOR STEVE.” Antler Guy lays a hand on the hellhound, who tries to burrow further into Steve with little success. “HE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN RECENTLY WEANED. IT WILL TAKE TIME FOR HIM TO GROW TO HIS FULL SIZE.”
“……”
“THE SMALL BREEDS GROW MORE SLOWLY.”
A vile hissing emanates from the shed. (Mr. Manzo has long since fled for the safety of his kitchen.) As Steve attempts to calm the frantic hell-puppy, Antler Guy investigates. He reaches one long hand in behind the riding lawnmower and….. winces.
“NEIGHBOR STEVE?”
“Yeah- I’m right here, uh, doggie, not going anywhere- Guy?”
“I APPEAR TO HAVE AN…. ATTACHMENT.”
Steve is awed at the tiny ball of white fluff attached to one long, thin finger. He didn’t know that Antler Guy’s fingers COULD be bitten, much less by a tiny kitten.
Which is how Steve and Sharon got Clifford (”Aww c’mon Sharon, how could I pass that one up?”), and Antler Guy and Hellwife get Fluffy (”NEIGHBOR STEVE ASSURES ME IT IS A TRADITIONAL TITLE.”)


This might be the most amazing thing that ever crossed my tumblr dash


OMIGOSH I’m in love.


I LOVE EVERY BIT OF THIS

This is like the stoplight post. It is Tumblr legend, and I feel I must reblog it for those fortunate few who get to experience it for the first time.

bibliotecaria-d: ebonykain: karacat: othersideofforty: erinnightwalker: ripped-up-jeans-and-glitter: erinnightwalker: acaffeinejun...