The Human Spine Is A Joke Why Do My Shoes Effect How Much My Back Hurts I'm Gonna Kill You

Jackpot

Bugs Bunny isn’t your conventional trickster god - he doesn’t steal or lie; rather he inflicts on us a societal hubris. He traps us in the rules, conventions and expectations we’ve made. Forcing us to go through the niceties of the barbershop or DMV at the times most inconvenient to us. If we didn’t have these rules - if it was twelve thousand years ago and all we had was a snare and a knife, Bugs would be nothing more than a mortal rabbit. But now we have built so much and he has become a god.  

is this how you make a cake?

The mashup you never thought would work

it's 2022. donald trump has died in disgrace days after being impeached and jailed. my chemical romance's new album is coming out the same day as the new spiderverse movie. the lizzo and janelle monaé collab song is blowing up the radio. lil nas x has a verse in it. you and your partner have time and energy for dates after work after jeff bezos' assets have been seized and distributed to the public in the wake of his arrest for keeping employees in unsafe working conditions.

This is the Diavolo of Mischief and luck. Share it and tomorrow you will have blessed Gatcha draw luck.

A Skyrim concept I find fascinating and terrifying to think about: the idea of the Dragonborn’s Voice abilities growing far, far beyond what we see them achieve in-game.

You’re jumped by a wolf on the road, but all you do is turn your head and say ‘krii.’  The beast crumples in mid-leap. A bandit ambushes you, thinks you’re easy prey - but you stand motionless, stare at them. ‘Krii lun aus,’ and they drop to their knees, gasping for breath as their life essence trickles away until they’re still. You don’t even need to raise your weapon.

A crime or a misunderstanding lands you in jail. Feim. You pull your wrists through the chains and step through the bars. Finally home after a long day of fighting, you mutter feim and step out of your armour, letting it fall through your body and clatter to the ground. 

Storm Call. With time, with practice, you learn how to control the lightning completely, so that it no longer strikes your allies. You can choose exactly when and where it hits, scorching the life from your enemies with surgical precision. There’s nowhere for them to hide.

Fus ro dah. The Shout tears up trees at the root, sends dragons smacking into mountainsides, rips buildings to their foundations.

Dragon Aspect. As your connection to the dragon souls inside you deepens, you notice that you’re not just growing ethereal armour. You can rip apart rock with the ghostly talons that shimmer around your fingers. You can lash people to the ground with the tail. And then the day comes when you stand at the edge of a cliff, breathe in deep, spread the shining wings - and take flight.

You barely need to catch your breath between Shouts anymore. You ghost around the battlefield, turning ethereal when your enemies attack and then - wuld nah kest - rushing in to strike the moment you blink back into existence. You freeze half of them solid with Ice Form and turn around to burn the rest to ash with a long, long jet of fire from your mouth. 

What I’m saying is, the Dragonborn is an unstoppable force of nature, and I wonder how much effort it takes for them to keep all that power under control. 

Fuck that Old Man.