does it come in black?

-insp-

My life isn’t really that interesting. I mean, I find it very interesting, but it’s not gonna sell a newspaper. — Cillian Murphy, VMan

I can’t do justice to one of the weirdest camp stories I know. My friend tells it so well, and I can offer only a pale shadow of his story.

Last summer, he was working with one of the younger units comprised of ten year old boys. They had spent the night camping on another beach and were just readying themselves to depart. “Make sure you have all your things!” called my friend. “Don’t leave anything behind!”

One small boy came up, dragging a massive tangle of decomposing seaweed behind him. “But… what about me boy?” he asked, lip trembling.

“…what is ‘me boy’?”

The child held up the stinking wad of bull kelp. “This is him. This is Me Boy.”

“Me Boy is not coming back with us,” said his counselor. “You’re going to leave Me Boy behind on the beach where he belongs.”

The campers loudly mourned the loss of Me Boy. They insisted on giving him a Viking burial at sea, which just consisted of pushing him solemnly off the back of the rowboat into the water and watching him drift away in the surf.

That was only the beginning. Me Boy would be back.

The campers, in true camp fashion, possessed some kind of cultic hive-mind and a predisposition for bizarre memes. Me Boy would not be forgotten. They started telling each other stories about Me Boy and how he would one day rise again. There were warring factions with contradicting dogmas about Me Boy. Only when the gardener allowed them to take home a zucchini she had harvested did they find their god, born anew.

Me Boy, The Zucchini That Was A God, became the whole unit’s mascot. The kids would bicker over who got to carry him. They built nests and carriers for Me Boy and brought him to different activities, fiercely defending him from those that would do him harm. One child appointed himself the Voice of Me Boy and would translate the zucchini’s divine wishes into human speech.

It got out of hand. Me Boy had become a distraction, a fixation, a violent controversy. Something had to be done.

My friend, their counselor, took it upon himself to kill Me Boy. The children wailed in despair as he chopped their God into refreshing slices. With this sudden turn of fortune, followers of Me Boy turned to theophagy. “We must eat him to preserve his power!” they cried. Boys who would otherwise never have touched a vegetable ate greedily of this sacrament, eager to let Me Boy live on within them.

For a time, it seemed that peace and order had been restored, and the religion had already faded into its silver age. But only for a time.

In the last few days of camp, the religion of Me Boy splintered into several denominations. Every meal yielded new vegetable matter said to be a reincarnation of Me Boy, only for opposing groups to dismiss these as false prophets. Some believed that Me Boy was gone. Others believed his spirit lived on, intangible, omnipresent. Some believed he had found a new vessel inside a carrot, a pear, a slice of cantaloupe… even inside a child. There was chaos, and strife, and heartbreak without the guidance of Me Boy.

I feel this is relevant once again after last night game

Rich Clune has no business looking this good (via his IG story)

thinking about a new type of math problem that goes “the still-thankfully-nebulous concept of a Watch tv series” + “my love and loyalty for h. vetinari as a character and person” + “riz ahmed, a talented and underutilized british actor in his prime” + “the high likelihood that an old white man will play this character instead” = “extreme and unrealistic optimism with absolutely no basis” 

I’m extremely here for this on several levels

i rarely do anything straight-up digitally, but here’s this goopy inktober Venom

John Constantine by Patrick Zircher.

everything about david pastrnak makes me smile. he didn’t have an easy childhood, money was tight and his father died when he was a teenager. and yet he comes to the rink every day with a bright smile on his face, making his teammates laugh. He has a tattoo that expresses his heartbreak with his father’s passing and a tattoo right over his heart with hockey sticks that says “because I love it.” just something about him is so, genuine. like that happiness is hard earned. he had to work for it and damn it if he’s not going to spread it and express it all he can. 

also his relationship with William Nylander is so gentle and genuine on it’s own?? they were 15 when they met and Pasta only spoke Czech so they needed to find a way to communicate. So you know what they did? they talked through google translate. Nylander describes him as fun and lively and a blast to be around. He said “When we see each other it’s like we haven’t missed each other at all.” before their first game together they went for a walk where Nylander almost walked into a tree, prompting Pasta to say “you better not do it tomorrow, keep your head up.”

(x)

i always thought it was funny how in the lord of the rings sam and frodo head out and after awhile sam’s like “mr. frodo if i take one more step this is the farthest from the shire ive ever been” and then a ways after they meet up with merry and pippin on their daily vegetable run like jesus christ sam get out of the house once in awhile

Okay to be fair Sam is a working class dude with a physical job who lives on the west side of the Shire while Merry and Pippin are spoiled rich kids with loads of leisure time who live a decent ways further east so cut the guy a break he carries the One Ring to Mount Doom when Frodo can’t and does not deserve this kind of talk. 

im here for this tolkien callout culture

sirius black: imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, escaped to go commit that crime as fast as possible

middle earth meme » villains

Poe Dameron by Kevin Wada

that second one is based on one of the “chris evans, the gas station twink” photos and seeing it applied to poe dameron has left me deceased.