That’s no lamp, that’s not even a lämp. That’s a proper LØMP!
Moth devouring his lamp
Submitted 2 months ago by GenitalHurricane@lemmy.world to [deleted]
https://lemmy.world/pictrs/image/08893936-23eb-4e87-b016-a330113d78e0.png
Comments
5ibelius9insterberg@feddit.org 2 months ago
HeyThisIsntTheYMCA@lemmy.world 2 months ago
It’s a collectors edition too
5ibelius9insterberg@feddit.org 2 months ago
Yep, it’s the LØMP, but the special LÆMP-Editon^TM^
Godric@lemmy.world 2 months ago
This has got to be my favorite shit.
Gullible@sh.itjust.works 2 months ago
“And he was cast down into the rolling expanse from which he carved ebon dominion. Those careful few who continue to tread upon his midnight kingdom have granted him a name, the only thing he could not take for himself. Fur Lucis.”
edupo@europe.pub 2 months ago
This is amazing! So much so that I got compelled to create the oposite.
y0kai@lemmy.dbzer0.com 2 months ago
crystal moth strikes again
MonkderVierte@lemmy.zip 2 months ago
I almost blocked you, but then saw that this is your very first moth post. You have a chance to redeem yourself by not posting any more moth posts.
Rampsquatch@sh.itjust.works 2 months ago
Oh no, OP you better watch out! A not even a month old account might block you!
MonkderVierte@lemmy.zip 2 months ago
People can switch servers, you know?
supersquirrel@sopuli.xyz 2 months ago
Yes, damned odd. The plan is to smash up Byron and send him back right there in the shop to cullet and batch—salvage the tungsten, of course—and let him be reincarnated in the glassblower’s next project (a balloon setting out on a journey from the top of a white skyscraper). This wouldn’t be too bad a deal for Byron—he knows as well as Phoebus does how many hours he has on him. Here in the shop he’s watched enough glass being melted back into the structureless pool from which all glass forms spring and re-spring, and wouldn’t mind going through it himself. But he is trapped on the Karmic wheel. The glowing orange batch is a taunt, a cruelty. There’s no escape for Byron, he’s doomed to an infinite regress of sockets and bulbsnatchers. In zips young Hansel Mothwing, a Weimar Moth—twirls Byron out of the ceiling into a careful pocket and moith noises out the door again. Darkness invades the dreams of the glassblower. Of all the unpleasantries his dreams grab in out of the night air, an extinguished light is the worst. Light, in his dreams, was always hope: the basic, mortal hope. As the contacts break helically away, hope turns to darkness, and the glassblower wakes sharply tonight crying, "Who? Who?‘’
Flocklesscrow@lemm.ee 2 months ago
This is awesome
loomy@lemy.lol 2 months ago
this is starting to go too far
ShaggySnacks@lemmy.myserv.one 2 months ago
Yes, Moth. This one right here is preaching heresy.
SnokenKeekaGuard@lemmy.dbzer0.com 2 months ago
What does one do once they have achieved all they could ever have dreamed of?
FabioTheNewOrder@lemmy.world 2 months ago
Sit down and enjoy the ride, my dude
blaue_Fledermaus@mstdn.io 2 months ago
Fun curiosity: the original Goya painting was found in his house after he died and its intended meaning, if any, is unknown.