#that's no good

[canisalbus]

What if Machete's nickname for Vasco was honey? (Because milk and honey 🍯 🥛)

.

[pickapea]

my job is reactivating and rehabilitating patients in post surgery care and one of the first things i tell them once they've tried to drink some juice and stand on their legs without throwing up is "every bite is a good bite" and i think that's a good sentiment for everyone

[winterreigned]

"i burn for you" from theon in westerton au eyes emoji // @prodigum

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒, drowning under the heat, suffocating over the tension. theon greyjoy is much like the waves of the ocean ; appealing, though eager to push you under the weight of his force. sansa is more than willing to drown, for the water would extinguish the flames he has caused to arise within her. though at times, much like this, she feels it is impossible to cease the fire he has started in her heart.

her expression remains startled, despite these being the very words she so desperately craved to hear. it is impossible, she thinks, for someone like him to want someone like her. he was her brother's best friend, a duke ──── unobtainable in every way. he himself has declared that he would not take a wife. yet, here they were, engaged in a standoff she was ready to relinquish. for if it meant even an evening as his (though society forbid such a temporary release), would be an evening well worth it.

❝ theon, ❞ she whispers, dropping formality of titles. they were past this, they were so much more than society has dubbed them to be. sansa is very seldom speechless, she always is in control ; though the more time she spends around theon greyjoy, the less she finds this to be the case. I BURN FOR YOU TOO, she wants to say. in fact, she is so engulfed in flames, she is ready to scream it upon rooftop after rooftop in westeros, for all to hear. sansa remains hopeful a confession will extinguish her from this torment of longing.

❝ i beg of you, ❞ the lady begins, voice hushed as they're hidden away from view in the gardens. ❝ free me from this torment. ❞ the torture she endures is him, from not being his, from not being touched and loved by him. how easy a remedy, though the pride in asking for such a cure could kill her. in this moment, she is practically pleading. blue eyes much more desperate than words or tone can convey. sansa steps forward, hands cupping his cheek, her own teeth coming to tug on her bottom lip.

I BURN FOR YOU, EXTINGUISH ME.

[littlehen]

For Christmas, a family member got me a hideous and expensive mug with the word 'Love' on it and they'd left the price tag on, so I took it back to the shop and asked if I could maybe exchange it. (In my old shop, if there was no receipt then we would exchange it or put the same amount on a giftcard, so I thought it was worth a try.) The sales assistant said no, their policy was no refund without proof of sale. I said, okay never mind. The sales assistant looked at me sadly and said, haltingly, 'it's just... the mug... it says 'Love' on it... and you want to return it?' I didn't know what to reply so I said, 'oh I just don't like things with words on' and she looked at my sweatshirt which said 'the dogtor is in: I prescribe walkies' and said 'oh...'

[coffincoitus]

barry ended when it needed to end but I miss it. I miss the casual violence. with prestige tv you usually have to wait a billion episodes to see some guy's head get blown up. but with barry it was brains and blood every week

[mortuusrege]

love/violence

when i become so ecstatic that my bones are buzzing underneath my skin, i do not yell and shout and dance to show it, but instead i sink my nails into my flesh and drag, down, down, down as if i will somehow relieve my ecstasy if i open enough holes for it to escape from i have never found love in kisses and affection, but instead the blue marks of nails on my skin, stunning, dazzling crescent moons, fallen onto me to create craters where i may store it.

[itsscaredycat]

so ok yeah fine i watched gravity falls again and read the book of bill

[macdenlover]

it came to my realization that 99% of my fandom related headaches would be cured if everyone understood this

[koobiie]

shoutout to everyone who wants to infodump but cant string together coherent thoughts to form sentences and instead just look at you like this

[mroddmod]

the queen of the disco or whatever

[monsieurenjlolras]

you've heard of "quiet quitting," now I'd like to introduce you to the next level, The French Work Ethic:

Do exactly what you're paid for and nothing more

Absolutely refuse to be available to contact when you're off the clock

Never prioritize work over your own health, wellbeing, or family because that would be insane, it's just a job.

Have a little glass of wine

Take as long as you feel like for lunch

Deeply understand that work doesn't matter

Make sure your boss knows they're always your second priority ❤️

[politijohn]

Source

[3liza]

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/theyre-not-human-how-19th-century-inuit-coped-with-a-real-life-invasion-of-the-walking-dead

Indigenous groups across the Americas had all encountered Europeans differently. But where other coastal groups such as the Haida or the Mi’kmaq had met white men who were well-fed and well-dressed, the Inuit frequently encountered their future colonizers as small parties on the edge of death.

“I’m sure it terrified people,” said Eber, 91, speaking to the National Post by phone from her Toronto home.

And it’s why, as many as six generations after the events of the Franklin Expedition, Eber was meeting Inuit still raised on stories of the two giant ships that came to the Arctic and discharged columns of death onto the ice.

Inuit nomads had come across streams of men that “didn’t seem to be right.” Maddened by scurvy, botulism or desperation, they were raving in a language the Inuit couldn’t understand. In one case, hunters came across two Franklin Expedition survivors who had been sleeping for days in the hollowed-out corpses of seals.

“They were unrecognizable they were so dirty,” Lena Kingmiatook, a resident of Taloyoak, told Eber.

Mark Tootiak, a stepson of Nicholas Qayutinuaq, related a story to Eber of a group of Inuit who had an early encounter with a small and “hairy” group of Franklin Expedition men evacuating south.

“Later … these Inuit heard that people had seen more white people, a lot more white people, dying,” he said. “They were seen carrying human meat.”

Even Eber’s translator, the late Tommy Anguttitauruq, recounted a goose hunting trip in which he had stumbled upon a Franklin Expedition skeleton still carrying a clay pipe.

By 1850, coves and beaches around King William Island were littered with the disturbing remnants of their advance: Scraps of clothing and camps still littered with their dead occupants. Decades later, researchers would confirm the Inuit accounts of cannibalism when they found bleached human bones with their flesh hacked clean.

“I’ve never in all my life seen any kind of spirit — I’ve heard the sounds they make, but I’ve never seen them with my own eyes,” said the old man who had gone out to investigate the Franklin survivors who had straggled into his camp that day on King William Island.

The figures’ skin was cold but it was not “cold as a fish,” concluded the man. Therefore, he reasoned, they were probably alive.

“They were beings but not Inuit,” he said, according to the account by shaman Nicholas Qayutinuaq.

The figures were too weak to be dangerous, so Inuit women tried to comfort the strangers by inviting them into their igloo.

But close contact only increased their alienness: The men were timid, untalkative and — despite their obvious starvation — they refused to eat.

The men spit out pieces of cooked seal offered to them. They rejected offers of soup. They grabbed jealous hold of their belongings when the Inuit offered to trade.

When the Inuit men returned to the camp from their hunt, they constructed an igloo for the strangers, built them a fire and even outfitted the shelter with three whole seals.

Then, after the white men had gone to sleep, the Inuit quickly packed up their belongings and fled by moonlight.

Whether the pale-skinned visitors were qallunaat or “Indians” — the group determined that staying too long around these “strange people” with iron knives could get them all killed.

“That night they got all their belongings together and took off towards the southwest,” Qayutinuaq told Dorothy Eber.

But the true horror of the encounter wouldn’t be revealed until several months later.

The Inuit had left in such a hurry that they had abandoned several belongings. When a small party went back to the camp to retrieve them, they found an igloo filled with corpses.

The seals were untouched. Instead, the men had eaten each other.

[ilona-mushroom]

Not socialist in a “I won’t have to work” type of way but socialist in a “I’ll still be working but I won’t be worried I won’t make the rent” type of way. In a “billions won’t be hoarded by one person” type of way. In a “janitors, fast-food workers, child care workers, preschool teachers, hotel clerks, personal care and home health aides, and grocery store cashiers, will live comfortably” type of way. In a “the sick and elderly will be cared for” type of way. In a “no child should work” type of way.

[ace-and-ranty]

That Rolling Stone article about Chappell Roan... the bits about the shit she went through are already wild, but what really gets me is when the article starts listing. every. single. singer. who reached out to her, worried, to commiserate, to give tips, to agree that the harassment of fame is indeed hell. I'm like. "So y'all agree?? All of y'all agree being famous is horrible???" Good LORD.

Fellow stars have reached out to see if she’s OK. Charli XCX was one of the first to do so (..). Eilish has been keeping tabs on Roan (...). Hayley Williams DM’d her, offering to chat with Roan anytime. Katy Perry told her to never read the comments. Lorde gave her a helpful list of things to do at an airport to fly under the radar. The band Muna hosted her for dinner. Miley Cyrus invited her to a party. Lady Gaga has passed along her phone number (...). Roan went on walks and grabbed coffees with Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker. Their boygenius bandmate Phoebe Bridgers came over to Roan’s just to hang, commiserating on how fandom behavior has become increasingly “abusive and violent.” Sabrina Carpenter, who’s also had a shockingly massive year, suggested they meet up and unpack their summers. “We’re both going through something so fucking hard … she just feels like everything is flying, and she’s just barely hanging on,” Roan says. “It was just good to know someone else feels that way.” Backstage at the Vic Theatre in Chicago, Roan flashes her phone to show a lengthy email from Mitski she received that morning. “I just wanted to humbly welcome you to the shittiest exclusive club in the world, the club where strangers think you belong to them and they find and harass your family members,” it reads.

I?? MEAN???