la morte vivante

word on the street is if you suffer in just the right way for just long enough youll be rewarded

because Ormund Hightower getting in his teenage nephew’s face and coke ranting about the glory of the Hightower Reconquista that he has made up in his head that they are divinely ordained to accomplish to because of their special blood and no one understands but them IS exactly how Daemon was moving with fifteen year-old Rhaenyra in the first season of this show. kind of insane

resisting the urge to roll my eyes every post i see about how fandom doesn’t talk enough about some male background character or this m/m ship is so underrated compared to the fandom fave ship (also m/m) or this man really deserved more development or the show should’ve been about this man instead of that other man or

Today's shitpost is cancelled. Everyone gets an extra ten minutes to play outside instead

do you ever feel yourself fail a charisma check in real time

ancient roman women whose husband keeps looking at the neighbour's boy quintus and he never looks at her that way and she can't even chainsmoke in the kitchen because they don't have marlboro blues in ancient times. and she can't even go to the club because they haven't discovered drum and bass music yet. her friend clodia's having visions of a woman named doechii but neither of them knows what that means

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.