And With That We’re Done With The Imperial Knights.

Sergey Ermokhin, Polar Night

I feel like eating meals under the rune here would be a weird experience, especially for some people more than others. Like sometimes people would remember eating dinners the kitchen swears it never prepared. Others won’t eat at any other table because their blood ox stew only comes out rare enough if they eat at this one. No one will play poker with Frank anymore because when he sits in his lucky chair he wins every round, and Captain Eva only eats in the hallway now because she’s tired of being told to pass the salt by voices no one else can hear.

Honestly in all of these stories these poetic white men who somehow end up immortal get so bored and miserable because they just sit in their mansion all day doing whatever it is they need to do in order to sustain their immortality and then they just throw lavish parties and organize orgies or whatever and then they’re like “why am I sad I eat three course meals and have at least one orgy daily what MORE could I POSSIBLY need??”

Like???? Damn go for a walk. Do you even KNOW your neighbors? Get a dog and take it to the park. Set up an elaborate fish tank. Go skiing like you’ve been alive for 200 years and you’ve spent 180 of it in your house looking at paintings and drinking wine with other rich assholes no wonder ur life sucks my man.

Buy a canoe.

sometimes I reblog stuff from people I’m not following and I feel like I walked into a store and just stole stuff and walked out.

babyface

anxiety: they hate you

me: who hates me

anxiety: they

Dress

Thierry Mugler, 1987-1989

The Museum at FIT