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#also the dentist
hajihiko · 22 days
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don't know what to draw, draw hugs
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egophiliac · 5 months
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I got a really tough question.
What’s your favorite Twst event of ALL TIME?
I like Harveston
this truly is the hardest question. :( but after much consideration, I think Endless Halloween Night wins out for me, because it's nonstop Characters Being Silly the whole way through. the whole thing is just lots of these little dorks having the most ridiculous interactions, which is always my favorite! and of course the big twist is SO delightfully stupid and doubles down SO hard that it becomes AMAZING and I 100% unironically adore it. AND it's Halloween! everyone is in their cute little costumes and having a spooky adventure! it's great!
however, I am ALSO a big fan of the Harveston event! how can I not be! everyone is wearing comfy winter outfits and getting along really weirdly well with Epel's grandma and he's getting a little worried about that! my terrible loud son sews a plush squirrel and then gives it a silly little nickname and refuses to leave it behind when it breaks! the ending shot with the sled! I LOVE IT.
obviously we need the best of both worlds now
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itszygoart · 3 months
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i know nothing about trolls why are these losers icons on my for you page
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centrally-unplanned · 1 month
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why call doctors "professional rent extractors"? just curious
I was being flippant about a known hobby horse of mine - its a true statement in a certain sense, but doctors ofc are working professionals who generate a lot of value so they aren't just that. But in the US doctors as an organization have lobbied extensively and successfully to restrict the number of doctors medical schools can graduate, restrict the number of existing medical schools to begin with, ban foreign doctors from practicing in the United States without expensive and unnecessary recertification, and other policies. Meanwhile they have also lobbied to ensure that any practice of medicine that does not involve a doctor in some way shape or form "approving" is illegal, even if the doctor is barely involved in the actual interactions with the patient.
All of this has resulted in physicians in the US having on average twice the salaries of doctors in other countries, while granting the US one of the lowest doctors-per-person ratios in the developed world. And while they did present figleaf logic for these restrictions, they were pretty much nonsense and I don't think the organizations in question ever believed them. Of course most individual doctors played no part in any of this, but doctors as an institution fought hard to ensure people are forced to pay them more money.
There are other ways they are rent extractors as well - for example, the way that doctors have to approve of every single pharmaceutical prescription means that you constantly have to see them and keep paying them in order for them to tell you to change nothing. They have a monopoly over prescriptions in order to ensure that they can extract rent from each pharmaceutical transaction. These I readily admit are more contentious though - I think its beyond dispute that the current system is too controlling, but certainly the idea that people could just buy whatever drugs they want whenever is a very hot take. There is a lot of rent extraction here too, but its much harder to definitively pinpoint compared to the extremely obvious rigging in the previous paragraph.
Overall the point is that a healthier US healthcare system would likely slash doctor salaries by at least 25%; they are strongly overpaid, and that level of overpay is a form of rent extraction.
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montereybayaquarium · 2 years
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While shark teeth tend to get a lot of attention, it’s the teeth on their skin that you should brush up on! Shark skin is covered in tiny, flat pointed scales that are called dermal denticles—which literally means skin teeth. If you look at a shark’s skin under a microscope, you’ll see that the scales are a series of overlapping teeth that result in a rough texture.
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These pointed scales reduce drag on sharks as they swim, making them stealthy and fast as they cut through the water. This jagged texture also keeps fouling animals (like barnacles) from being able to settle on their bodies and slow them down, which is helpful when you’re a speedy top predator. 
TLDR: sharks are covered in tiny teeth and this makes them better swimmers. How’s that for a tantalizingly toothsome fact?
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ginsays · 1 year
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that thing with the arrows in tgcf 235 that i still can’t believe feng xin can just DO
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thebibliosphere · 3 months
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We're two days into the new year, and I need expensive dental work done.
wELP.
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medicalunprofessional · 8 months
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play dentist
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nipuni · 6 months
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Some photos from yesterday 🍂 we got some house plants and found mushrooms in the park!
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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months
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Hi!! I’m your friendly neighborhood Swiftie BEGGING you for Eddie - Sparks Fly
sparks fly (eddie's version)
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff. mutual pining. the works. <3
wc: 2.1k+
a/n: this one got mad cheesy. maybe a little too cheesy. idc. i had fun with it.
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“You know, one of these days, you’re gonna have to talk to Ed,” the older bartender, Phil, muses as he wipes down the counter behind you. 
You hardly hear him over the current symphony of electric guitars, riveting bass, and crashing drums filling the Hideout. You had one focus tonight, just as you did every Tuesday and Friday night, and that was the band on the stage currently commanding an even larger audience than last week. 
You’d seen it coming. Building crowds, more buzzing conversations around town in hushed tones about the band that owned the stage of the hole in the wall. You’d stumbled upon them by accident, coming in and telling yourself you were just grabbing one drink after a particularly rough shift. But one drink immediately turned into four that night when the band had taken the stage, playing song after song, keeping you glued to that bar stool and completely enamored with one particular boy on stage.
Eddie Munson. 
Every time you watch him command that stage, wild hair and vibrant eyes, it’s like the first time all over again. You can’t get over his wicked grin, the way he puts his entire self into each performance, the rasp of his voice – you’re down bad for a man you’ve never even properly spoken to.
By some miracle, you tear your eyes from the stage, swiveling to face Phil, “Excuse me?” 
“Ed. You know, Eddie,” he repeats himself, leaning both palms on the bar, “He notices you, you know? Always asks me where you ran off to after their set’s done.” 
Your heart is suddenly in your throat, embarrassment red hot in the pit of your stomach, “H-He notices me? Why would he notice me?” 
“You’re at every show. Even before they started getting a proper crowd. The damn boy hasn’t shut up about you since that first night,” Phil pauses to hand off a beer to another patron wordlessly, “You’re lucky you pay with cash and not card, or I’m sure he would’ve tracked you down outside of here by now. Calls you his Cinderella.” 
Like a clock chiming midnight, the final tinny note of the set rings through the bar, and you can hear that rasp of Eddie’s voice booming through the speakers.
“We have been Corroded Coffin! Thank you very fucking much!” 
And just like clockwork, you’re rushing to dig into your purse, yanking a twenty from your wallet and smacking it onto the bar before grabbing your drink to down the last of it. 
“I’m not Cinderella,” you choke out over the residual burn of the alcohol, face still scrunched up as you glance over your shoulder to see the boys have already left the stage, “I just like the music.” 
“The music,” he hums, “Right. Well, your money’s no good here tonight, little miss Cindy,” he reaches out, and with a singular fingertip, pushes the cash back towards you over the sticky wood. When your mouth opens and closes in confusion, Phil’s eyes flicker up towards the side door beside the stage where a commotion has begun, signaling that the band is coming out, “It seems the music likes you, too. So much so that he demanded I add your drinks to his tab tonight.” 
The coals of embarrassment burn even brighter, igniting you from the inside out. Your hand flies out, grabbing back the twenty and shoving it aimlessly in your purse. You keep looking back at the crowd, catching glimpses of dark curls over the small sea of people singing their praises, watching your seconds run out in real time. It’s not that you didn’t want to speak to the man who has had you captivated for several months now; you were just mortified that he’d noticed you in that crowd, noticed the way you attended each show. 
One of these days you’d talk to him. But tonight, you had no bravery left for such boldness. 
“You’re gonna have to leave behind a glass slipper for the boy eventually,” Phil only chuckles, watching you fumble to clasp your purse before you shoot up from the stool, “Hey, hold on-”
“Another night, Phil!” you call out, not even looking back as you make a beeline for the bar’s exit. 
If you had, you would have seen your favorite ring that Phil was holding up, the one that you had taken off your finger to fiddle with endlessly before sitting it down at some point without thought, now left behind like some kind of glass slipper. 
You were late. It was Friday night, the day had been a nightmare, and you were fucking late to Corroded Coffin’s show. 
Your attendance had never faltered like this before. You were always right on time, sometimes five minutes early once the crowds doubled in size in order to secure one of your regular seats. 
The deviation from your routine has you reeling, amongst other things. Your Friday had simply been shit.  A nonstop rampant attack on your sanity, one thing after another testing what was left of your patience. You’d slept through your first two alarms this morning, you hadn’t realized you were out of coffee creamer until you’d grabbed the scarily light container of it this morning, you had to take a dreadfully cold shower rather than waste precious minutes letting the water warm, you’d worked through your lunch to clean up a mess made by your coworker – the list goes on and on. 
You burst through the entrance of the Hideout, probably looking a bit crazed, stopping dead in your tracks when you realize two things.
One, It’s fairly empty. And two, Corroded Coffin is not on the stage. 
“Look who decided to show!” Phil calls from his place behind the bar, waving dramatically to you, “Cinderella!”
“Phil, for the last time, I’m not-”
“Your favorite band canceled tonight, I’m afraid,” he bulldozes right over your retort as you approach one of your usual stools.
Your brows furrow, “Canceled? Is everything okay?” 
Phil’s mouth opens. But it’s not his voice that answers you. 
“Gareth’s sick.”
A voice you’d only heard on the stage, through crackling speakers and enthusiastic addresses to a crowd. A voice you had never heard one-on-one, and for good reason. 
Your breath escapes you as you turn slowly, facing the man you’d managed to elude for months now. 
“Pardon?” you squeak out, voice hardly audible. 
Eddie still grins shyly, hearing you loud and clear due to how uncharacteristically quiet the bar is tonight, “Our drummer, Gareth – he’s, uh, sick. Sorry to disappoint.” 
He’s just as captivating up close as he is on the stage. There’s still something wild in him, something electrifying that he seems completely unaware of. 
“Don’t apologize,” you’re still whispering, internally cursing yourself for it. You probably look ridiculous right now; you can only picture your starry eyes and parted lips, looking at him with palpable shock, hardly able to utter a word, “I- I’m not disappointed. There’ll be other shows!” you stammer your way through your words, and when Eddie only continues to look at you with gentle amusement, the softest ripple of possible nerves from the way his hands shoved into his pockets, you continue to over explain yourself, rambling on, “I just- I, uh, hope he feels better.”
“Yeah, me too,” he nods in agreement before he buries his hands even deeper. Suddenly, as if he’s found something in those pockets, his face lights up in delight, “Oh! Hey, I-” his left hand pulls out of his pocket at lightning speed, still curled into a fist as he thrusts it into your direction, “I think this might be yours.” 
Slowly, he unfurls his fingers, and in the center of his palm rests your ring. You had assumed it was lost to the fire, that it might have fallen off at work or outside your apartment, never to be found again. Just another thing to add to your checklist of things gone wrong. 
And yet there it was, like a perfect glass slipper, right in the palm of Eddie’s hand. 
Your nerves are all but forgotten as you get giddy, reaching out without thinking to take the ring from him. A gentle brush of your fingertips against this palm, and you swear you feel sparks flying from the minimal contact, “Oh! Oh my gosh! Thank you, I-” you slip it on easily, smiling widely before you look up at him gleefully, “I thought I’d lost it for good. Thank you.” 
Eddie turns bashful, tilting down his chin and letting stray curls fall in his face that half hide his own contained grin. If the lighting in the bar had been better, you would have caught the pink spreading across his cheeks. 
“And so the prince finally meets his Cinderella,” Phil mutters from behind the two of you before he suddenly smacks his palms on the countertop, “Alright! Well, if you two will excuse me, I have to…. Do some stock count in the back,” a blatant lie, “Don’t burn the place down, yeah?” 
Eddie snaps out of his daze to look up to the older man, mock saluting him in a way that has an involuntary giggle leaving your lips. In an instant, he’s looking back down to you, almost surprised at the sound. 
Cheap bar lighting can no longer hide his blush. Or your own adoration.
“The bar is yours! Make good decisions!” Phil continues to shout as he moves to the backroom, voice fading with each step.
Finally, you and Eddie are alone. 
“And then there were two,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you, finding something brave in him at the way you’re looking up at him in reverie. 
The rockstar that had been enchanting you for months from a distance. The man who had been occupying all your thoughts far too much for having been a stranger. 
This is your chance. No more hiding at the back of the bar, only admiring him with the safety of a crowd between you two. No more wondering, no more imagining, no more pining. Time stands still, not a single clock daring to strike midnight as the electric currents between you two come to a rise. 
“Say,” you say right when he looks to be preparing himself to speak first. It’s time to be bold, take a risk, no matter the costs. “Do you… Do you want to grab a drink?” 
His wicked grin is even better right in front of you, directed at you, “Well, he did say the bar is ours. What’s your poison?” 
“Jack and coke?”
He shrugs, still a vibrant fool, like a schoolgirl with a crush, “I’ve been known to have a heavy hand with the jack, but… I think I can manage that.” 
Electrifying, pulsing, the beginning of something new. You can see it now – the way you’re going to cling to his arm when he makes you laugh so hard you nearly fall off your chair, the way he’ll be able to charm you better over a jack and coke than he ever had been able to from behind a guitar, the way those eyes scream trouble. And yet at the end of the night, you know he’ll still walk you to your car through the empty parking lot. He’ll probably use the excuse of the bad weather looming overhead. When the sky finally breaks open and the first drops of rain fall, neither of you will be brave enough to admit what you both already know. Tonight’s not the night for kisses in the rain or talk of what-ifs. 
That’s fine. For tonight, the sparks of something new are enough. 
Eddie moves to walk behind the bar, but you throw out a reckless hand to catch him. Your first curls around his forearm for the first time tonight, and even with the layer of leather that separates skin, you can feel it. “Hey, did you really call me your Cinderella?” 
Flashes and arrays of what’s to come flood both of you. It’s only the first drink. It’s only the first night.
It won’t be the last. 
“I mean,” he nods subtly down to the hand holding him, where your ring glitters on your middle finger, snug on your knuckle, “If the ring fits, right?” 
He’s right. The ring fits. 
And a different ring fits years later, after all those kisses in the rain and many more jack and cokes that Eddie never quite perfects. And you’re still right where you belong, front row at every Corroded Coffin show, Eddie’s own personal Cinderella. When the clock strikes midnight, he’s no longer afraid – he knows you’ll be coming home to him now. 
Phil only laughs when he receives the invite, chuckling to himself at the chosen theme for the two idiots that once haunted his bar who now had moved onto bigger and better things.
A gothic fairytale wedding, on a Tuesday night. How fitting.
"you touch me once and it's really something. you find i'm even better than you imagined i would be."
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karizipan · 5 months
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just a costume... right? 👻🦇🌙
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visiosatanae · 1 month
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As someone who has worked in the medical field for a while and who has constant Ghost brain rot, I've been thinking quite a bit about what the Ministry's healthcare system might be like.
I'd like to think that there are some practitioners who work internally within the Ministry, like nurses in the infirmary or maybe even a dentist. For bigger things, like when Sister Imperator was in the hospital, the Ministry has some of the best medical coverage your soul can buy, as well as a large network of some of the best doctors in the world. Any out of pocket expenses are "paid" for with daily chores and volunteer hours if needed. But bottom line, there's little point in having devoted followers that are ill or in pain.
On the flip side, when a member of the congregation has passed, the Ministry has a private funeral practice that goes above and beyond for any arrangements. Most members opt to be buried or cremated in the Ministry cemetery or mausoleum. Some do want their final resting place to be back home amongst family, and when that happens the funeral practice takes the utmost care in still performing the proper funeral rites. They also ensure the member's headstone or urn is engraved with a pentagram and/or grucifix as some local funeral homes will not.
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unpretty · 6 months
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after all the bullshit with my right molars last year my left molars have decided to get in on the action and the new dentist andrew found can't see me until the 17th. but this cavity has definitely reached the nerve. so i'm looking up advice for how to make the pain stop and a bunch of them are saying "try a saltwater rinse". and i'm like. that doesn't sound right to me but enough people are saying it that i might as well try.
this was a mistake
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starspaces · 20 days
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bigcapitalist · 8 days
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Rat labs today. Teaching them to press levers for food (NICELY AND IN COMPLIANCE W ANIMAL ETHICS)
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fowlblue · 10 days
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I think Artemis should have had braces for at least part of the series.
It would be so funny. And narratively further impress that he is a child. But also it would just be funny.
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