Gerbe

Funeral Vocabulary in French

un cimetière - a cemetery

un cortège funèbre - funeral procession

la crémation - cremation

un éloge funèbre - a eulogy

un enterrement - a funeral

un entrepreneur de pompes funèbres - a funeral director

les funérailles - a funeral

une gerbe florale - floral/funeral spray (funeral flowers)

une maison funéraire - funeral home

les obsèques - funeral service

l’organisation des funérailles - funeral arrangement

les rites funéraires - funeral rites

un service funèbre - a funeral service

une tombe - tomb/burial place

the Chut'lar

just an idea/story thing i had in mind.

The Chut'lar race approached earth rapidly, but not without caution. They had previously sent a few probes ahead to determine what the atmosphere was like, and were thoroughly surprised that life was thriving on the planet. With all the natural catastrophes and disasters, they seemed to be doing well for themselves. But what baffled them further was what seemed to be the dominant species co-existing with other, less intelligent, species. However, the reason they approached with caution, was the history and durability of the dominant species. They had acquired several books from a building full of them, and had studied them as closely as possible. It seemed as though they referred to themselves as “Menschen”, and had declared war on each other multiple times for seemingly small circumstances. The Chut'lar did not war declared upon them, especially with the “Menschen'” ability to blow incredibly dangerous radioactive materials in space. As they approached, they slowed their velocity down and their instruments beeped. “Communications Channel Detected.” a pilot called out. “Captain, do we want to listen in?” “Yes.” The captain replied, his feathers ruffling in anticipation. The pilot pressed a series of buttons and a male voice broke through, speaking a different language than the one they had learned. The captain frowned, “What is it saying?” “Sorry, sir. It’s speaking a different language. Shall we try to translate with what we have? It is very similar.” “yes, translate.” The captain tapped a clawed paw on his chair. “It seems they are alarmed with our presence.” the pilot tapped a few more keys. “they seem to be contacting the surface, should we continue flying?” “No, stop the ship here. I don’t want to cause any unnecessary conflict with these “Menschen”.” the captain rubbed his muzzle anxiously, he hoped their unannounced arrival wouldn’t cause them to destroy their vessel without a second thought. They waited for an incredible amount of Leeg'lops before the Menschen replied, all the while the ship had to move to keep up with the planet’s orbit. Again, when the Menschen replied, they spoke that same different language. Nonetheless, the Chut'lar replied in the language they had learned. “Opening the communications channel.” The pilot called. A voice came clear and calm through the space-static. “Hello? Is any one there?” The crew’s feathers ruffled at the strange sound of a Menschlich voice. “Hallo? Wer spricht?” The captain hoped he mimicked the Menschen tone well enough. “Joe, what the hell? They’re speaking German!” the voice seemed distanced, “Get a translater in here!” “Hello? Can you speak english?” The voice came in louder. “hallo? Wir mochten, dass sie wissen, dass wir in frieden kommen.” the captain hoped that continuing to speak would reassure the Menschen that they were not there to harm them. “Woah, woah woah, slow down there.” The voice came through again. “Joe! Get me a translation book!” there was a rustling sound on the other line, and the crew shuffled with unease. To the Chut'lars, such intense rustling was a sign of agitation or aggravation. “Come on Joe, we don’t have all day!” The Menschlich certainly sounded aggravated. “Haben wir dich verargert?” The captain asked cautiously. “Finally!” There was more rustling, when finally, the same voice came through speaking broken German. “Hallo, wer…ist da?” “Hallo! Das ist das Rennen Chut'lar!” The captain ruffled his chest feathers in success. “wir kommen in frieden!” “was….hat dich….auf unse..seren….planeten….gerb—gerbacht?” the human voice haltered. “wir waren neugierig auf die lebensvedingungen.” The captain rose from his chair and paced absentmindedly, “Wir waren sehr uberrascht, das leben zu funden, wenn man die bedingungen ihres planetan betrachtet.” “Joe, can you translate that?” The voice sounded faded again. Another voice came through, one barely distinguishable. “Ah ok, and what’s the ETA on the translator?” there was another voice in the background, and the Chut'lar heard a breathy sound come from the Menschen they were communicating with. “ich…..gebe kommunikation…. zu einer….. anderen Person.” The voice came back. The conversations from then on were ones where the Chut'lar easily established that they weren’t there to conquer. At the time at least, the Chut'lar were a warrior race, and often conquered every planet they came across. That or destroyed it from rebellion becoming too much to handle. During the conversation, the Chut'lar and the Menschen exchanged pictures, and the Chut'lar crew chuckled at how weak and gangly the Menschen looked. Yes, despite their weapons, conquering this planet would be easy.

Submitted By: @glutenfreechurro

Gerbe - Bas Jarretière FATAL

Bas jarretière transparent brillant, aspect 15 deniers. Elégance sulfureuse…
Symbole d'une féminité assumée, ce bas jarretière est orné de coutures arrière et de talons à anglaisage pour un esprit glam'chic et rétro. Le détail sensuel : une dentelle florale enivrante et glamour.

updated list! because i’m an idiot who accidentally deleted the other post! yikes!

Trump Supporters:

Ekblad, Eichel, Hanifin, Oshie, Stephen Johns, Gerbe, Domi, Doan, Tony de Angelo, Matthew Tkachuk, Ian Cole, Scottie Upshall, Logan Brown, Thomas Greiss, Seth Jones, Mike Ribeiro, Frank Vatrano, Justin Abdelkader, Tyler Johnson, Shane Prince, Ryan Strome, James Wisniewski, Patrick Eaves, Bobby Robins, Brendan Lemieux, James Neal, Robert Bortuzzo, Eddie Lack, Jordie Benn, Austin Czarnik, Kelli Stack, Mike Fisher, Rebecca Russo

Anti-Trump:

Joffrey Lupul, Biznasty, Bonino, JT Brown, Jakob Chychrun, Andrew Ference, Garret Sparks, Chris VandeVelde, Voracek, Wayne Simmonds, Mark Streit, Ben Scrivens, Johan Franzen, Nugent-Hopkins, Devante Smith-Pelly, Darnell Nurse, Toffoli, Patrick Maroon, Henrik Borgstrom, Jacob Trouba, Jordan Eberle, Trevor van Riemsdyk, James van Riemsdyk, Kris Letang, Marc-Andre Fleury, Andre Burakovsky, Adam Henrique,  Morgan Rielly, Nik Hjalmarsson, Jamie Benn, Jonathan Toews, John Klingberg, Dion Phaneuf, PK Subban, Malcolm Subban, Bo Horvat, Blake Bolden, Meghan Duggan, Brianna Decker,  Nino Niederreiter, Alex Killorn, Louis Domingue, Brianne Jenner

Je hais Florian Philippot. Je le hais viscéralement. Il me donne la gerbe. Je supporte plus sa sale gueule. Ses sales yeux. Son sale sourire narquois. Je pourrais lui faire bouffer ses dents et exploser son crâne contre un mur. Vivement qu'on en finisse parce que bordel, je préfère encore voir Sarko et Le Pen tous les jours pendant 5 ans plutôt que de devoir subir encore la sale gueule de Philippot ne serait-ce que dix minutes par mois.

J'sais pas, j'écris plus, je fume, j'passe mes nuits à regarder le plafond blanc, à réfléchir, dans la journée, j'traîne des pieds, je réfléchis encore, ça commence à me bouffer, j'ai la haine, personne m'demande si ça va, ça va pas connard, j'suis énervée mais fatiguée, j'ai envie de vous tuer tous un par un, mais au final j'ai juste envie que quelqu'un s'arrête et m'dise arrête débile de faire semblant, tes larmes c'est pas la fumée de ta clope, c'est juste ce monstre qui veut ta mort, maintenant gerbe-moi ta peine et dors dans mes bras avant d'causer encore une fois une tornade de détresse et l'ivresse de ton passé amer.

Note pour moi même, ne pas avoir mangé et avoir un pote barman c’est pas une bonne combinaison

Note to myself, to have not eaten and to have a barman friend is not a good combination

LA LETTRE H

il pleut encore alors j'reprends souffle et espere de tout mon corps que cette dernière ne cesse jamais de tomber, j'tourne dans ma rue, j'tourne dans ma tête, j'pense aux garçons puis surtout aux filles, puis surtout à lui, mais aux autres aussi.
et finalement je le reconnais à son gout d'affection synthetique, un mélange de désinvolture et de suffisance au penchant hypocrite.
compter jusqu'à la lettre H et croiser les doigts évitant ainsi de croiser l'amour.

tu sais stella elle est comme absente, transparente, inapte à la concentration une fois sur trois, elle s'calme en imaginant et créant des couleurs celestes dans le seul but de repeindre une présence si irréelle que cette dernière ne pourra exister qu'dans son esprit

j'repenserais à ce parking sous-terrain en intra-muros où je t'ai tant imaginer
t'agripper au carrelage crasseux suintant la gerbe et l'illusion romantique.
suitant ta rage mais surtout suintant tes rêves morbides que tu viendrais gouter sur le creux de mes reins, deja trop usés de tes mains.

j'implorerai les cieux afin qu'ma respiration redevienne un action consciente, que mon corps reprenne le rythme, que mes larmes n'coulent plus sur mes draps mais sur les tiens, qu'tu me refasses gouter aux romances sans paroles.
que sa voix me parcourt tout le corps vertèbres après vertèbres, j'me mettrais à construire des échelles de douleurs dans ma tête, compter de quatre en quatre
sauter les barreaux sauter les étapes sauter d'ce foutu cinquieme étage.

j'repenserais à ce parking sous-terrain en intra-murros, yeux bleus, regard noir à demi-éteint, levres pales, paupières closes, tu t'en souviens ?