Tumgik
Text
to you, it's a shitty sentence. to some random bitch 500 miles away, it's a fire line that'll haunt them for the next 17 years.
you don't know how impactful your writing is because it's been in your brain for far too long now. you've stared at it for hours and repeated "this sucks" over and over again to the point that you killed your capacity to feel anything about your work.
but trust me, once you get your shit out there, someone's gonna go over that paragraph you hate and go "jesus fucking christ" and put the book down to have an existential crisis.
37K notes · View notes
Text
dracua memes are my life currently
POV you're Jonathan Harker
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
Text
why do we fall so deeply for people who do not feel the same? it is so very cruel. why must i walk down the street in tears over someone who doesnt feel the same about me. it isn't fair. but i suppose that's life, isn't it? life isn't fair.
3 notes · View notes
Text
I love gratuitous acts of love and stupidity and obsession. Like, Mary Shelley losing her virginity to her man on her mother's grave in a churchyard and then keeping his preserved heart after her died? Metal. Heathcliff digging up Catherine's grave and forcing her to haunt him since he refuses to live without her? Iconic. Romeo and Juliet’s double suicide after three days of burning teenage passion? Felt.
2K notes · View notes
Text
fuck romeo and juliet i want whatever the count and countess andrenyi from murder on the orient express have
25 notes · View notes
Text
the wink fucking sends me. i'm a sucker for a gentleman.
Tumblr media
60 notes · View notes
Text
rest in peace, leslie jordan.
Tumblr media
4 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
EVAN PETERS in American Horror Story: Hotel (2015)
922 notes · View notes
Text
spunky dilf
vince noir x reader
Tumblr media
imagine: finding out you were pregnant with vince's child.
(don't ask why i put that gif - its just hilarious.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twelve days. It was twelve days late. It had never been this late before.
"Oi! Y/n, you up?" The yell of your shamanic landlord and good friend, Naboo, shook you from your thoughts.
"Um, yes!" You hollered back.
"Do ya want some malt loaf? Bollo's just put the tea on."
"Oh, yeah, thanks, Naboo. I'll be out in a minute."
"No worries... Bollo you ballbag! What are ya doin'?"
"Ughhhh," *crash* "I think I may have eat the cakes."
"You idiot! Those were my hash cakes! I made em' for Pete you tit!"
"Sorry."
You laughed to yourself as you got out of bed, wrapping a warm, woolen shawl of Vince's around your shoulders. The antics of your housemates never failed to put a smile on your face - even when you faced such a situation as you believed yourself to be in at the moment.
You emerged from your chrysalis of a bedroom and joined your mates in the kitchenette, taking a seat on the couch.
"Mornin'!" Naboo greeted, sitting opposite you on a beaded pouffe (this was followed by a grunt from Bollo, letting you know your presence was noted).
"Morning."
"What's up with you?" He took a puff of his pipe.
"Nothing's up." You folded your arms tighter over your chest.
"I'm a shaman. I can sense when something's off. And something is definitely off about you this morning."
"Isn't that empathy? You don't need to be shaman to have empathy." Bollo waddled over with the tea and malt loaf on a tray.
"Yeah, whatever. 'Point is," he took another drag, blowing smoke from his nostrils. You were usually alright with the smell of... whatever the hell he smokes... but today it made you positively gag! "Something's different about you, Y/n. I can sense it."
"I have no idea what you're on about, Naboo." You took a bite of malt loaf - it was a little stale, but you were rather hungry, so you ate it regardless. "Where's Vince and Howard."
"Didn't Howard tell you?"
"No...?"
"The dickhead," Naboo scoffed. "Long story. So you know how Vince went to some party last night? Well, he got home about half-three and was pretty pissed-"
You rolled your eyes; Vince enjoyed a cocktail or three, but barely ever got himself truly wasted. However, it was his mate Leroy's bucks party, and so naturally, you weren't surprised he took the opportunity to go to town on the booze.
"He wanted to straighten his hair and basically, he fell asleep on his straighteners and got a nasty burn-"
"Why did no one tell me about this?!"
"I dunno. Anyway, Howard took 'im to the doctors to get it checked. You were still asleep and Vince insisted on leaving you be."
"Right..." You spent a moment comprehending the story. "Shit, it wasn't the Nicky Clarke's was it?"
"Yes. Think so." Bollo grunted.
"Fucking idiot! Jesus christ Vince!"
"Don't take offense, Y/n, but you're being really moody this morning."
"Am I?" You retorted. "Oh, I'm sorry. I only just found out my tit of a boyfriend got himself pissed and ended up with second-degree burns!” You excused yourself from the couch and went back to your room, slamming the door behind you.
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
Bloody hell! This was the last thing you needed! Vince going out and getting shitfaced, unbeknown to the fact that he may be a father sooner than he wished! Fuck!
You paced your room, trying to think of what your next move would be. You were too young for this - you told yourself. But you needed to know...
And so you did a test.
*POSITIVE*
You were pregnant.
***
You were midway through the afternoon shift in the shop when Howard arrived back with Vince slung over his shoulders, looking terribly hungover, still wearing his red catsuit and silver boots.
“Ughh, I need a Berocca!” 
Howard gestured for Vince to head upstairs, before walking over to you. “You go look after him. I’ll take care of the shop.”
“Thanks Howard.” You gave him a pat on the shoulder before rushing over to aid Vince up the stairs. Once at the top, you guided Vince into your room and laid him down on the bed. 
“What have you gone and done to yourself, you bloody idiot?” 
“Well I had a few too many flirtini’s at Leroys and…”
“That was a rhetorical question.”
“Oh.”
 “I know what you did. You fell asleep on your Nicky Clarkes.”
“…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Vince raked a hand through his hair. “I was pretty pissed.”
This whole kerfuffle nearly made you forget about your own situation.
“It’s alright, just so long as you’re alright now.”
“It’s better, now that I’m with you.” He reached to your face and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, before gently pulling your face down to meet his lips in a tender kiss.
You smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.
“You rest up. I’ll fetch you a Berocca and run you a bath.”
“Cheers, darlin’. You’re a diamond.”
You got his Berocca and then set out to preparing his bath with nice warm water, bubbles, and put out his favourite shower gels and shampoos and conditioners (he had alot of those). 
“You ready, Vince?”
“Yeah.” 
You helped him up and walked with him to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind the two of you. 
“Right, let’s have a little look at this wound.” You told Vince to sit, and you crouched beside him. Having since changed out of his catsuit, he pulled up his shirt, and you lowered the already-very-low waistband of his black trousers. The burn was protected by a dressing.
“Can you take it off please. The dressing.” He asked. His voice... was vulnerable.
“You sure?”
He nodded. 
“Can you hold this?” You got him to hold his waistband down while you gently plucked at the corners, trying to ease the bandage from his skin with as little pain as possible. “Almost there.”
He bit his lip as you yanked the stubborn edge from his skin. Vince let out a sigh of relief.
“Thanks for that.”
“Is it sore? Are you sure you’ll be alright to have it in water?” You observed the bright red scar that lacerated his groin.
“A little sore, yeah. But I really need a bath, so I don’t really care. My hair is absolutely mank!”
"So you're saying you'd prefer an infected wound, to greasy hair?"
"It'll be fine!"
“Alright, I’ll leave you be then.” You turned to leave the room, but Vince caught your wrist. 
“No. Stay." His eyes were soft. "Won’t you join me?”
You smiled .“I guess it wouldn’t do any harm.”
He beamed that childish grin of his. 
Soon the two of you were immersed in the hot water and bubbles, Vince retelling stories of the previous night.
"And then, Jaque LeCube, right, he got this massive hose pipe right and chugged a pint of lager in one. I don't even know where his mouth is."
You listened intently, relishing these intimate moments, as your head rest on his chest, surrounded by warm, lavender-scented foam.
Gradually, the chatter petered out, and you simply lay in his embrace, your fingertips grazing his thigh below the water surface.
"Vince?" You broke the silence.
"Hmm?"
"I have something to tell you."
"What is it?"
You sat up and met his gaze.
"I'm..."
"Y/n, what is it?" His expression grew solemn as you struggled to string your sentence together.
You held your breath.
"I'm pregnant."
He didn't respond, simply looked at you blankly, as though trying to comprehend the words you'd uttered.
"Vince, say something." You grew concerned.
"Fuck..."
Your heart sank.
But a cheeky grin broke across his face.
"I've always wanted to be spunky dilf!
"Vince!" You giggled. Not at all the reaction you were expecting.
"You know, like a super cool dad who looks like a rockstar - you know when we pick up the kid from school and all their friends go 'wow, look at their dad! He's so cool!'" He turned to you and took your hand. "So, we're really having a baby then?"
"Yes. Yes we are."
He smiled softly. "You're going to be the best mother to our child."
"And you the best, coolest, most Jagger-esque father!"
"You know it, darlin'." He placed a hand on your stomach. "I love you."
33 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
88K notes · View notes
Text
this is fucking hilarious
Tumblr media
100K notes · View notes
Text
tour life
noel fielding x reader
Tumblr media
short little noel imagine where you're on tour with the mighty boosh troupe
wordcount: 700
Tour life… not your most favourite way of living. Of course there were advantages, to be sure; relishing in that free-willed rockstar life that so many aspired to have, touring Britain with a man you knew so many women fancied, and having the satisfaction of knowing that his heart was yours - the glares of sheer jealousy sent your way as you entered the public on Noel Fielding’s arm kept you smug. Meeting new people and travelling was great too.
But the aspect of being cramped up in a tour bus with five guys for hours on end was at times, frustrating, to say the least. Especially when one of those guys happened to be Rich Fulcher - you loved the idiot, and his peculiar take on British comedy; an American trying to fit in with a bunch of geezers - but he wasn’t very good at being quiet. And he seemed to get off on pissing off Noel, which then had repercussions on you - being the one whom he came whining to when Rich “accidentally” wrote ‘I love your mom’s nuts’ all over his sketchbook, or put cheese and onion crisps in his boots. 
You recalled just last Tuesday, in Brixton, packing up after the show when the latter situation occurred. 
“Christ almighty! Someone’s gone and pored a packet of crisps in my boots. Fucking hell!… I bet this was Fulcher. I’m gonna fucking kill ‘im.” 
They were all like siblings, honestly (well, besides the fact that Noel and Mike were siblings…), and there was never a dull moment with the Mighty Boosh troupe.
It just got a litttttllllleee much being with them all 24/7 cramped together in a small bus.
Fortunately, the boys had scored a lovely place off the coast of Brighton, where you were to spend the mid-week slump - it was Monday when you arrived, and the Brighton show wasn’t until Friday, so there were a few days respite from the cramped, testosterone-inhabited tourbus. 
"Annnnd, here we go." Julian pulled up to the house and wrenched on the handbrake. "Quite magnificent if I say so."
"Its bloody huge, mate!" Dave, who was seated in the front adjacent to Julian, removed his sunglasses to get a better look.
"Yeah, it's pretty neat," piped up Rich. "Looks like the estate my grandma used to live in before she got abducted by an army of gorillas."
You were currently curled up beside Noel, sharing a seat. Your head was on his shoulder, his arm around your waist as he spoke. "Dave's right, it's massive. You sure we can afford this Ju?"
"I mean it looked smaller in the pictures, but yeah, she's within our budget."
"Nice!"
Slowly, the six of you began to unload the bus, tired, bodies still recovering from the weekend. Yes. A few days of quiet in a big, roomy house would do you good.
You and Noel landed a beautiful little room on the second floor, with an ensuite, and a window onlooking the sea. Julian took the bedroom beside yours.
"Y/n, Ju doesn't have a loo in his room so I've said he can use ours instead of having to go downstairs," Noel told you. "So what I'm getting at is don't go wandering 'round with your tits out."
"Oh okay, no tits for anyone, I get it." You wrapped your jumper tight around your chest.
"That's not what I said." He ran a hand through his hair
"Too late now Mr Fielding. No tits for you."
Noel skulked up to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. He placed a heated kiss upon your lips, his nose lingering against yours, his breath hot on your face.
"How about now?"
"Hmm, well, I may have to make an exception for you." You twirled a lock of his raven hair around your finger. His lips curled into a smirk as he kissed you once more, a stray hand snaking up your torso.
*knock knock*
You instantly pulled apart, as Julian let himself in.
"We're having coffee downstairs if you two lovebirds wanna join us?"
"Yeah, we'll be down in a minute, Ju." Noel answered. "Oh, and can you ask Mike to put condensed milk in mine, please? Cheers."
He gave you a quick peck on the cheek, whispering in your ear - "to be continued..." - before taking your hand and leading you downstairs.
30 notes · View notes
Text
name me a child whose sexual awakening wasn't this franchise
just finished watching curse of the black pearl for the first time in a while and. why is everyone so hot. jack. elizabeth. will. zoe saldana. that guy who says 'hEs dIsAbLeD tHe rUdDeR cHaIn siR'. that other guy who says 'tHat'S gOt tO bE tHe bEsT pIrAte i'Ve eVeR sEeN'. even norrington what is happening to me -
242 notes · View notes
Text
what is real happiness?
real happiness was sitting in the drive-in cinema five years ago, watching as elizabeth ran over the hill to meet will after decades apart.
never has a moment in film brought me so much happiness.
4 notes · View notes
Text
south london forever
noel fielding x reader
notes:
you and noel spend an evening on the roof together (kinda)
inspired by the song by florence and the machine
The world moved so fast. A cliché, but so very true. It felt like only yesterday that you were sixteen, sitting atop the roof of your family home in the night's late hours, thoughts racing much too rapidly for sleep to even have crossed your mind. It was calming and provided a type of clarity that comes with the awareness of being the only one awake in the household, watching the slowness of a slumbering suburb. A few straggling cars making their way home; the irregularities in the flicker of the lamp post; an occasional cat bounding through the bushes.
"Can't sleep?"
The voice shook you back to reality; here, to your shared flat, in Shoreditch. So caught up in your nostalgia, you failed to notice your housemate (and good friend) standing before you. You were slouched back on the couch, a worn-out vintage thing, empty cup of tea resting on your lap, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.
You shook your head, placing your cup on the coffee table and stretching your legs.
"Me neither."
"You've got a gig tomorrow, haven't you? Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep?"
"Nah. We canceled. Well... resheduled." He sat down beside you.
"Canceled, my arse." You stifled a chuckle; you knew full well Noel relished his time onstage with his best mate, especially when it was followed by a wild night on the town. Hell, he caroused with Amy Winehouse.
"No, really, we did. There's no gig tomorrow. We've got the next few weeks off in fact."
"What, did the BBC finally come to their senses?" When Noel didn't laugh, nay, respond, you grew concerned. "Oh shit... you're not actually canceled are you?"
"Oh no, no! Not that. Ju's just gotta go sort some family stuff out. And they're all in Leeds, so..." He trailed off. "Someone's not well, I think."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Poor thing. I hope he's okay."
"He'll be right." Noel's upper body shifted to face you. "How about you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you okay, Y/n?"
You shrugged.
He sighed.
Silence. For a few moments.
Before he spoke once more.
"I've an idea." Noel stood up hastily, holding his hand out for you to take. "Well, come on then!"
You smiled softly as you took his grasp in yours, and suddenly, you were so very aware of him. The minimal contact between the two of you sent sparks up your spine - like that of your first teenage crush when he smiled at you in the schoolyard. Did Noel feel that way too? No! Of course, he didn't, you twat! You told yourself... even if you slighty... slighty... fancied him... you were just mates. Besides, you were pretty sure you saw him snog Courtney Love at that party last week. Didn't you?
"Where are we going?" You questioned, trying to distract yourself from your internal dialogue.
"Surprise." By this point, Noel had grabbed both your coats off the coat rack, and chucked you yours, along with a pair of boots. You donned them both, as did he, and then he took your hand once more and dragged you into the garage and into the car.
"Can I put the radio on?"
"Go for it. But make sure it's something good! I can't stand that poxy, popular shit." He reversed the vehicle, pulling out onto the road. "And no Coldplay! God, I fucking hate Coldplay!!"
You chuckled to yourself, as you fiddled with the buttons, switching channels until you struck aria gold; bingo! The Passenger by Iggy Pop. A perfect song for a midnight drive through the streets of Shoreditch.
"Fuck yeah!" Noel began to sing along to the lyrics, a happy camper. "We'll ride through the city tonight-"
"See the city's ripped backsides-" You joined in.
"We'll see the bright and hollow sky-"
"We'll see the stars shine so bright."
"The stars made for us tonight..." Noel's voice faded out, and he took his eyes off the road for a split second, grinning at you. You couldn't help but smile back, until he averted his gaze once more to the dark road ahead. There was little traffic out at this time... a few people on their way home from parties, work shifts, or concerts maybe?
"What are you gonna do without Julian here?" You asked, turning the volume of the radio down.
"Hmm. Work probably. Try write some jokes." His hand raked through his hair scrunching it between his fingers as he always did. "I dunno. Me and Ju are a power team; not sure if I'll be able to come up with much without him."
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself, Noel. But believe in yourself. You'll be able to."
"Thanks, Y/n."
Noel indicated left, and pulled into an empty car park, in front of the little sleeping art museum. It was strange to see it at this time; usually bustling with people, the building looked quaint... humble... as though the paintings and sculpture were all tucked away in their little beds.
"Besides, I think I hear a calling coming from the general direction of Camden."
You laughed, as you exited the car, shutting the door softly behind you.
"What? You'd be welcome to join me... but I'm guessing the atmosphere of good old Camden town isn't really your thing-"
"I'd love to." You cut him off.
"It's a date. Now, come with me." Noel grabbed you by the hand and ran towards the back of the building. There was little illumination, but Noel located a ladder within seconds, propping it up against the wall.
"Noel!"
"What?"
"We- We can't climb up there! We'll get caught! We-"
"Simmer down! We're not gonna get caught. The view from up here is well worth it." He began to scale the rungs, climbing higher and higher. "Now hurry up! Get your little arse up here! What have you got to lose?"
You rolled your eyes and gave in. "You know, I wish you weren't so profane!"
To which comment, he simply responded with a playful 'up yours' gesture.
"Proves my point!"
And then you climbed the rickety, wooden ladder.
Soon, the two of you were sitting on the roof of the museum, feasting your eyes upon the world around you. The lights twinkled, like thousands of artificial stars that had fallen to the earth, mimicking the sky above. The wind was cold on your neck, so you adjusted your collar and did up the buttons on your coat; Noel wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and once more, you withered under his touch.
"Look at those two, having a snog against that window," he pointed his free hand over to the left, and you spotted the loved-up couple. "Oh... wait actually..." Noel leaned over, his breath warm against your cheek, and whispered in your ear. "I think they may be shagging."
You burst out laughing, catching a glimpse of your companion's smirk. "They'd better be careful not to break that glass during their little session of lovemaking."
"Wouldn't that be a fun anecdote though, hey? 'Smashing couple smash gallery window!'"
As your laughter petered out, you sighed, meeting Noel's eyes. Even here, in near-complete darkness, you could make out their icy cerulean tinge. He had the most beautiful countenance too.
"...Noel?" You questioned.
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever just... feel not good enough. Like... when you're a child, you don't worry about the future, you have so much confidence, you think there's nothing you can't do... you're fearless. But then you grow up... and you realise... you'll never live up to expectations. You'll never be talented enough, or you'll never be successful, or... you'll never meet someone who loves you for you-"
"Is that how you feel? Like you're not good enough?" His voice was solemn, serious, having lost its usual comic, flirtatious quality.
You turned away from him, nodding slightly, your eyes glazing over, as your focus revolved inward. It's true. You bit your lip, in an attempt to hold back the sudden urge to weep. Every day, you play it like you're okay, but deep down, you know there's a dark void... a void of loneliness.
As if on cue, you feel Noel wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder. He rocks you gently, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you.
"Shhhh. It's okay. You're okay."
"I'm sorry. I'm just scared this will be all I'll ever be."
"...then you are perfect. Exactly as you are."
"What does that mean?"
"It means..." His eyes met yours, and time seemed to stop in its tracks. "I fancy you."
And then he kissed you. He simply pulled away from the embrace and pressed his lips to yours. As if he'd done it a million times before. It was candid, raw... sincere. And then he pulled away, as though regretting letting his impulses get the better of him.
"Shit! I am so, so sorry! I shouldn't-"
But before he could utter another word, you gripped his shoulders, and pulled him towards you filling in the space between your lips, with a series of messy, breathless pecks, growing more intense with each touch. You had never imagined this would actually happen, and yet you'd waited for it forever. His hands gripped your skull, his black painted nails entangling in your hair.
"Your hair's so soft. But..." he mumbled. "Not as good as mine."
"Shut up, Noel."
You felt his lips curl into a smirk against the skin of your cheek. And you couldn't help but giggle, turning your head slightly to meet his touch. Your insides doubled over as his cheeky mouth lavished yours, tongues dancing in the most passionate, most intimate of first unions. And yet his arms held you close with such care, such devotion, such fondness, his thumb absentmindedly caressing your shoulder.
Slowly, the kiss began to soften, gradually petering out, until Noel's nose rested against your own, taking a moment to catch his breath.
"I fancy you too." You gently pulled away, meeting his gaze. Somehow, his face seemed even more beautiful than before; he was so very... pretty - the way his cheekbones jutted through his skin; the sharp, yet vast plane that sat atop the bridge of his nose; the lustre of his blue irises, so bright they almost seemed out of place, what with the sable blackness of his hair.
Noel smiled at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear tenderly.
"I rate that an eight and a half." He exclaimed, fingers now raking through his own hair.
"Pardon?"
"The kiss. Solid eight and a half."
"I'm offended, Noel. Only an eight?"
"Ah-ah, don't forget the half!"
"Piss off."
"Well..." and back was that cheeky smirk plastered on his face. "I never said you couldn't try again, did I?"
"You'll have to catch me first." You swung your legs back and over the edge, feet skimming the ladder rungs, as you practically jumped from the roof and started running to the car.
Noel followed suit, chasing after you. "I think you forget-"
You could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer, and so you ran faster, giddy with nerves; he truly made you feel like a teenager again.
"I-" And he lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around you. "Used to play football."
"Yeah, but you gave it up to go to art college, you nonce!"
Noel released you from his grasp, keeping one arm around your waist, as you embraced his shoulders. You strolled back the rest of the way to the car, as you caught your breath.
"Imagine if your old chavvy football mates saw you today." You said, "All jazzed up in your silver boots strutting about the country in your chelsea boots and 70s heels."
"They'd be fucking jealous of me."
"Would they?"
"Yeah. Cause I just kissed a pretty girl on the roof." Noel leaned over and gave your cheek a quick peck. "And that you're in my company, not theirs."
"I don't think I'd be their type."
"Well then, they're just missing out aren't they?" He stifled a chuckle.
"Noel..."
"Hmm?"
"Nothing. I just like saying your name."
"Y/n... Y/n... Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!!! I like shouting your name," he continued. "Y/n! Y/n!!! Y/n!!!!!"
You giggled. "Shhh! Julian will hear you all the way in Leeds!"
Noel grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his embrace.
"Ahhh. Come on, let's get back."
You piled into his car and drove back to the flat, windows down, screaming your lungs out to Bowie.
‘and we climbed on to the roof, the museum and someone made love in the glass. and i forgot my name...’
42 notes · View notes
Photo
this play fucking kills me
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
@projectbway event 04 : free week — the glass menagerie
[she blows the candles out.]
— scene seven, tennessee williams
34 notes · View notes
Text
so you're telling me i only just realised that lucy in 1992 dracula is mrs hortense in set the thames on fire? how did i miss that?!
1 note · View note