#you joyless fucks /with love
Text
I did NOT spend five fucking years breaking my back and my brain getting a degree in this for people to say that musical theatre is corny and useless and inherently shameful.
#YOU get through a two-show day with 9 intensive dance numbers!! YOU learn a sondheim score!!!! YOU sing an emotionally intense song that#hits a little too hard without crying onstage!!!!!!!!! YOU do all the work of singing a song in a strange style in a consistently healthy#way that doesn't ruin your voice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#YOU do the vocal stamina exercises and sit in a practice room for 50 minutes each day going over the same phrase to figure out#how it sits in your voice without losing your sanity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP#In the Vents#oh I am BITTER today my friends#it is a BAD chronic illness day#do not MAKE me pull out my 10 minute stephen schwartz presentation do not MAKE me scream about the instrumentation in#the deathnote stage musical do not MAKE me live-stream a practice session of trying to learn how to sing 'stupid with love' without#sounding like a dying rabid animal#NOBODY WANTS ANY OF THAT BUT I WILL DO IT IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND™#WATCH RAGS! WATCH LIGHT IN THE PIAZZA! WATCH PASSION! WATCH PARADE! WATCH THE COLOR PURPLE! IF YOU'RE /SO/ INSISTENT THAT EVERY WORK HAS TO#DEAL WITH BIG SOCIAL/PERSONAL ISSUES IN A COMPLETELY REALISTICALLY SERIOUS WAY TO BE WORTHY OF ATTENTION#SOMETHING DOESN'T HAVE TO BE GRITTY AND JOYLESS AND GRIM TO HAVE ANYTHING MEANINGFUL TO SAY ABOUT THOSE ISSUES#WICKED HAS THEMES OF OPPRESSION THAT ARE ARTICULATED MORE ORGANICALLY THAN A LOT OF '''''SERIOUS''''' WORKS BUT NOBODY WANTS ME TO TALK#ABOUT THAT
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
No they fucking didn’t!!!!!!!!!! Holyfffff
#fuck these kids fuck them you don’t underSTAND#I endeared this fucking back being boring as fuck from 2007-right now with very few moments of interest#endured* lol only now are we endearing#I have the fucking tweets to prove it arguing with half of them. they were boring predictable joyless fucks#god why now. biggest headline shows and Now. I fucking love it#Pete saying different words every set? actually mind blowing and made me cry#the things good bands who like themselves do…took fob 25 yrs
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I will always find it SO fucking funny when people are just absolutely SEETHING over somebody packing their partner’s lunch for them
#‘omg I can’t believe she does this’ ‘I would NEVER do this for a MAN’#cool you don’t need to#you also don’t need to be a joyless fuck on somebody else’s post just because you cannot conceive anybody ever caring about a man#it’s called doing nice things for the people you love because you love them#some innocent lady: here’s the lunch I packed for my husband today :)#the comments: how does it feel to be held hostage#the comments: I would never do this so clearly nobody else would ever choose to do this either
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
I ended an 8 year friendship with someone who had hateful garbage to say about anything I liked and I'm going to give them the finger by seeing Titanic in the theatres for its 25th anniversary on Sunday.
#I fucking love that movie I don't care if you think it's for cringey straight girls!!!!!! Fuck you you sorry joyless sack of garbage!!!!!#While we're at it I liked Legally Blonde!!!!! It was a fun movie!!!!
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
mitb thots are. i don't care that boohoo the women's cash in had no build up or chase again boohoo sentiment that i've seen around i don't Care. liv has had enough build up lmao she should have won last year i do not want them to waste even more time w liv so i'm good w this. if someone says a bad thing abt shotzi for fucking up Once (1) i kill them on sight. usos vs profits was Stellar. theory eat shit vince mcmahon die at my hands
#boooo goddamn i realize i Also shit on wwe a lot these days but some people are. for the love of god#joyless fucks all around#i also Am talking from a mitb exclusive pov like. i don't know how good the storylines have been leading up to mitb#knowing wwe? probably kinda lame. probably kinda soul-less#but you know how it is 😔#also it was like. 5 matches total?? or something what the fuck?? isn't that. a very tiny number of matches for a ppv. i'm fine w it but#it feels weird#oh nay
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
this musical podcast is charming but I will not become involved in the fandom because I don't believe in hero-worshipping celebrities or referring to them exclusively by their first names (also one of the pettier reasons I hate tswift fans). no matter how friendly or approachable or cool-seeming these people are, they are at the end of the day performers who are being paid and getting fans based in large part on how charming and likeable they are, so they have incentive to appear a certain way. maybe they are just as lovely in private as they are in public, but ultimately they're still strangers to the vast majority of fans who interact with them. and can I be real. these musicals aren't THAT good
#cor.txt#mostly it's that I get annoyed when fans refer to people they don't know by their first names tho#the 101 song was the funniest thing I've heard all month perhaps#but the joke that one of the characters was a pretending to be??? a klan member??? felt really inapproriate#they're improvised so naturally they're not as polished but also most of them basically sound the same. to me#not sorry if I sound like a joyless cynic but you cannot put anyone on a pedestal#fandomzing real life people was soo bad in crit role fandom. they're just some guys. please#meanwhile I will ethically be obsessing over a fictional man. wait no fuck all fictional characters are expressions#of a human author's creative processs and carry with them the assumptions and bigotries that author holds conciously or not#it's less direct I guess. like I can talk about how much I like killua without being worried about the fact that he has independent thought#and will do something that will genuinely hurt another living human being. actually its funny I picked killua#bc I do love him but he HAS murdered people. but that's okay <3
1 note
·
View note
Text
the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.
capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.
now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.
and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.
and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.
and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".
it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"
#this was much longer i had to cut it down for legibility#but i do want to say i am aware this post doesnt touch on human rights violations as a result of fast fashion#that is because it deserves its own post with a completely different tone#i am an environmental educator#so that's what i know the most about. it wouldn't be appropriate of me to mention off-hand the real and legitimate suffering#that people are going through#without doing my research and providing real ways to help#this is a vent post about a thing i'm watching happen; not a call to action. it would be INCREDIBLY demeaning#to all those affected by the fast fashion industry to pretend that a post like this could speak to their suffering#unfortunately one of the horrible things about latestage capitalism as an activist is that SO many things are linked to this#and i WANT to talk about all of them but it would be a book in its own right. in fact there ARE books about each level of this#and i encourage you to seek them out and read them!!! i am not an expert on that i am just a person on tumblr doing my favorite activity#(complaining)#and it's like - this is the individual versus the industry problem again right because im blaming myself#for being an expert on environmental disaster (which is fucking important) but not knowing EVERYTHING about fast fashion#i'm blaming myself for not covering the many layers of this incredibly complicated problem im pointing out#rather than being like. yeah so actually the fault here lies with the billion dollar industries actually.#my failure to be able to condense an incredibly immense problem that is BOOK-LENGTH into a single text post that i post for free#is not in ANY fucking way the same amount of harm as. you know. the ACTUAL COMPANIES doing this ACTUAL THING for ACTUAL MONEY.#anyway im gonna go donate money while i'm thinking about it. maybe you can too. we can both just agree - well i fuckin tried didn't i#which is more than their CEOs can say
15K notes
·
View notes
Note
I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!
Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"
I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.
To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.
But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!
I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.
458 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am just gonna rip the band-aid off.
At some point in your life, you will unwittingly do one or more of the following:
Trigger someone
Fall in love with a piece of art/music/writing/etc. created by someone who has done (or will do) something you find morally reprehensible
Make a decision that really screws over someone you care about
Befriend someone who hurts others
Believe and/or spread misinformation
Espouse the "wrong side" in a relatively major piece of discourse
Defend an abusive person
There is this hyper-purity mentality that, if you are good and aware enough, you can avoid stepping in these shit piles. There's a mentality that it is your duty to avoid stepping in these shit piles. But the truth is, we fuck up. We are human and fallible. The truth is, bad people are extremely clever at hiding their badness. The truth is, the only way to never fuck up is to simply not engage in life.
Inadvertently doing any of these things does not define your morality. What defines your morality is what you do next, how you bounce back, how you improve yourself, what you learn.
You will be a better, kinder, more empathetic, more intelligent person if you first accept that you will mess up, and that you are ready to do the clean-up and self-reflection afterwards when you inevitably do. To not afford yourself that grace is to doom yourself to a terrifying and joyless life where every interaction will make or break you as a human.
#this is not me telling you to grant grace to people who repeatedly and deliberately do bad things#this is me telling you to cut YOURSELF a break instead of trying to sanitize your spotify playlist before you listen to anything
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
love the people who think kim is nothing but a joyless hardass who never does or says anything fun like . bestie. did we even play the same game . he thinks one of the suspects could potentially be a drummer and then immediately says "wait scratch that. that's stupid." and when you see an old ass ice cream machine in the basement he is disappointed when there's no ice cream in it bc he wanted some. and he will fucking help you harass two kids for the sole purpose of stealing their jackets. and he thinks it is fucking so funny when harry has his bisexual awakening and will just be like "well damn. yeah no detective that dude's open shirt and good smell sure was mysterious." and when you actually do meet the culprit, the MURDERER you have been searching for, and he talks about how mf BAD he wants to shoot this one guy every single day of his mf life kim goes "you wanted to save the treat for later, huh" LIKE BRO THIS DUDE IS FUNNY
#disco elysium#kim kitsuragi#rip to you bitches who think he's nothing but a wet blanket but im different
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
God I just thought about an idea for pedro and reader, reading your last post...
They are in a relationship and live together. The reader is also an actress. She asks pedro to practice her lines with her. In the play, she is having a really long line, breaking up with the person ans leaving them... pedro can't continue... at night in bed they are cuddling and pedro talks about how he hated the feeling or the thought of the reader ever leaving
(changed this slightly, hope that is OK...)
bad acting (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)
a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.
thanks, as always, for everything.
(also I did that thing where I didn't save this on drafts fast enough and the whole fucking thing deleted so you could say im LIVID sorry if this rewrite felt rushed.)
summary: things get a little... too real.
—————————————————————————
"You can't laugh."
"I'm not gonna laugh!"
Pedro hands you his iPad, script loaded on the screen. "I'm serious," you warn him, "you had to stop last time, the acting was so bad."
"Just read the sides, baby."
You know he isn't nervous about the audition— if he was, he sure as shit wouldn't be practicing with you. Those rehearsals are reserved for his coach, or someone who can actually talk him through the scene. This was just a formality, a quick read-through for some anthological TV show about people in failing marriages. Season 2 of Oscar's old Amazon thing. With the audition being on Zoom tomorrow, the whole process feels fairly relaxed.
"Should I read it in a lady voice? Will that set the scene?"
"Please don't."
"Scottish accent?"
"Babe."
"Hmm." You clear your throat loudly, for dramatic effect. Across the room, feet propped on the desk, Pedro rolls his eyes. He's got his cheaters on, but no script— the audition's supposed to be off-book. "From the first page?"
"You're stalling."
"Ugh. Ok. Here we go." Leaning forward, you scroll to the highlighted text on the iPad. "Stop, David. You don't know what you're talking about."
Pedro's posture straightens; ever the professional, it's like watching a switch flip. The humored lines beside his eyes, little crows feet that crinkle when he looks at you, disappear completely. His brow furrows, gaze darkens.
"Of course I do, dammit. I'm done with this, all of this. It's like living in a mausoleum, Emma. I'd rather. Do you remember what love even feels like? Because I look at you, and I just... don't, anymore."
"You don't mean that."
"I do! I'm so tired of this. Life with you is joyless. Every day, I come home from work and just sit in the goddamn driveway because I don't want to come in the house. It's hard to be in the same room as you. I can't bring her back, Emma, and I miss her and I'm sorry she's dead. But it isn't my fucking fault and I wish you'd stop pretending it was."
His voice cracks, just a little. You frown as he grabs the glass of water beside him, pausing to wait, but he motions for you to continue.
"That's cruel," you read, "and you know it. That's not fair."
"None of this is fair!" Pedro exclaims. "That's the whole point. It's not fair that our daughter is dead while the girl who was driving got to walk away clean. Life isn't fucking fair. But it's life. And you've sucked all the light out of mine. I can't stand you, anymore, I'm sorry. I just can't. It's not that we can't make it work, it's that I don't want to make it work. If I never see you again, it'll be too soon. Jesus christ, I hate every part of this."
"Are you done? Have you gotten it all off your chest?"
"Don't placate me! This isn't one of your stupid therapy sessions, Emma, you can't fix this with a breathing worksheet and a roleplaying exercise. Be fucking serious. Every day I wake up and I wish I'd never met you. At least then, she wouldn't be dead, because she'd never have existed. And maybe I'd known some goddamn peace."
The page ends there, and you glance up. Pedro has his head in his hands, eyes closed.
"That was good," you offer tentatively, searching for some kind of sign as to what his next move is. He's gracious about work stuff, but you're always a little afraid of mucking up his process.
When he looks up, his eyes are glossy. "Yeah," Pedro says, croakily, clearing his throat quietly before rising from the chair. He takes the iPad back, wordlessly, shuttering the case over the screen.
"Wanna do it again? You were spot-on, Pedge, but we can go over it again if you want to."
"No," he says quickly. "No, I'm good. I'm fine. It's on Zoom, it'll be easy. I'm fine."
Weird. Just a little. Before you can dwell on his sudden cageyness, he's up, headed for the door.
"I'm gonna walk the dogs. We can catch up on Bake-Off, when I get back?"
Pedro leaves before you can answer.
— — —
No sooner have the leashes been hung back by the door, than Pedro is beside you on the couch, all hands and light touches. It's as if he can't bear to lost contact. You allow him to reposition you, reaching a hand around your waist as you reach for the remote.
"Good walk?"
He hums, tugging you against him. Settles, finally, once you're half-reclined, back against his chest, arm around your middle. You fiddle with the edge of his sleeve as the bakers fumble their way through the signature challenge.
It's not that the clinginess bothers you— he's like this sometimes, when he's just returned home, or you've arrived in LA, or met somewhere in the middle. Every separation leaves him want for touch. It's the one thing you can't give him, while you're apart.
But he's been home a couple weeks now, in between reshoots for a new project. Been home all day, in fact, in an orbit around you while you attempted to work from home. (A little too close, frankly, but you can't really complain.)
"You okay?" You whisper, as the timer runs down on the technical bake.
No answer. Just a tightened grip on your waist, and a firm kiss to the top of your head.
— — —
It isn't until later, in bed and half-asleep, that you pinpoint the source of the tension.
You'd have thought he was already asleep, save for the soft carding of his fingers through the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. Deep, even breaths tickle your forehead; he's curled around you, arm draped over your back. Had positioned himself this way silently, looking a little silly brooding in his Muppet-patterned pj pants.
"We're never reading lines again," Pedro whispers into the darkness.
"Was the acting that bad?"
Your attempt for levity falls flat. He is quiet, long enough for you roll backwards slightly, to get a better look at his face. A deep-set frown has taken root.
"No, it..." He tugs you closer again, tucking your head beneath his chin. If he weren't so sad, you'd call uncle for claustrophobia; your nose is squished into his jugular. But you lay still, waiting for him to continue.
"It felt too real," Pedro concedes. He inhales sharply, and you can feel it against your own chest.
The kiss you press to the hollow of his throat, doesn't feel good enough. You wiggle, tilting your head to press one against his toothpaste-tasting lips. Whiskers tickle the corner of your mouth.
"Baby, I know you were... pretending." A thin line between placating him and treading on his professionalism. "If our pretend daughter died in a car crash, I know you wouldn't divorce me for being too sad."
"It's not funny." With a groan, he kisses you again, resting his forehead against yours. "I hated saying that stuff to you. Felt too real."
The bone-crushing spooning is making a little more sense, now.
"I love you, but you're a sap."
"Hmph."
You smile into the next kiss. "A very sweet sap, though."
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal rpf#pedro pascal x male reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#din djarin#joel miller#joel miller x reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x male reader#joel miller x male reader#the mandolorian
343 notes
·
View notes
Note
May I ask for new year’s eve Dreamling watching the ball drop because Hob celebrates every year, Morpheus isn’t the sort of person who cares at all, but Hob forces him to celebrate and wear the dumb paper glasses and stuff anyway
"Hob," Dream says, not for the first time, in a deeply pained tone. "I simply do not see why this rigmarole is necessary."
"It's necessary because I say it's necessary, you joyless git." Hob dulls the sting by leaning over to plant a kiss on Dream's cheek, adjust the 2024 cardboard glitter crown from Tesco that is perched atop the dread dark head of the immortal King of Dreams and Nightmares, and throw an arm over his shoulders -- all of which Dream suffers with the tense, bristled wariness of a cat suddenly subjected to excessive snuggling. "Plus, there's going to be a general election this year -- fucking finally -- and the Tories are going to get thrown out on their kleptocratic arses. Good as any reason to celebrate, if you ask me."
Morpheus mutters something under his breath that Hob can't understand but doesn't sound particularly complimentary, but for once in his eternal-ageless-stubborn-bastard life, decides not to press the point. He's already been horribly traumatized by enduring the New Year's Eve party and being forced to socialize with Hob's friends from around London and the South East and colleagues from Goldsmiths and all the other strays he's picked up over the years (indeed, very much like Dream himself). All right, socialize might be a stretch. More like lurking ominously with a single glass of prosecco and giving the other guests a fright when they come round the corner too fast, but at least he hasn't run screaming into the night or huffily evaporated into the Dreaming never to return, so Hob is going to optimistically count that as a success. Besides, it is tacitly agreed between the two of them that Hob's love language is cheerily bullying Morpheus into taking part in normal human courtship activities and Morpheus's concession is to act like this is the worst thing to ever happen to him in literally eighty billion years, but still grudgingly put up with it. Baby steps, Hob thinks, taking a swig of his own bubbly and looking back at the television. Baby steps.
It's already the New Year in Oz and the rest of Down Under, and five hours off yet in New York, where they're still greasing up the ball drop in Times Square, but it's just about time in London, the fireworks over the Thames are all set to go, and Hob and the ten other people in his flat (hardly an excessive number, not that you'd know it from Morpheus's face) lean forward in eagerness. The bloke on the BBC leads a countdown, it rolls over to 00:00:01 GMT, 1 January 2024, and everyone lets out a boozy cheer, raising glasses to salute each other and making more please-God-help-us jokes about the Tories. Hob, meanwhile, turns to Morpheus, who gazes expectantly back at him with those luminous, star-flecked eyes, and leans in to kiss him -- quickly, chastely, nothing to make the silly goose come over in his melodramatic conniptions all over again. "Happy new year, darling."
Dream huffs, but he does look slightly pleased. (It's a subtle art, reading his expressions, and to the untutored looks no different from "mildly constipated," but Hob still knows his Stranger well.) "Happy new year, Hob Gadling," he allows, after a long moment. "I still do not understand why you feel it necessary to celebrate all this. Have you not seen so many that it is no longer special?"
"See, that's exactly why." Hob should get up and refill the pigs-in-blankets tray, as there is evidently nothing that British academics love more and it has been descended on like starving vultures, but he doesn't feel like it, not yet. He grins at Morpheus instead, lowering his voice, not that there's much risk of anyone overhearing. "A bloke born all the way back in God's Year 1356, and I'm still here, ringing in the fucking year 2024? That's a bloody miracle, you ask me. And with you, no less? What else would I want in the whole world?"
Dream's expression melts a little, despite himself. A faint pink flush climbs into his elegant ice-sculpted cheeks, and he huffs. "You are quite the flatterer, Robert Gadling."
"Eh." Hob takes a more comfortable position, settles deeper into the couch cushions, and feels, with great vindication, Dream's head tip and lean and rest on his shoulder, snuggling closer entirely of his own volition. "You love it."
134 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi!!! I literally adore your writing and would love to see number 8 and 13 from the angst writing prompts with Azriel!!! Tysm and ily💗💗💗
Here you go! This got very angsty and sad, I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me 😭hope you enjoy!
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
It felt like the chiming of the clock had become a damn death knell.
Every hour it announced was a chime of loneliness. Emptiness. Of bare, draughty rooms. A house that had once been filled with such love, and was now filled with…nothing. Nothing but you, and your thoughts, and your feelings.
The war with Hybern had changed you all in some way. Hardened you all. But Azriel…your mate…
You were lucky if you saw him for a couple of hours every day, now. He’d taken more work upon his shoulders, even with protests from Rhys himself — anything to keep him busy. And when he was done with work, well — to tell the truth, you didn’t have a fucking clue where he spent his nights these days.
All you knew was that the war had changed him. And you…you bore the brunt of it. Your life wasn’t unlike how it had been before you’d met your mate.
Quiet. Dull. Joyless.
Lonely.
You wished he would just speak to you. The Mother knew, you’d tried time and time again. And granted, Az had never been one to sit and bare his feelings to the world. But to you…he’d trusted you with them once.
He may as well have been a stranger, now.
Two chimes shuddered from down the hall. Two a.m. Azriel hadn’t stopped for dinner before announcing that he was heading out. Where, you didn’t know. You’d tried to occupy yourself while you waited for him to return; burying your nose in a book and writing in your journal, pacing the floors for a while. Sleep didn’t find you. Neither did any comfort. You perched on the edge of your bed and waited.
Three chimes. Three a.m. The house was too quiet, the sound of your breathing too loud. You were so damn cold, right down to your very bones—
The click of a latch downstairs jolted you from your thoughts. You stiffened, listening out for the sound of Az’s boots thudding on the floor of the foyer. The whisper of him shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up. You waited for a wave of relief to hit you — he was home safe and sound — but it never came.
You heard him traipsing up the stairs, every step sounding more weary than the last. You folded your hands in your lap, waiting—
Az stepped over the threshold of your bedroom. Glimpsed you sat on the bed. He stopped in the doorway, staring at you.
“What’re you doing?” He asked, his voice rough. The fact that he’d expected — or maybe even hoped — for you to be asleep, stung a bit.
You stared back at him. “Waiting for you.”
He strode further into the room, pulling his shirt over his head. The way his usually precise, graceful movements were sluggish, a bit sloppy, told you he’d been holed up in a tavern somewhere. Or—
Gods, you hoped it had just been a tavern.
“I told you not to wait up.” He grunted, fingers going to the buttons of his trousers.
“I know you did.”
“Then why did you?”
You flinched; not that he’d notice, these days, that his words hurt you. He didn’t seem to notice anything.
“I wanted to see you.” You shrugged weakly.
For a moment, he said nothing. And then: “I told you I’d be out late.”
Hardly. You’d have been lucky to receive so many words from him. He’d merely muttered the same, vague sentence about going out, and then he’d been gone.
You’d know. You’d combed through the interaction enough times since he’d walked out the door.
And as you combed through it yet again, he merely threw himself down on the bed, now in just a pair of undershorts, and pulled the sheet up over him. He draped an arm over his face. Closed his eyes.
But you weren’t done.
“Where were you?” You asked quietly.
“Rita’s.” He mumbled. “With Mor.”
Liar. He was a gods-damned liar. You knew for a fact that Mor had been busy tonight — it was why you’d not had any company yourself.
“Oh. Okay.” You nodded, standing from the bed. “Rita’s with Mor. Got it.”
He didn’t even crack an eye open as you traipsed round to his side of the bed. Nor when you picked up the shirt he’d discarded to the floor, lifting it to your face.
The perfume that radiated from the fabric was sickeningly sweet. You grimaced, chucking it onto the chair in the corner of the room.”
“Azriel.”
“Mm.”
“Where were you tonight?”
With a heavy sigh, he rolled over. “I told you. Rita—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Azriel.” You so, so wanted to sound angry — gods above, you felt it — but your voice cracked. “Don’t you think I deserve more than that?”
“Don’t you think I deserve to have a night of enjoyment without being hounded?”
Gods, it hurt. It hurt so, so bad that all you could do was drop to your knees on his side of the bed. A sob escaped your lips.
Az sighed again, softer this time. “Just come to bed, Y/N.”
“Is it so bad,” you cried, “to want to see my mate? To want to talk to you and spend time with you? To be with you?”
“Gods, Y/N, I went out for a few drinks—”
“I never see you anymore, Azriel! We don’t spend time together, we don’t eat together, sometimes we don’t even sleep together. I miss you. I’m tired of you pushing me away.”
“And I’m tired of not being able to walk into my house without being nagged.”
“I just want you to talk to me!” You pushed off the floor, your voice raised. “I’m sick of feeling like I don’t even have a mate. I’m sick of being on my own. I’m sick of waking up in the night to an empty bed!”
“Well if I’m so bad,” he snapped, “why are you still here?”
“Because I fucking love you!”
He stared at you. And you stared back.
And he said nothing. Not a word. And that was the moment you broke.
Your tears were uncontrollable as you shook your head, stepping away. You were shaking, trembling all over, vaguely aware that you were pulling clothes on over your nightdress, socks and shoes—
“What are you doing?” Az sat up quickly, watching you. “Y/N?”
“I need some space, Azriel.” You choked. “I can’t stay here like this. I want to help you. I want to be with you. But I can’t do this on my own.”
“You’re not on your own. Look, I’m sorry, just come to bed—”
“I’m going to Amren’s. I’ll…I’ll see you in a few days.”
It took everything — every bit of strength in your heart and your soul to turn away. To traipse towards the door.
“Please, Y/N.” Azriel’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
You stopped in the doorway, your back to him. Your eyes shuttered.
“Give me a few days,” you whispered.
And left.
#acotar#acotar fandom#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#ask#angst prompts#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#request#angst
835 notes
·
View notes
Text
south park recommendations (all on ao3)
The Quiet Box - DigitalAlice (Creek + Hurt/Comfort + Panic Attacks)
Portraiture - aesoprock (Style + Enemies to Friends to Lovers + Angst + TW // References to Drugs + Animal Death + Underage Drinking + Suicidal Thoughts + Continuing)
Joyless Street - julads (Style + Angst + TW // Suicide Attempt & Alcohol)
you could never be strong, you could only be free - coveredinsun (Style + Angst & Hurt/Comfort) I would also recommend listening to There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths while reading.
Always - VanishLou (Style + Angst & Hurt/Comfort + TW // School Shooting & Serious Injuries)
A Shot Through The Heart - jennahowes11 (Style + Angst & Hurt/Comfort + TW // School Shooting & Serious Injuries)
Makes Me Feel Safe - tertsoy (Style + Fluff & Hurt/Comfort)
Fireworks - Kitty_Khaos (Style + Fluff + TW // Drinking & Drugs)
We're Here Now - redbellpepper (Style + Angst & Hurt/Comfort + TW // Past Rape + Suicide Attempt + Past Drugs & Alcohol + Smut) I would also recommend listening to Fourth of July - Sufjan Stevens while reading.
i'll go with you (stay with me) - scribespirare (Style + Hurt/Comfort & Fluff + TW // Post School Shooting & Serious Injuries)
When I Can't Power Through - secondhandsmoker (Style + Angst & Hurt/Comfort + TW // Past Suicide Attempt + Eating Disorder + Past Self-Harm + Past Alcohol Abuse + Drug Use)
there's a field of stars on your tongue - xX_VanessA_Xx (Style + Fluff + Love Confession)
There's My Boy - fancypearl (Creek + Angst + Major Character Death + TW // Implied Rape + Kidnapping + Child Abuse + Non-Consensual Drug Use + Implied Suicide + this one is very fucking heavy & dark so be warned)
#fic rec#fic recs#south park fanfiction#sp style#sp creek#south park#stan marsh#kyle broflovski#craig tucker#tweek tweak#septrose post
284 notes
·
View notes
Text
for me this is literally the saddest connor line bc there's no debating it. not like "angel doesn't love me" or "darla died to get away from me", things which are wrong but he's internalised bc of what a mess he is. "you don't like me" he says to the team, and he's right. they don't. they care, they're sad about what happened to him, they're okay with him being around, but they don't like him. they don't enjoy being around him. does anybody besides Jasmine!Cordy who was faking it? hell we the audience very vocally did Not enjoy a considerable bulk of the time we spent with connor. he's unpleasant and joyless and stuck in a loop and hostile and creepy but so deeply traumatised that I sympathise, I feel bad for him and wish all that shit hadn't happened to him but i don't like him. the Fang Gang try to do right by connor where they can but you can't force Like, and it's not easy to fake it either. wanting things to be better for him isn't the same as actually wanting to be around him themselves, and he can tell. and they can't deny it. and isn't that fucking sad.
#something about that feeling of being a kid who can tell people don't vibe with them#connor angel#angel the series#this isnt touching angel himself really who i think Does like connor but connor cant tell bc its under all that grief#but gunn lorne eventually fred. they would lose exactly zero sleep if they never saw connor again#and i cant even blame them
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eddie-isms
Since the last set of miscellaneous best friend!Eddie headcanons I posted did so well, I figured I’d type up some more. :)
18+
do not interact if you’re under 18 years old!
Eddie makes fun of you for being lactose intolerant. “Bunny, you can’t even digest ice cream correctly. It’s like god wanted you to live a joyless life.” <3
Eddie sneezes obnoxiously loud. He doesn’t really do it on purpose, he’s just a naturally loud sneezer. <3
Remember how I said Eddie loves naps? Yeah, if he gets bored with whatever he’s doing, he’ll just drag you back to the bedroom for an impromptu nap and you kind of just have to accept it. <3
Eddie will challenge you to a burping contest and he expects you to put in genuine effort every single time because “this is not a game, this is serious shit.” <3
Eddie takes periodic breaks from smoking and drinking to make sure that he doesn’t build up too high of a tolerance. During these breaks he simply replaces drugs with sugar, which is somehow worse. He’s like a hyper little kid on Halloween night. <3
Eddie still goes to a pediatrician/family medicine doctor and he gets very upset when they don’t offer him a lollipop and a sticker at the end of his appointment. “Why did I even show up? What’s the point in me even being here if they’re not gonna give me anything, jitterbug? I really fucking wanted that Gandalf sticker. This is horseshit.” <3
Eddie calls french toast “eggy-loaf.” No one knows where he got that name from, but he’s been calling it that for as long as you’ve known him. <3
Eddie’s gotten poison ivy way too many times to count. He got it on his dick twice in the summer of ‘84. Wayne laughed at him both times. <3
Most of the mugs in the Munsons’ collection are technically Wayne’s, but the Garfield mug? That’s 100% Eddie’s. He got it on a road trip with Wayne when he was ten and has heralded it as one of his most prized possessions ever since. Interestingly, when Eddie drinks coffee in the morning, he uses one of Wayne’s mugs because he refuses to use his special Garfield mug for anything other than hot cocoa and soup. One time you made the mistake of brewing Eddie some tea in his Garfield mug while he was sick. Of course, Eddie still drank the tea because he’s not wasteful, but he did so while glaring at you ceaselessly. <3
Eddie is a lighter thief… and a scrunchie thief… and a pencil thief… and a t-shirt thief. Basically anything that you own also belongs to Eddie and he will take it without warning. In his defense, he doesn’t mean to steal anything from you, he just borrows your stuff and forgets to give it back to you. <3
Eddie draws little sketches for you all the time. For example, he once drew you a picture of your favorite flower cradled in the bony hand of a skeleton; it was actually insanely good. However, instead of giving them to you like a normal person, he folds them into paper airplanes and throws them at you as hard as he can. <3
Eddie says “safety” every single time he farts. <3
Eddie almost always has a tiny piece of gravel caught in his shoe, it’s the bane of his existence. <3
Eddie is surprisingly strong (as we all know) and he uses that strength for nefarious purposes, like body slamming you onto the couch for no fucking reason; something he does almost daily. He always finishes this epic move by pinning you down and counting to three. Then he’ll spend the next two minutes celebrating his “victory.” <3
When Eddie gets really excited, he’ll grab your hand and squeeze it just a little too tight. He doesn’t even really mean to do that, or at least he doesn’t mean to squeeze quite so hard, but he can’t really contain himself when he gets all hyped up. <3
You’ve learned not to talk about how heavy/big you are around Eddie because he almost sees it as a challenge. “What, so you think I can’t pick you up? You think I can’t lift that much? You think I’m a whimp, huh?” He’ll then hoist you into the air just to prove a point. <3
Also, whenever you talk badly about yourself in front of him, he makes you say three things that you like about yourself off the top of your head. It’s a trick that you started using on him during the dark days of puberty and, honestly, you regret teaching it to him. <3
Eddie is insanely competitive when it comes to board games, especially Pictionary. <3
Eddie often randomly challenges you to thumb wars and, when you don’t accept, he pouts like a baby. <3
Whenever Eddie’s hands get cold, he’ll sneak up behind you and press them against your cheeks or the back of your neck just to shock you. <3
Eddie loves it when you torment him like he does to you because he thinks you look especially beautiful when you’re being ornery. <3
Eddie talks about you to the new Hellfire members as if you’re dead and not just away at college. “Our very own Hellfire queen, the beloved bearer of snacks, may her memory live on forever,” He declares theatrically. “Oh, damn, how’d she die?” One of the freshmen asks. Gareth sighs, “She’s not dead, Munson’s just a dweeb.” <3
He impersonates Yoda… like a lot, one could even say he does it a little too often. <3
“Grub, can you turn your music down a bit? I’m trying to study.” “Do or do not. There is no try.” “Eddie!” <3
Also slips into Shakespearean mode every now and then. <3
“Hey, grub, should I wear my hair up or down with this dress?” “To wear it up or to wear it down, that is the question.” “Dude, you’re such a dork.” <3
He’s tried to create a special friendship handshake for the two of you multiple times, but the problem is he makes them way too complicated so neither of you can remember them. <3
Any time you have ever worn a two piece swimsuit in front of him, he’s blown a raspberry on your tummy. He doesn’t do it to embarrass you or to make you feel insecure about your belly, quite the opposite, he likes your belly so much that he can’t suppress the primal urge to blow a raspberry on it every time he sees it. In his mind, it makes perfect sense, but, in yours, not so much. <3
Eddie physically cannot go twenty-four hours without seeing you or, at least, talking to you on the phone. <3
Eddie will take you and your friends to see a rom-com if you ask him too. If it’s good enough, he’ll even secretly enjoy it too. <3
Eddie actually really enjoys hanging out with you and your friends, so much so that he’ll forever be bitter about the fact that he’s not allowed to come to your group sleepovers. Of course, you want to invite him, but they typically take place at one of your friends houses and, given that he is a dude that’s attracted to women and that has the capacity to knock up the majority of your friend group, none of their parents are super fond of the idea of him spending the night with you guys. He gets it, obviously not everyone can be as forward thinking as your angel of a mom, but it still sucks nonetheless. </3
You try to make up for that by doing some of the same activities at your sleepovers with him; face masks, hair braiding, makeovers, taking the quizzes in your copy of this month’s issues of Cosmopolitan and Seventeen Magazine, etc. Honestly, Eddie has had to lie on so many of those goddamn quizzes, just so you wouldn’t find out that he’s hopelessly in love with you. <3
Eddie makes NPCs for his Hellfire campaigns that are inspired by you; it’s his way of including you in the campaigns while you’re away at college. He’ll even fill you in on how your NPCs are fairing in the campaigns every Friday over the phone after he gets home from the club’s meetings. <3
Eddie kinda uses Philby as his therapist. Whenever he’s had a hard day, he’ll take your dog on a long walk, talking through whatever’s on his mind all the while. You accidentally caught them in the midst of one of these therapy sessions once and Eddie’s face went beet red from embarrassment. <3
Eddie’s brain short-circuits every single time you boop his nose (which is often, because how could you not?). It’s like his reset button. He’ll just be rambling on and on about something, most likely either an upcoming campaign or a sick guitar riff he came up with the other day, and you’ll just give that sweet little nose of his a quick, audible boop and suddenly the words are dying on his tongue. His cheeks flush a sweet rosy hue and his mouth parts in an inaudible gasp. It’s a rare moment of speechlessness for him, as if that one affectionate touch was enough to halt his ever-racing thoughts. Unfortunately, the more often you boop his nose, the more quickly he begins to recover, but that initial moment of quiet shock never fully goes away. <3
When Eddie was a kid, he couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. The holiday season was always so stressful for him because he constantly had to fight the urge to tell people what he’d made for them. In fact, back then, you all frequently received your presents from him weeks before Christmas because, as soon as he would finish making them, he’d get so excited to give them to you that he just couldn’t wait. <3
Now that he’s older, Eddie’s gotten way too good at keeping secrets… for the most part. If someone confides in him about something serious or wholly private in nature, then he’ll take that shit to the grave with him, won’t tell a single soul about it. However, when it comes to less severe secrets, Eddie tends to make an exception, at least for you. Case in point, you know about all of the Hellfire boys’ crushes simply because Eddie cannot keep his big mouth shut. <3
Eddie has this general disposition about him that just makes it so easy to confide in him and many of his customers frequently take advantage of that, venting to him about their shitty parents or opening up to him about whatever’s stressing them out. He always listens to them attentively and without judgment, and, occasionally, he’ll even offer them some genuinely good advice. Truthfully, Eddie gives great advice, the problem is that he often doesn’t follow this advice himself. <3
Eddie writes poetry and, sometimes, he’ll even read his poems to you, but only the ones that he’s really confident in and that, importantly, are not about you. <3
Eddie’s not worried about being stuck in the friend zone, mostly because he’s worried about a second, worse thing: the brother zone. Due to how close your families are and how long you’ve known each other, Eddie worries that you see him as nothing more than a brotherly figure and the thought of that kills him because is it even possible to get out of the brother zone?? The way Eddie sees it, at least the friend zone might, maybe have the potential for future upward mobility. The brother zone, however, might as well be a limitless vat of swiftly drying cement, because once you’re there, you’re there for life. </3
Given how close Eddie and your mom are, she’s told him many times that, if he’s comfortable with it, he can call her mom. However, Eddie refuses to do that. Not because he’s uncomfortable with it, but because he refuses to do anything to further increase his chances of ending up in the goddamn brother zone. </3
He’s irrationally afraid of ladybugs. Whenever one lands near him, he freaks out, much like most people do when wasps start buzzing around them. Unlike most people, he’s not too bothered by wasps, just ladybugs. Fuck ladybugs. <3
Eddie really enjoys baths, but his trailer doesn’t have a tub, so your mom lets him use the one in her trailer while she’s at work. He’d spend all day there if he could. However, he also gets really lonely, so he forces you to sit just outside the bathroom, talking to him through the closed door. <3
He also gets lonely while he poops, but he feels like asking you to sit on the other side of the door to talk to him while he poops is just a tad too intimate, so, while the two of you are still just friends, he’ll make do with reading the ingredients on your shampoo bottle. But if (when) the two of you ever start dating, that shit will be fair game (pun intended?). <3
Eddie likes to play footsie with you whenever you’re sat across from each other at a table. It doesn’t matter if the two of you are eating at your favorite diner, reading books at the public library, or simply sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, sipping on some coffee, the man will initiate it anywhere. This is also to his detriment, though, because it means that he ends up with a lot of awkward boners in public places. Oopsie. <3
He likes letting you do his makeup and paint his nails. Really, the man will take any opportunity for you to dote on him. <3
He secretly loves it when you call him Eddie Bear or Teddy, but he’ll never tell you that. <3
He spends way too much time looking at you, studying and admiring all the features that make up your pretty face. How you fail to notice his incessant staring is beyond him. <3
Eddie very much enjoys clinging onto you like a sloth. Oddly enough, he kinda wishes that he could go eight days without needing to poop or eat, like sloths can, just so he could get to really maximize the amount of time that he gets to hold you. <3
Eddie’s weird, really weird. Adorable and unexpectedly charming, but also weird. He worries that he’s off-putting, but your mom tells him that he’s just eccentric and that the right person will like that about him. He hopes that person is you. <3
He’s kind of obsessed with you; talks about you all the time, craves your attention 24/7, would do anything for you, etc. Just as Eddie used to say when he was little, he loves you long time. <3
Eddie Munson is the biggest hopeless romantic on this side of the Mississippi River. <3
#jitterbug and grub#eddie munson x reader#best friend au#best friend!eddie#best friend!eddie munson#eddie munson#eddie munson thoughts#stranger things#stranger things 4#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson hc#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie stranger things#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson headcanons#stranger things hc#stranger things fluff#stranger things au#stranger things vol 4#pol’s greatest hits
438 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hickoryunionmoto-blog
Untitled
gativo
Gatosmarinos art blog
danithetrvnny
dani
horndog69
Horndog69
ribena59p
the guy