#midnight thoughts things

[scarperseus]

Me whenever I get a thought I shouldn't be having:

"Oh, looks like Hyde has a little opinion he'd like to share with us today,"

[to-be-a-dreamer]

I can’t stand that TikTok trend that’s like “just saw Hadestown and my boyfriend is walking the entire way back to the hotel without looking back at me to prove Orpheus was a chump” because not only do they not get the whole point of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth they also Were Not Paying Attention to the musical they just saw.

Hate people who see WSS as “just a Romeo and Juliet retelling”. Hate people who see Hadestown as “Just an Orpheus and Eurydice retelling”.

Hate people who watch a musical that takes a classic story everyone knows and uses it to explore/critique our modern society and only see it as a funky retelling.

Not Getting The Point of WSS is one thing because it’s more subtle and it can be really easy to just see it as a modern R&J, especially if you don’t really know R&J.

How the fuck do you watch Hadestown and see it as just an O&E retelling? It is one of the most heavy-handed political musicals out there how are so many people missing the point?

Orpheus has to fail. Not because that’s how the Greek myth ends but because that’s the whole point of the message of Hadestown.

Social reform is hard. Changing the world is one of the most challenging things you can try to do. So often we see people try to make a difference in society, to change some kind of injustice in the world. And so often we see those people fail. It can feel so impossible to actually do some good in this fucked up world because we see these people who are smarter and stronger and more qualified than us fail over and over again.

Why do we even keep trying?

Because we have to.

Because one day, someone will try and they’ll succeed.

One day Orpheus won’t turn around.

One day the people of Hadestown will get to see someone escape and they’ll know they can escape too. Only then does the world get to change.

So we have to try. We have to keep singing the sad song, no matter how many times Orpheus turns around, because one day he won’t.

In the Greek myth, Orpheus fails because he loves Eurydice.

In Hadestown, Orpheus fails because we fail.

We try and we fail to make a difference. We try and we fail to change the world for the better. We try to see the world for what it could be and it keeps letting us down.

But we don’t give up. We don’t stop singing.

Hadestown is genuinely one of the best musicals ever. Full stop. This musical is one of the reasons i wish I was smarter because I would love to be able to do an entire thesis on this show and all the themes and messages in it. Some of them are subtle. Some of them aren’t.

It is not just an Orpheus and Eurydice retelling. I am begging people to hear the real message.

Never stop trying to change the world.

One day we’ll make it out of Hadestown.

We just have to keep singing the song.

[becca-e-barnes]

The need that I have for early morning, tender sex with Dbf!bucky that gets a little frantic and really passionate 😵‍💫

Especially if you tend to drift apart in your sleep. It feels so much nicer to curl up against him again the next morning, stealing some of his heat and enjoying the way that he smells so familiar to you now.

You can't help but feel a softness in your chest when he sleepily pulls you closer, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head with his eyes still closed. If nothing else, you feel incredibly safe with your bare chest pressed to his and your limbs tangled together comfortably.

The sunlight has just managed to creep through a gap in between the curtains, illuminating the few grey hairs peppered across your partner's hairline and you swear he's never looked more beautiful.

He's more awake than he'd lead you to believe though. His eyes are barely even open before he's tilting your chin up, making it easier to capture your lips with his.

"Good morning." He mumbles in his deep morning voice when his lips part from yours.

"Hi." You can't help but smile, wiggling your body against the bulge in his underwear. "It's a great morning."

He can't help but roll his eyes at your enthusiasm.

"Didn't I take good enough care of you last night? You still want more." He pretends he's insulted but secretly, he's pretty damn pleased. You want him; plain and simple. You don't dress it up or play it off. Don't we all want to be wanted?

"See, that's the problem. You were too good to me last night. And now. I'm all worked up." You slip kisses to his neck and shoulders in between your sentences, hoping that it really drives your point home.

"You're a handful." Bucky teases, tilting your chin up once more, letting his lips collide with yours before allowing his tongue to do the same. It feels like his hands are all over your body at once, teasing and rubbing and gripping you, getting you even more worked up.

It's not long before he's got your leg hooked up over him and he's slipping his cock into you. The glide is that much easier given that he finished inside you just a few hours ago and the thought of that alone makes you even wetter.

Bucky's low groan as he slides into you is addictive. He's clearly still sensitive but it feels too good for either of you to stop now.

"Such a good girl. You take me so damn well." He's babbling already, eyes rolling back as he presses as deep inside you as possible, giving you a chance to take a breath before he starts to work your body in a way that no one else has ever managed.

[dreamaboutwhathappens]

the are few lyrics that make me sadder than “familiarity breeds contempt” because uhm. no it doesn’t? irritation sometimes maybe. but there is something so sinister about the idea that the more people got to know her, the more they disliked her. and the way she talks about it in bejeweled is accepting that as fact and saying “but here’s why i can still be worthy of your love.” and it’s DEVASTATING.

i mean think about it. the old quilt your grandma made. your stuffed animal you’ve hugged countless times. the relief you feel when you finally get to see the person who understands you best. how nice it is to be in your home town after being away for too long. familiarity doesn’t breed contempt. it breeds peace. but someone made her feel like getting to know her made her seem worse

[delta-piscium]

Steddie | 1.7k words it is (swedish) midsummer so I wrote this based on my favorite old tradition because I can and will make anything steddie, so like glad midsommar (happy midsummer)

“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he follows Eddie to the hallway where he’s frantically putting on his shoes. 

“I almost forgot,” he mutters under his breath not acknowledging Steve at all.

“Forgot what?” 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says a little louder, more adamant.

He does look up at Steve then and almost looks surprised to see him. As if he’d forgotten he was there, as if they haven’t been hanging out for hours. 

“Oh,” he says. “Uhm,” he squints at Steve who waits for him to continue, to explain. He doesn’t.

“Yes?” Steve implores because he would really like an explanation. Eddie had just abruptly stood up halfway through telling Steve about some folklore he’s using in his new campaign, just cut himself off mid-sentence and walked off. Steve doesn’t think it’s especially weird or demanding of him to have questions. 

“Did you have other plans that you just now remembered?” Steve frowns, starting to feel unsure when Eddie still isn’t saying anything. It’s just past eleven at night and Steve doesn’t know what plans those would be but he had showed up unannounced earlier in the evening so it’s not impossible that Eddie had plans that Steve interrupted. 

“No, no, no,” Eddie assures him finally breaking his silence, “it’s- okay it’s a little silly but I read this thing researching and I want to try it.” 

And well, okay then.

Steve raises his eyebrows and waves his hand gesturing for Eddie to go on. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light pink and he resolutely looks somewhere above Steve’s shoulder instead of at him. 

“Midsummer, which is today, is supposed to be this magical night and there are all these traditions and old myths about it.” 

Eddie glances at Steve and he smiles. Tries to show he’s listening and wants to know whatever thing Eddie read about. 

“And well, okay so there’s this one tradition where you pick seven different kinds of flowers before you go to bed and then put them under your pillow and you’re supposed to dream about who you’re gonna spend your life with.” 

Steve blinks, wasn’t expecting that and doesn’t know what to say about it, so, he blinks again. 

“Maybe it’s dumb, but with all we’ve seen magic and folklore don’t seem so far-fetched and,” he shrugs, “I wanna try. And like, it’s close to midnight and I don’t know if that’s a rule but I don’t wanna risk messing it up.”

“It- huh,” Steve frowns slightly and looks at his shoes then back at Eddie. “Yeah alright, let’s do it. Can’t hurt right?” 

His voice is light, like it’s not a big deal and just a fun thing Eddie read about because that’s what it is, isn’t it? But something about it settles deep in Steve’s gut. Makes it feel important in a way he’s not sure he could explain if he tried. Maybe it’s just the fact that Eddie is getting so worked up about the possibility of dreaming about the person he’s gonna spend his life with when Steve maybe a little bit wishes it would be him, but like, only a little. 

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes like he didn’t expect Steve to want to join, like maybe he expected Steve to make fun of him for wanting to do it. But then something seems to switch in him and a slow smile spreads over his face and he gives Steve an exaggerated once over. 

“Looking to find your true love huh, Harrington?” 

“I thought you said it was the person you spend your life with, not the same as true love necessarily.” Steve quips back because technicalities are easier to argue over than answering that question, especially when Eddie is the one asking.

Eddie shrugs. “Different sources say different things, sometimes it’s true love sometimes it’s who you marry.” 

“Well, then I guess we’re both looking to find our true loves?” Steve hedges, drags Eddie down with him if they’re gonna go there. 

A soft look passes Eddie’s face before a responds, voice quieter. “Guess we are, yeah.” 

They pick their flowers in silence, something about the magic being broken if you speak. Walking around the edge of the woods behind Eddie’s trailer a couple of feet apart, every once in a while coming together or crossing paths. 

After, Steve stands in between Eddie’s trailer and his own car. Holding on to his bouquet of seven flowers unsure what to do. He could go home, he should go home, but he doesn’t want to. He did have some beers hours ago and if he was allowed to speak he’d use that as an excuse to not drive and ask Eddie to crash on his couch. Right now he can’t though so he sighs inwardly and turns to his car. 

He makes it about two steps before a hand reaches out and grips him around his free wrist stopping him. When he turns around Eddie is giving him a look that very clearly says ‘stop being stupid’ and jerks his head towards the trailer silently telling Steve to go with him. He doesn’t let go though and uses his grip on Steve to drag him along like he can’t be sure Steve will actually listen and follow. As if Steve would ever not follow Eddie. 

They quickly get ready for bed. And again when Steve walks toward the couch Eddie grabs him and shakes his head. He waves his arms around a bit like that’s supposed to explain anything but Steve isn’t too bothered about an explanation anyways and easily follows Eddie to his bedroom. 

They’ve shared a bed before but always when they’ve been drunk or high so this feels different. Steve is a little glad they can’t speak or he’s sure he’d blurt out something way too revealing about it all. 

He avoids looking at Eddie as he tucks his flowers in under his pillow, knows Eddie is doing the same next to him. Is aware of it only being an old myth from a region halfway across the world but there’s a weight to it. Something real and tangible. 

He expects it to take a while for him to fall asleep like it always does. For him to twist and turn and lay awake until the early morning. For once though, that doesn’t happen. With the weight of Eddie next to him and to the sounds of his soft breathing and small movements, Steve falls asleep.

And he dreams. He dreams of big brown eyes and bright laughter. Of wild hair and warm arms embracing him. He dreams of growing old next to someone and how every wrinkle on their face tells a story of their shared love. 

He wants to stay in the dream forever, desperately tries to hold onto it even as he floats into consciousness. He turns and groans, gets a mess of someone’s hair in his mouth and nose and that’s enough to startle him into full wakefulness. 

Eddie grumbles next to him, clearly also just waking up. Steve looks at him, with his wild hair and his big brown eyes that are slowly blinking open and of course. Of course, it was Eddie he dreamed about.

Their eyes meet and Eddie freezes. Eyes widening as he looks back at Steve. 

“Oh,” he says. 

And yeah, oh.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, unsure of how to bring it up, to ask about it. If he even should? 

He puts on a teasing smile, even though he feels like goo inside, but making it lighthearted is all he can think of because what if he’s taking this whole thing way too seriously? Jumping to conclusions? 

“Dream of anyone?” 

Eddie nods and looks away, “I did.” He says it simply, voice careful. 

And maybe it isn’t just Steve.

“Who?” He asks, dropping the teasing tone. 

Eddie swallows and looks back at Steve. “The person I wanted to dream of,” he says and it’s not really an answer but he’s looking at Steve so intently he thinks it still might be. 

He thinks about Eddie’s quiet but delighted surprise at Steve wanting to join him yesterday. About Eddie dragging him first into his trailer and then into his bed. How they’re so close on Steve’s side of the bed and Eddie must have drifted towards him in his sleep.

He bites his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide, there’s still a chance he’s misinterpreting things, “yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And who would that be?” Steve asks, leaning in even closer until he feels Eddie’s small puffs of breath across his face. 

“You,” Eddie whispers but Steve hears it clearly. 

He takes a moment to bask in it, to let it wash over him before he responds.

“That’s good,” Steve tells him eventually and Eddie’s eyes are so wide and open, and so pretty, “because I dreamt of you.” 

He knows it’s cheesy so he doesn’t give Eddie time to respond, just leans in and closes the remaining gap between them. Slots their lips together. Eddie gasps into the kiss, grabs Steve by the hair, and pulls him in. Makes all these cute noises that make Steve want and want and want. 

He shifts, goes to put his leg in between Eddie’s to move on top of him and get a better angle. But he only gets halfway before Eddie grabs his hips and twists them around. Pushes Steve flat on his back and straddles him. 

He grins down at Steve. 

“You think the Scandinavian magic worked or was it just dream psychology and wishful thinking?” 

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, way too earnestly. But like, they’ve just spent this whole time doing some true love magic so he thinks it’s fine, “got what I wanted.” 

“It’s forever though,” Eddie points out, bending down to bite at Steve’s jaw, “if we believe the old Norse people.” 

Steve hears the question there, thinks this might be Eddie’s way of asking what this means to Steve. His way of telling Steve this isn’t just a hookup for him.

“God yeah,” Steve exhales, “I fucking hope so.” 

He feels Eddie smile into his neck and grabs his hair, uses it to pull him back and steer him into another kiss. 

[mxmorbidmidnight]

I cannot tell if it is fear or disgust in which the people look upon me. No matter. Both scarcely quothed from a mighty chest, nor perceived as twice the side of summer fruit. All is same to calloused shapeshifter ears, never will they strike and make bleed a shapeshifter hide. I am far too busy wrangling my shapeshifter spine to concern myself with worship at the feet of those who wrinkle their noses and point.

[vampyama]

a yuu that is a medieval lady and a mother (highly inspired by catelyn stark)

mother!yuu that sees poor riddle rosehearts, the boy without a proper mother, and immediately starts to treat him as she treats her own sons — she sits with him, talks with him about his studies, have tea parties with him, help him with his housewarden chores and in general gives him lots of attention. poor riddle is in a mix of satisfaction for finally having a mom, anxiety bc he wants to make mother!yuu proud of him, and confusion bc he doesn't want to betray his biological mom. in the end, he doesn't know what to do, but oh boy he does sparkle even more with a mother helping and guiding him. she teaches him how to be more gentle but still strict, which is a relief to well everyone

mother!yuu that sees lazy leona and says oh seven hells NO. HELL NO. and tries to cheer him up, specially when she finds out about the fact that he is a prince — she says, hey yeah leona yk ppl die if ur brother dies u're going to be prince regent and you need connections with other nobles not only bc of the possibility of being prince regent but you're MATERIAL OF BECOMING A HIGH LORD you'll eventually need a good marriage contract and for that you need contact with the other lords — besides, as a second born is your duty to make connections and contracts for the crown so yeah START WORKING. NOW PLEASE sweetling ^ _ ^. in general, her words give him an ego boost bc finally someone believes in his prince duties, believes that he isn't just a second born (actually for royalty that does not make sense there is a reason for old nobles having sm kids they want to make sure they have an bloodline heir) and she actually teaches him how to behave like a prince !!! al sorts of political training for leona ! and he's actually REALLY good at being a political figure!! mother!yuu is really proud of her princeling .

[moo-blogging]

It's always the small, casual-intimate things that make your heart float. Like holding hands on a busy street, sneaking kisses in quiet alleys, and sharing a cup of whatever you bought from the food truck.

Levi is always so sweet and lovely. Although his palms are rough, his touches are always soft and gentle. The way his fingers intertwine with yours, his palm rubbing on yours with every movement gives you so much warmth. He would rub his thumb on the back of your palm when you stand side by side waiting for the light to turn green. You would sneak a peak at each other like high school lovers' fiest dates and share a grin like old couples who had been married for decades.

And the way he would turn his head slightly to see if anyone's behind you before he grabs your chin and kisses your lips hard. Levi would pull you in by your waist for a full experience. Laughter escapes from your throats before Levi pulls away and pecks on your lips again before you continue you way to somewhere.

And when the snow falls, you would queue up for a hot cup of something from a food truck. Sharing a hot cup of something with Levi at the side of the road while watching the world slowly turns white feels like watching a movie. When you're sipping the drink, Levi would give you his scarf if you didn't have one and he has. He would make the scarf into a hood, covering your hair and your ears. Levi would blush in the snow. He has such pretty porcelain complexion.

"Can we have a snow fight today?" You might ask.

"No," Levi would say, "we are not 6 anymore."

"So we're 7 now?" You would tease him.

Levi would pull you by the hand, rubbing your fingers as he says, "you would lose in the fight."

You kiss his reddened cheek. "Would I lose now?"

Levi exhales, "you're the champion."

He really loves you.

[wardingshout]

Family for day 6 of SpeSilverWeek! Edition uuh found biological and crime I guess...

[bluechocowitz]

@hheisa's echo flower sans is v..! v short cool!!

[debatablyspicydurian]

I know the full arsenal update is out and hype for that but I just found the gutterman's poem in 7-2 and I HAVE to type about it because its night where I am and I cant wake up my friends to rant about Ultrakill.

Anyway, absolutely indescribable how we have the thoughts of a machine just laid bear in a secret for the first and maybe last time. The fact that a machine made for merciless slaughter could not only feel sadness for the person powering it but also WRITE a POEM? A machine made art??? The knowledge that they understand how cruel it is to make a human a blood battery, recognize it as torture, but also feel gratitude for the life they've been given?? It was known that machines had a sense of aesthetic from Swordsmachine and Mindflayer's entries but. Goddamn. The gutterman refers to the human as their mother and it states it CRIED when it crushed her skull as it hoped it would redeem its life.

Also the excerpt, "I know I know you would hate me so, and mother of me, I do too." Does this mean the Gutterman hated itself as much as the human? Did it hate the human instead along with the feelings of love and gratitude? Probably the former. Gutterman angst is so in.

V2's mannerisms and Swordsmachine's data entry are intresting, but a gutterman's eulogy for its prisoner and its attempt at redemption is another level. Actual machine thought process recorded!! Sapient lifeform that knows only war and death! The fact that the gutterman crushing the human's skull seemed to be out of mercy. Ough.

Noone has to interact I havent proof read this I am just RANTING this is CRAZY HAKITA HOW COULD YOU AND THE TEAM DO THIS

[wollemi-whump]

i love enemy caretakers. people who shouldnt be helping the injured person but their morals just wont let them stand by. a soldier patching up an opposing soldier even knowing it might put their own life at risk. a criminal talking down a gang leader to keep a detective from being killed or leaving them an anonymous tip to a dangerous situation. a vigilante keeping the person who wants to arrest them alive even if it increases the chance they get arrested. theres just so many great versions of enemy caretakers!!

[tyrasanege]

The live action Ninjago Movie may destroy some headcanons.

[inked-up-gentleman]

It's wear my flannel shirts and lay on me season

[wentzlogs]

doctor said one but i’m taking four

[aerequets]

i very much appreciate how Yor, the strongest character, is so feminine

she’s obviously the physically strongest, and arguably the most mentally and/or emotionally strong. what i really appreciate is that this strength and her femininity are complements, instead of the two being treated as mutually exclusive like in many other media.

yor is soft spoken and gentle and kind to others. she feels emotions strongly and cries in front of others and shows her happiness. she has a natural inclination to take care of others. she is good with children, she is great at housekeeping. she may not be good at cooking but by gosh she tries; she wants to get better. she assumes the best in others and finds other women pretty and kind and admires them. she’s family oriented. 

yor is also insanely strong. she’s gone through extensive physical training since childhood, has multiple scars, has dealt with all kinds of people. she can kick a moving car, incapacitate a whole cow, take down a whole fleet of assassins, etc, etc. the list goes on. but despite all this and all that she’s been through, she didn’t become a tough, sardonic, mean-lean-killing-machine kind of character.

 what i’ve noticed in a lot of media is that there seems to be this kind of tradeoff that people think needs to happen in order for a female character to get “truly strong”. basically feminine = weak and masculine = strong. the character cries? not anymore she will never crack that poker face ever! the character cares for others? psh what no, care for yourself she’s not your maid. homemaking skills? useless, all she needs is the strength of her Fists and Harsh Words. she’s not like other vapid girls, she actually cares about the Real Important Fight which, undoubtedly, is also male-dominated. 

of course, all of this is set up as an opportunity for the male love interest to come in and “break down her walls” because women are just waiting for the right man to change them, but i digress.

why? why are the things that are inherently feminine deemed as inferior? 

a good example i can think of is cinderella, or to be more specific, an opinion about cinderella that was popular (and may still be, i dont know tbh): she is weak for needing a prince to save her. 

lets break this down: this girl gets emotionally, phyiscally, and mentally abused from her childhood into young adulthood by the people who are supposed to care for her. despite all this, she remains kind towards others and attentive in what she does. she seizes what she believes could be her one and only chance at freedom, however fleeting, and ends up catching the attention of the person who is ultimately able to pull her out of her situation.

yes, she didn’t bust herself out of the house and shank the stepfam with her glass shoe. but does this mean she is weak? is that kind of emotional resilience within someone after years of abuse what can truly be categorized as weak? 

anyways, all this is to say that yor is built up as the strong one in multiple ways, and the narrative doesn’t act like her nonmasculine qualities are somehow reductive or lesser, and i very much appreciate how rich her character is. i like so many things about this series man im just