More serious than a hefty bag full of rottweilers

theres this guy called assad zaman and, well... (suddenly gets choked up) (makes cut motion to the camera and removes mic pack)

Is this Interview with the Vampire?

...technically, yes.

ah. a nuanced story that allows for imperfect victims and portrays the confusing and contradictory nature of being human – particularly in a context that explores abuse, harassment and trauma. i wonder what people on the internet make of it... oh. oh no. oh no no no no no

I like when people like a character so way too much that it transcends even self shipping or kinning and becomes more of a patron saint that you pray to type of deal

Ghosts aren't real, it was probably just the house settling that gave you that blowjob

my controversial opinion is I don’t think Zuko was confused by “my first girlfriend turned into the moon”

he was there during siege of the North. he infiltrated the spirit oasis. he has an uncle who studies spirits and the spirit world. he watched the sky go dark then the moon suddenly reappear like everyone else in the entire world did. and most importantly he watched zhao get eaten by a giant godzilla fish spirit.

his entire life since he saw that beam of blue-white light in the south pole has been ‘this day has already been so goddamn weird’

The only really new information was that that was Sokka’s girlfriend

Also, Iroh was there? He literally watched Sokka make out with the moon spirit. And you want to tell me that a romantic sap like him would not have immediately told Zuko about this romantic tragedy? Please, Zuko has known about this for ages, he just knows that this is not an acceptable situation in which to say “yeah, I know.”

[image: tags by samwisethebold: #it’s not that he doesn’t get what sokka means #it’s that how on earth do you respond to that]

When you put it like that, this is actually a legendary display of tact on Zuko’s part

What? WHAT? It's morning! I lost time, things got a little heated—With a boy. Things got HEATED with a BOY! I was at home picking lint off the sofa. I said to join us. The night's gone, the room's soiled and once again, I'm here, with mop and mindlessness to clean it up! So the room got dirty. So what? I'll clean it up—NO! I clean it up! YOU make the mess, and I clean it up. Mark it on the calendar, align it with Ursa Major; Louis' tri-annual FUCK OFF AND FIND ME with apologies to follow. I'm sorry. To seek comfort in the arms of lowlifes, and unfortunates, and broken children, fine—Oh, "fine." Fine. That doesn't sound like fine—BUT REVEALING OUR NATURE TO A REPORTER you met at a bar 10 hours ago! What if it was published? I was having some fun! We don't have enough to fear from Paris? I was in the middle of ending things when you—No, you'd have passed out on the floor next to him, Louis. Out on your feet from the drugs you stuffed him with! Oh, this is boring! You're boring! YOU ARE SO BORING! And here come the drugs; COLORLESS! Up the fangs, FLAVORLESS! Down the throat, Dull. Into the heart, Dull. And off the fingers, feet, and wallowing brain! Dull nights, dull weeks, dull months, dull as FUCK! Suffocation! By the world's softest, BEIGEST pillow. The 10 hours I spent with that boy were more EXCITING, more FASCINATING, than DECADES with YOU! Oh, there it is. The half-blank, half-apocalyptic look, but what does it mean tonight? Huh? Does he wanna lick my boots, or chop my hands off? Is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight? Huh? Okay. Okay, perhaps. But am I as BORING as the BLATHER committed onto the FERRIC TAPES of your FASCINATING boy? "Oh! It's so—it's so hard to be me!" "Picking LINT off the SOFA?" "It's so hard to kill humans! I can feel their feelings as I drain them, Louis de Pointe du Lac—" There he goes again, coming home. "It's so hard being me!" You sat on your hands, and put your ears to the wind. "Everyone I know wrongs me!" Okay, okay, let's wake the boy up and let's try you. "I'm the vampire Armand and my daddy vampire groomed me into a little BITCH!" "My brother, he tossed himself off a roof. MY SISTER! She buried me alive!" "But the vampires that murdered my daddy made me pretend I didn't have a DICK for 240 years!" "My daughter was my sister was my throw pillow, when he wouldn't look at me kindly. Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat—" I talked shit about him the whole time! So what—THE NAME! THE NAME; UNUTTERED IN OUR HOME FOR 23 YEARS SAID OVER AND OVER AGAIN UNTIL IT WAS POUNDING IN MY BRAIN LIKE A HAMMER. Our problems aren't about HIM! And you threw HER name around just for cover but it always circled back to him. I loved her—BUT SHE DIDN'T LOVE YOU. Not like he did, not like I have. I know. I KNOW! Yes! I know! Thank you for saying it. It's all creeping back. Paris... And the, uh, what, what, what? What the—it's—all of it, coming back. There's, uh, Paris. Paris—hey, can you hear that? Can you hear that, hm? Can you hear her? Is she calling me?