The last time I played Puck, the director was a huge freak about not letting us wear shoes on stage because it would "ruin the look", but we all kept eating shit, and instead of just letting us wear skintone dance shoes or something with grip, motherfucker poured Pepsi on the floor so it'd be sticky and we had to schlorp around. I fucking hate you, David.

Why couldn't this have been a one time I dreamt

I would just quit. Fuck people like that. It's easy to walk away

No it's not. Didn't you read the post? There was dried Pepsi everywhere.

accidentally sent a friend 1kg of starch for her birthday

Imagine being the gays at a pride event in 2004 living their lives when someone grabs the microphone and announces to the room that Ronald Reagan was pronounced dead. Can you even imagine the hype, the celebration, the pure elation

This is the Pride Month that It will happen. I feel it in my gay bones

I suppose most people are more familiar with pet dogs than with falconry and therefore calling a dehumanized mech pilot a "hound" is more immediately evocative than calling it a "hawk," but you gotta admit the vibe of the handler as falconer and the pilots as their birds of prey absolutely slaps. If anyone ever does something like mechsploitation but with scifi fighter jets instead of giant robots, pleeeease call the pilots hawks

there should be a pill you can take one time that will shrivel up your uterus and abort it through one last horrible period

people on here are always saying “we NEED a story where the art of storytelling is abandoned” like ugh literary devices are soo annoying like that wouldn’t happen in real life that only happened to further the story (why is there story in my story) why would orpheus turn around when he was explicitly told not to why would icarus fly so close to the sun romeo&juliet catcher in the rye why are they so earnest why pour your heart and soul into anything why bother why cant all art be quippy logical monotony like my marvel movies there’s a void in my heart bc i refused to fill it and the curtains were blue

“i hate poetry its so pretentious” but then you reblog a quote or a throwaway line and say “why does this go so hard” you are desperate for poetry you are starved for it and u dont even realise you’re hungry