#i hated this when i made it but honestly im over it

[icallhimjoey]

Not sure if you've done this but it fits the general mood of the fandom lately: I want grovel-y Joe. Knows he really fucked up but he's a guy so he doesn't know how to fix it so he just throws anything at the wall to see what sticks. And honestly we're not sure if we'll forgive him but we're definitely sticking around to see how far he's willing to go.

(yes I am in therapy 🤣)

okay im using this request to fix whatever that bullshit was that i wrote before this - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 3.8K

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I'll Let The Sun Decide

Joe realises it in the morning. Feels like the biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Correction: the biggest fucking idiot on the moon.

He watches you walk out of his bedroom after leaving a perfect cup of coffee, exactly how he likes it, on his bedside table and everything about that makes his heart ache.

After the way he behaved last night, he knows he doesn't deserve a sweet gesture from the girl who looks like she only managed to sleep for about two hours.

You look exhausted.

He only catches a glimpse of you, and a few seconds later he can hear the coffee machine go again. You're making a coffee for yourself after making him one, and Joe can't help but groan his face into his pillow.

Fuck.

He didn't reach out for you in the night.

Your one fucking rule.

He vaguely remembers going, "Hmm?" after he raised his head off his pillow in a jolt.

"Just me." You'd whispered, nothing malicious hidden in your voice, because it was after midnight and it wasn't the time to continue whatever you'd started earlier that evening.

He should've reached over then.

He hadn't. Not even a knee to your thigh, or a toe to your foot.

Nothing.

He should've been happy you'd come back to his flat instead of going to your own. You could've so easily decided to avoid him for a bit, but you didn't. You said you'd come back, and then you did, and, fuck.

He hadn't reached out.

He hadn't even read the texts you'd sent. Left you with a bunch of grey ticks.

Well.

He had read them, but only in the notification bar.

He'd seen the messages about you making it to the office safely. Of how Charlotte was there too - you'd do the work together and you'd be done much faster that way. A little later of how you'd just be another hour, and of how you'd let him know when you'd leave.

He wanted you to feel bad about choosing your work over him, so he withheld the coloured ticks and had felt real fucking smug over it. It was sickening how right he'd felt about his actions in the moment. Every petty little thing justified, just because you'd hurt his feelings.

You'd climbed into bed after he had already fallen asleep, and the feeling of movement next to him pulled him from his slumber. And then, instead of reaching over like he should have done, he had sighed all heavily, like he was really fucking annoyed that you'd woken him up as you got comfortable under his covers. He'd rolled over and ignored you. Turned his back and festered in his own anger like a moody teenager because he truly believed you deserved it.

What a fucking loser.

Didn't touch you all night.

The realisation slaps him in the face unexpectedly, and your early-morning kind gesture is what flips the entire script. What a fucking loser of a boyfriend.

You've made the deadline.

Joe sees it when he opens his messages after taking a perfect sip of hot coffee, and it's weird how he feels awful about himself and proud of you at the same time.

He didn't need to let the world burn over such a tiny inconvenience.

Joe hates the moon.

Longs for the sun.

The moon is cold and dark and he's all alone up there, only warmed by the light the sun will bring him.

The sun. Or, the messy-haired girl with tired eyes in soft clothes too big for her body who brought him a hot cup of coffee before she even made one for herself. Either or. Same thing.

Joe stares at your messages in silence, gives you the coloured ticks he should've given you last night, and feels heavy guilt find home in the pit of his stomach.

You finished all the work in time. Probably have done a real good job at it too. Did it at the office, away from Joe's bad temper, and managed to actually focus and forget about how he told you to fuck off when you were already on your way out anyway.

What a dick-move.

Fragile ego syndrome, you'd guessed then.

That dick-move is what had you second-guessing going back over to Joe's for a while. Maybe going back to your own flat was the smarter idea. Avoid the confrontation and just text him the next day, after he'd cooled off a bit.

Maybe he'd actually read those then.

Another dick-move.

Joe could be so annoying sometimes, but it was easy to read him and you knew that just a little consideration of your time would fix whatever this silly issue was. With that in mind, you'd made your way back over to his.

You knew his dick-moves only meant he was going to feel bad about himself come tomorrow morning.

And you were right.

Besides an annoyed sigh and a soft grumble, you didn't get much else from him when you got into bed.

That was fine.

Again, you didn't think it was the right time to continue a fight anyway.

But the morning brought something new.

You woke up before Joe did and it took a few seconds for you to remember. To realise your prediction was right. Joe hasn't reached out in the night. No silent I still love you touch under the covers for you.

And it stings.

Could make you cry if you thought about it long enough.

Joe's stayed on his side of the bed, facing away from you, and you tell yourself that at least you've come back to his flat like you said you would. You finished the work you had to finish, and did the right thing by returning.

But then, you concluded, you also haven't reached out to him at all, and immediately felt bad.

Joe can be so annoying sometimes, but you do still love him, and a warm palm to a shoulder blade could've at least let him know.

It would've made you the bigger person.

Which, you still were. You came back, didn't you? But Joe was being an absolute child and you didn't want to sink down to his level.

You should've reached over. Should've touched him. You have no good excuse for not following the one rule you came up with after your first real argument, and now you feel bad.

Shit.

The coffee is to make up for it. At least a little. To say, I'm sorry I didn't reach out, here's me doing that now.

"Morning," you whispered when you saw him stir and open a squinty, confused eye.

You didn't wait for a reply. Just left the coffee there and walked back to go and make yourself one too.

Joe watched you leave and the moon came crashing down.

He knows what the coffee means.

He's read your messages, can hear you make breakfast in his kitchen and decides he needs to reach out too. With his coffee in hand, he gets up and makes his way over to his living area where he finds you rubbing your fist into an eye through a yawn, with a carton of eggs in the other hand.

"Morning," he croaks, and sees how it's only just starting to get light outside, it's so early still.

It feels a little weird and embarrassing to speak to you right now. To remember how you'd been in this same room just a few hours ago, and he'd told you to fuck off.

Fuck off, he'd said. To his girlfriend. Had meant it with his whole chest too. What a fucking idiot.

You turn your head to give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and ask, "Do you want some eggs?"

The moon can die.

He doesn't want the moon.

The moon is too far from the sun. He wants you closer and happy and well-rested and for your smile to overtake your whole lovely beautiful face when you see him and he hasn't got the faintest clue where to even start to fix it.

He doesn't know how to turn all the feelings in his chest into words to convey how sorry he feels. Has no idea what to say. Has no idea how you'll react to a verbal apology either.

But you look so soft, shoulders slouched, the scrunched up bit of fabric that held your hair up and out of your face as you slept about to slip out. And, even though he can tell it's not a real smile, you're still giving him a kind face. You're being civil.

You've made him a coffee how he likes it and just offered to make him some eggs and, Jesus, he's just the most awful person ever, isn't he?

The overwhelming need to wrap himself around all of you takes over.

Joe leaves his coffee on the side and steps closer to attach himself to your back. You accept it, and he can feel how you let your head rest against the side of his as he hugs you, arms tight around your waist.

He's glad that you let him.

But he also feels the defeat there.

The, Joe what the fuck, that's waiting to slip out of your mouth. Maybe it's why you're keeping things surface level. No time or energy to get into an actual conversation right now. Just breakfast eggs and perfect coffee.

That's okay.

Joe doesn't know what to say anyway, and he'd love some eggs, actually.

"I'd love some, but," Joe kisses the side of your face, does it quick so he doesn't have to feel you pull away from it, and then gently moves you aside. "Let me."

A first attempt at fixing it.

Joe finishes breakfast whilst you go for the quickest shower of your life. When you turn the water off he asks what time you need to leave from the kitchen. His eyes find your coffee that's going cold, and he thinks it's so stupid that you have to be back at work so soon.

This time he doesn't feel sorry for himself, though. This time he feels sorry for you.

It's a big difference.

You've only just left the office, Joe thinks. And sure, sometimes he makes long hours and feels like he lives on set, but you're in an office.

He knows that's different.

Worse.

You've got to go and present all the things you've finished and he knows you like it just as much as he does. That being: not at all. There's no use in getting angry at you.

He sees that now.

You're just as much at fault for not being able to go out with him last night as he is. That being: not at all.

Joe watches you take a few hurried mouthfuls of egg on toast, and he wants to tell you sorry before you leave.

He doesn't.

Isn't sure how, and feels like a literal child because, Jesus Christ, they're just words.

But you smile at him, even though it's only small. And you let him kiss your cheek on your way out. And when you've left, it's not even eight o'clock, which is too fucking early, and he decides he needs to give you more quiet I love yous that he didn't give you under the covers in the night the way he should've done.

You get flowers delivered to the office that afternoon.

It's a large bunch, beautiful colours, and you can't lie; it absolutely makes you smile. You can tell it's expensive, and you know he's paid extra for the same day delivery, but... he didn't reach for you last night, and you didn't reach for him either, and whenever you think of Joe, that's all that comes to mind.

You'd seen him turn to stone.

So cold and careless.

Had seen in his face how he didn't give a single shit about how inconsiderate he was being.

A bunch of flowers isn't going to magically make that visual go away, but it's nice that he' tried's trying, and you try to hold onto that.

When you leave the office that day, you text Joe that you're headed to your own flat because there's food in your fridge that needs eating before it goes off, and your dishwasher is half filled with dirty dishes that have been in there for about a week already, so you kind of need to go turn it on, and there's probably also a load of laundry you could do, plus a quick pass of your floors with a vacuum, maybe.

Joe doesn't get to read it for a few hours. Busy day on set. When he eventually does, sort of annoyed that you had to wait for his coloured ticks again, he texts back, "Yours?"

And you text back so quickly, it makes his guilt grow.

"don't forget your key, im gonna lie down "

Perfect, Joe thinks. He'll sneak in and maybe get some of your shit sorted whilst you kip on your sofa.

But when he walks in, you're not on the sofa. You're already in bed, and that's sort of heartbreaking, because it's so early, and Joe finds the food that's about to go off uneaten in your fridge still. Finds the dishwasher still half filled, smelling rank, dirty dishes growing mould in there. He also sees the full hamper that needs sorting and washing, and, how had he even had the gall to assume that you could just make time for him at a moment's notice when you hadn't even been able to take care of any of this?

Joe starts the dishwasher.

Sorts your dirty laundry and starts a dark wash.

Cooks the food that's about to go off and places it in plastic tubs to have at another time.

Notices you've not taken the flowers that he had express delivered home and tries not let that affect him, but fails.

You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The beeping of the dishwasher, or the clanging of plates as Joe places the clean ones back into their cupboards. When Joe comes to find you, you're on your side, facing away from the door, but Joe can see you're awake by the light from your phone that silhouettes you.

"You're awake," Joe says, voice surprised, and it makes you turn to look over your shoulder.

"Hey," you say softly, and Joe's eyebrows knit together automatically at how sad you sound.

"Thanks for the flowers," you turn in bed to let Joe kiss you as he bends over to place a small one to your forehead. "They got delivered during my presentation."

"Was it embarrassing?" Joe asks, sitting down next to you, one arm either side of you as he leans over. Kisses you again, but on your mouth this time.

"Very. Vanessa just barged in with them."

"Did you like them?"

"Hmm," you nod and give a little smile. Joe's glad for it, but he feels there's a distance there still. You're keeping your hands to yourself, even though his bare arms are right there.

"I um," Joe starts, and wants to start listing all the things he's done. Wants to tell you how he's been sweet, and kind, like you were with him this morning, and he wants those things to be the silent I love yous he should've given you last night.

But then he changes his mind and says, "Did the, um... did the presentation go okay?"

You nod, because it did go really well, actually. Thank fuck. But Joe doesn't ask any more questions about it, and he seems to hesitate to even speak at all. Seems to want to say something that he's clearly not saying. Afraid to say the wrong thing, maybe. You wonder if there's a sincere I'm sorry hiding in there somewhere.

"You seem tired..." he skirts around the issue, and it's disappointing, but not surprising.

"I am tired."

Then Joe looks at the empty space in your bed for a moment and gets up. Starts undressing. Leaves his clothes in a neat pile on your dresser and goes to brush his teeth.

When Joe looks at himself in the mirror, he frowns.

Fucking idiot.

Look at that coward.

He rests both hands on the sink, hangs into his shoulders, breathes through flared nostrils, and feels like a failure. You must think he is one too.

He didn't reach over last night.

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, he steps back into your bedroom and inhales a deep breath through his nose before he mumbles a barely audible and a very foamy, "I shouldn't have..."

He hears himself, grumbles low in this throat and turns on his heel, spits the toothpaste out and comes back.

Starts again.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Last night. I was being a dick, I shouldn't have done– well, anything, really. I was being mean just to be mean, I'm–"

"Joe," you interrupt, your voice soft.

You didn't reach out either.

"No," Joe argues, moves to sit back down next to you, arms back either side of you, hands pressing into the mattress. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I just," Joe sighs. Frowns. Doesn't know what to say.

What can he say to make you run a hand up one of his forearms?

"I didn't..." he tries once more, but falters again. Drops his head and knows he can't cry because he is not the person he's hurt.

He didn't reach over last night.

"Hey. I didn't either."

You read between the lines, even though your vision goes blurry with tears. You can hear the words Joe isn't saying and can read the thoughts he's not communicating. Joe's face always tells you a million things. You wonder if he's aware how easy he is to read.

You also wonder if he's aware that it's not going to be enough.

Joe swipes a thumb across your temple, close to your eye, and catches a tear that was about to slide into your hair.

He swallows thickly. Tries to swallow down whatever's hurting his throat.

"I don't want to live on the moon..." he then mutters, regretting how he set the world on fire. He wants to live on planet earth, even though it's all grey and black ashes now. He'll plant flowers there. Will feed them water, and will politely ask the sun let them grow.

Will ask you.

You're the sun.

You get to decide.

You don't fully understand what Joe means, because it sounds ridiculous, actors and their theatrics, but you tell him you don't want to live on the moon either and he huffs a laugh at how absurd that sounds coming from your straight face that's pretending it's not actively crying.

You're the sun.

Of course you don't want to live on the moon, silly.

"Your priority–" you start, breath hitching, but Joe is quick to interrupt.

"You. You. Us. I'm... it's us. I promise, it's us..." Joe sighs again, seemingly upset at remembering his own behaviour.

"Saying that is easy, though," you start, finally letting your fingers slowly wrap around one of his arms.

A touch.

It's enough to make Joe's whole face crumble.

He ducks down. Lets his arms find your shoulders to pull you up a little so he can hug you properly, both arms wrapped tightly around your frame, his face hidden into your neck, and you know Joe's only crying because of your fingertips touching his wrist. The smallest things can get him sometimes – so dramatic.

But you continue, "I believe that you believe that your priority is us, but when you're stomping around your kitchen, blaming me for shit I have no controll over, telling me that it's my fault that I–"

"No," Joe mumbles into your skin, and pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours. "No."

And you give his forehead a slight push with yours and you want to say, yes.

Yes that's what you were doing.

Yes that's what happened.

Yes you got caught up in all of your own feelings and forgot that I have a whole set of my own.

But then Joe whispers, "I'm sorry." and you can't help but go absolutely lax in his hold.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I love you, I'm sorry." he whispers his apologies against your mouth through heavy breaths because he's doing his best to not cry, but he's failing, because then he feels you shake with a sob, and, fuck that, he'll banish himself to the moon, actually.

He'll live up there no matter how miserable it is, and he'll take whatever sunlight he can get, and he'll be thankful for the rays you'll allow to even reach him at all.

"You didn't t-touch–" you stutter, and immediately feel Joe squeeze you tighter.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so sorry." Joe whispers right into your ear. Keeps repeating it, over and over and over.

Your one rule.

He should've never broken it.

It's good to hear the words, the I'm sorrys tumbling over his lips, and you'll accept them for now. But actions speak louder than words, and you know that there will probably be a time where the way the world treats Joe will make his head grow to twice its size again. He'll do and say similar shit. Won't want to meet you halfway, but will demand that you make the trek all the way over to him, won't care what the ground will look like, and won't care if you're wearing shoes for it or not.

Joe doesn't know it right now, but you can see into the future and know it will happen again.

And when it does, you'll grow a little colder.

Let some of your rays die out.

"Here. Lay back." Joe says after holding you for a while, and when your head finds your pillow again, Joe curls around and uses every body part of his to touch yours under the covers.

Every inch of skin touching yours is a big fat quiet I love you that he'll repeatedly tell you all night. He's not gonna let go.

He knows he's on the moon still. Up there, all alone. Cold. In the dark.

He said he's sorry, but knows it's not enough.

Wants off, but is smart enough to not set foot somewhere he's not allowed yet.

He has said that he's sorry, and now he needs to wait for the sun.

Wait for you.

And he'll touch you under the covers until you're ready.

Whispers the promises into your hair as you fall asleep.

You get to decide.

He'll let the sun decide.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[starbunii]

I'm not sure if you're still doing requests, so if you aren't please just ignore this 😓

If you are tho, could I request Venti, Wanderer, Feminet, and Lyney (idk your character limit so if that's too many please just get rid of whichever you want) with a reader who hates PDA. Not like the reader necessarily minds others doing it, they just don't like being a part of it. Maybe reader had a past relationship where their partner took it too far all the time and made them uncomfortable frequently so reader kind of shuts down when one of the characters try it.

(I really love your wrighting btw! Not even exaggerating, you're my number 1 favorite author! I've never requested anything so I'm sorry if I did this wrong or rudely!)

- <3

# . public display of annoyance 𓂃 ♥︎

𝜗𝜚 ┈ venti, wanderer, freminet, lyney x reader (seperate) ! ｡

notes: honestly i really do love this request!! i can kind of relate to it, since i kind of hate being touched lol. also im super excited to be writing for fremi for the first time; i really do love him a lot!! thank you for being so sweet anon <3

headcanons ノ fluffノgn! reader ノcanon universe

second person pov !! please enjoy! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

– ♡ –

venti

as usual, this man is 75% pout. he just wants to hold you and kiss you and pinch your wittle cheeks!!!!

when you don't respond, he's incredibly confused. that confusion turns into concern once he sees your face

he's immediately whisking you somewhere a bit more hidden, making sure you're all right. Safe to say, he won't try any PDA for a while; not until you're comfortable, at least

wanderer

Honestly, I'm not even sure he would really partake in PDA. I think he would have to be in the mood for it; which he rarely is

However, I don't think he would try to do anything without asking first. He's weird about touch too

He'd try to hold your hand, before quickly pulling away out of sheer awkwardness. He'd offer you a small chuckle and a tiny smile, before continuing to walk by your side

freminet

He wants to hold you and kiss you all over and squeeze you until you pop, but in front of people...? no. he's far too reserved for that

Essentially, he's not too fond of PDA either. He's not used to being touched aside from the occasional pat on the shoulder; and even that's just used in a professional context

He'd attempt to hold you more in private, but even that would take him a minute to get used to. he's more adjusted to being close with/observing otters and fish... you are very clearly not an otter or a fish..

lyney

unlike his brother, lyney is all over you all the time. yes, even in public

of course, he tones it down once he realizes it's not exactly your cup of tea, but it does not stop him from bragging about you every chance he gets. he doesn't have to be holding you to show you off

you're still his show stopper regardless. he'll love up on you in private, and then very loudly brag about you to anyone who dares to have ears

starbunii 2024 — all rights reserved. do not redistribute or translate to any other platforms

[stormyelliotwritez]

walk with me…

ftm reader who has been in love with logan for years but he thinks logan is straight and also logan like wont stop being in love with jean and is absolutely OBLIVIOUS that r likes him.. (literally all the other x men know) and honestly this can be like super angsty or just silly idc whatever the vibe u best think works

im gonna somehow go with mostly angst coz thats my fav so here goes

tw for gender dysphoria related to wanting to fit logan’s so called type

BUT HE’S STRAIGHT?

Logan was staring at Jean again. This was like the fifth time just this staff meeting. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. Maybe Charles would let you go lay down if you faked a fever but maybe he’d do the whole psychic thing and realize you were fine.

You sat through the rest of the meeting and then left quickly, feeling like a loser. It’s been years and he still hasn’t noticed you. He’s always staring at Jean who’s literally been in love with Scott since they met. Why won’t he stare at you? How the fuck is he straight? But alas, he is.

You walked to your room, tugging at your shirt and wishing it would fit better. Maybe he’d have noticed you if you weren’t a boy, if you’d stayed what you’d been born as. Maybe if you were still her, he’d think you were cute. Maybe he’d look at you how he looked at Jean.

You slammed your door shut and clambered onto your bed, curling up into a ball. You stayed there, just thinking, until eventually you fell asleep.

In the morning, you got up and after showering and getting dressed, you threw on the jacket you’d stolen from Logan a few months ago, the one with the school’s logo. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It’s not like he ever noticed you.

You went about your day, bumping into Scott who made a faux growl sound like Logan’s to tease you and then bumping into Hank who sniffed your jacket and then applauded you on managing to steal from Logan. Later in the day, you ran head first into Storm, when you were trying to avoid Logan, and she glanced at him and then meowed at you teasingly. You’d swear on someone’s grave that the only person who didn’t know about your years old crush was the man himself, Logan.

You managed to avoid Logan all day until… dinner. He was sitting opposite the spot you always sat in. He was sitting there. Why was he sitting there was a question you couldn’t answer. You tugged at your jumper while holding your plate with one hand and you walked over to him.

“Logan,” you said with a nod.

“Bub,” he said back before looking you over.

He didn’t say anything about the jacket. He just sat there and ate his dinner and then stood up. He walked around to your side and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Nice jacket, bub.”

He then walked off, just like that.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? He didn’t know though. He would know about your ridiculous crush if he was listening to your heartbeat right now. Oh my god, so he knew you’d stolen it but he couldn’t put the damn pieces together?

You finished your dinner and walked off. You were halfway to your room when someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty classroom. The door was slammed and you were disoriented in the dark.

“You like me, bub?”

That was Logan’s voice. Wait, he knew? How? But…

“Come on, I ain’t got all day,” he said abruptly.

You nodded. You were quite sure he could see in the dark and the scoff he made seemed to say so. How could you have been so stupid? He was probably going to hate you now. He was straight. He’d always been straight and in love with Jean. He was oblivious. He’d always been oblivious. He could never like you. You weren’t a girl, no matter how hard you wanted to still be one so he’d like you. Your heart was racing and soon enough, you were hyperventilating.

His hands were on your shoulders and you were being pulled into a hug, a hug that smelt of wood and fuel. He was hugging you?

“It’s okay, I got you, bub,” he placed a light kiss on your forehead, “I swing both ways, you know.”

You’d always hated that he was still taller than you, one of the downsides of not getting on T until your 20’s and- wait, what? He swings both ways?

“You-you do?” You said once your breathing had slowed.

He nodded. You couldn’t see it but you could feel it. He could like you… as you, as a man? You didn’t have to be someone else? You could just be you.

“Yep, now let’s go. I think there’s two beers calling our names in the teacher’s lounge,” he said before opening the door and pulling you out of the classroom. “Jean mentioned your little crush and now I gotta hear all about how you’ve been pining for me for years.”

Curse you, Jean, but thanks, was all you could think as you just nodded and walked with him to the teachers lounge.

[oswalish]

rahhhh random rant because i’m angry hater mood i HATE HATE HATE people who think miss goldberg did anything to marvin. saw someone go “set those sails is a villain song and people need to accept miss goldberg is a bad person” i’m screaming and crying and clawing at the walls you don’t fucking understand it you don’t understand the goddamn musical.

in trousers is at its core about misogyny, that is its core theme, which is shown by how marvin hurts the women in his life, specifically his wife, his sweetheart, and miss goldberg. it would conflict the themes and narrative if miss goldberg hurt marvin, as this would diminish what marvin does to the other women. marvin does come up with excuses for his actions/ tries to garner sympathy in the musical (im talking 1979 vers here, i’m not as well versed on the 1985) he is immediately hit with trina shutting him down with her telling us how his actions have hurt her more than they’ve hurt him.

another thing is that the women are mostly not themselves, but rather versions of themselves that exist in marvin’s head. this doesn’t apply to trina, as she is the only woman in the musical who tells her own story. for example, your lips and me and its reprise tell us very specifically events that are happening in her life and how she’s feeling, she also tells her about her past. she also addresses marvin directly in breakfast over sugar.

whereas his sweetheart and miss goldberg do not have songs like this. “my highschool sweetheart” doesn’t tell us anything about his sweetheart other than that she’s his sweetheart, she’s a person, and that she wants marvin to pay attention to her more. but there honestly isn’t much in the musical to confirm that she actually is a person at all, she insists her own existence but marvin never pays attention to her or even addresses her existence, in childhood or adulthood.

miss goldberg is interesting. she doesn’t play into marvin’s fantasy and feels like more of a real person than his sweetheart, having her own personality and opinions. she also sings i am wearing a hat where she seems to tell part of a story that could be her own, though it doesn’t really get more specific than “i’m wearing a hat, i am unloved”. she never quite seems to behave like a schoolteacher either, within the story she seems to be more of a narrator, likely due to her importance in marvin’s story. she is the biggest case of marvin insisting his heterosexually, while also forcing him to realise he is gay. she is not actually herself within the musical, the real miss goldberg is probably nothing like her. this is an internalised version of her than marvin came up with, though it’s more authentic feeling than his sweetheart since her role is to pull marvin out of his fantasies, since she’s probably the only way marvin can actually be honest with himself and recognise his actions.

many people bring up the lines “you might tell me you’re a victim, you might get what you deserve, but i won’t excuse, boy i cant excuse, a boy who’s lost his nerve” which i will admit. do not sound great, incredibly suspicious even. but taken in the context that miss goldberg is not actually saying this to marvin, and actually it’s a version of miss goldberg that marvin has made up to make himself “behave properly” it starts to make sense.

marvin victimises himself a LOT. he’s self aware enough to recognise when he does wrong but tends to refuse to believe that it’s truly his fault, and that he’s the victim somehow. this is pretty obvious in falsettos but it’s also true in in trousers. he sings a lot of songs trying to portray himself as the victim, facing a lot of opposition from the women. this is shown in How Marvin Eats His Breakfast where he is sure that he’s in the right and is the victim because he’s not getting what he wants, and the women in the song directly oppose him by describing all the insane things he’s doing and even insulting him. it’s also shown in The Nausea Before the Game, where he’s lamenting about how his life is so hard, and how trying to live up to societies expectations is nauseating (this is a very simplified analysis of the song, i do actually thing marvin’s feelings in this song are valid but that’s an entirely different conversation). the song transitions into his wife singing about how she met him, how he ghosted her for weeks but then came back. that part of the song is much more tragic than marvin’s, essentially telling the listener that while his feelings are valid, he also seriously hurt and damaged this woman, and that that cannot be forgotten. the musical never ever lets us believe that marvin is the victim, despite his insistence.

and then every pony, is what i think the first line of that quote is referring to. how marvin is convinced that he is the victim, he is telling *himself* that. and the part of himself who knows that isn’t true manifests as miss goldberg to tell him that no, no you aren’t. no matter what marvin says, he will never be the victim, he is the one hurting others.

“you might get what you deserve” is slightly more difficult. i can’t really tell if it’s positive or negative. it could either refer to how he got what he deserved by being in a loveless marriage, or how he got what he deserved by leaving his wife and kids (and bird) to leave with whizzer. personally i think it’s the second, going with how marvin is convinced that he’s the victim, he’s convinced him leaving his wife for whizzer is what he deserves after going through so much. he thinks he deserves something good for once. and like yay bro for breaking out of your forced heterosexuality but did you have to destroy your wife’s entire life in the process? when i say marvin isn’t a victim i do mean in the context of the musical, marvin is very much a victim of society and heteronormativity, but he is NOT a victim of any of the women in the musical, which he likes to pretend he is. it’s easier to blame them than himself.

“but i won’t excuse, boy i can’t excuse, a boy who’s lost his nerve.” much simpler to understand, the miss goldberg inside marvin’s head is very much the voice of outside influence, aka wider society, the one that expects him to conform. she can’t excuse him “loosing his nerve” by deciding to cheat on his wife with a man and run away with said nerve.

anyway i hope this yap session help y’all understand that marvin was never harmed by miss goldberg (nor do i think he did anything to her, other than probably be off putting and creepy like an average 14 year old is) i doubt anyone will see this but i loooooove talking about this stupid musical so ask questions please please please or else i’ll post 5 MILLION of these because i can’t stop thinking about this musical

[jaccats]

messy but sweet

[rainingmbappe]

The rise of "let people enjoy things" is single handedly the backbone of the rise of anti intellectualism

[cravingforsweetsbooksandpurpose]

wip for my hanahaki au ; zosan / lawsan

Where 2 years had changed so much and Sanji wanted something more than just fooling around but Zoro wanted to cut it off and focus on his training and dreams.

After reuniting Sabaody, Sanji contracts hanahaki disease. The only person who knew and who helped him cure the disease was Law. The situation had helped them get to know each other.

Sadly for Zoro he only realized who Sanji was to him during the incident in Zou. Even then it was already too late...

-------

He's not petty. Definitely not. Petty is for small-minded insecure people. And Roronoa Zoro is not that kind of person. And even if he was that kind of person, he still wouldn't be petty for this kind of reason, because that would only mean he cares and it gets under his skin. Surely, it doesn't.

Sanji could feed whoever the hell he wants to. But still. Onigiri was his thing. Right?

Rice and a good sea king meat mixed together. Even one of his moves is called onigiri. So why...

Zoro just kept his mouth shut and looked away. Downing booze to drown his thoughts and whatever he was feeling away. It was helping. It really did. The light buzz of the alcohol had able him to relax and enjoy the banquet. Even making him tolerate Hiyori more than he thought he could.

Mantra of words, trying so hard to keep his mind focus. "It's nothing. It doesn't matter. Everything is just fine" He is a master of his own thoughts. Discipline and meditation was one of the things he's very good at. Nothing could distract him. Well,

That was until... Until...

He suddenly wish that the grim reaper had taken him after fighting King that day.

In front of everyone, He saw how Sanji cough to try and get everyone's attention as he slowly reached out for Law's hand caressing them lovingly as he made them intertwined. Law's face flushed. His free hand covering his mouth lazely, his face leaning on his left side looking away as if hiding his face, evidently embarrassed. Sanji brought their intertwined hands together to his face for a kiss.

Everyone looked over curiously.

While Zoro tried everything in his power to remain stoic. But does he really need to? When the moment he saw everything he felt his heart freeze. He couldn't do or say anything. He felt his throat constricting. He felt so insignificant before Sanji. Like how he and everyone didn't exist and it was only him and Law in this world.

Sanji chuckled for a bit as he looked embarrassed Law softly. And then looked over at everyone with a big grin on his face.

He said,

"Traffy and I started dating."

Loud happy sounds of cheering and clapping roared on the banquet room. Everyone was so happy. Happy for them. Happy for him.

Sanji smiled so brightly. Zoro had never seen that smile before... he had never seen him looked so happy before.

Zoro's stomach churned. It felt like something was stuck on him throat and he wanted to throw up.

But he didn't. He didn't want to ruin this for the cook. Especially after the fuck up shit his family did to him in Whole Cake Island.

So instead he brought his sake cup on his mouth gulping everything in one go. Hoping the cup would hide his face.

He feigned happiness. He wanted to be happy for him too but he'd be lying because he can't. He can't when it was because of another person who was making him this happy.

Thankfully, no one else thought he was acting indifferently. He never was big on showing emotions anyway.

He only held his cup up as a sign of salute. And smile a little. Even if it felt force.

Because it was. He wanted to go. Away from here.

[mewtwo24]

I just watched s2 episode 10 in the english dub and I have to say. Nothing could have prepared me for Howard's delivery of that final scene where Xie Lian gets worked up about the truth coming out.

The just...sincerely agonized delivery of "That my words were the empty ramblings of a sad child!!" shook me to the core. The absolute self-loathing in that line, the raw emotion. The way concealing the truth was done to spare Lang Qianqiu but also at its heart was about Xie Lian's unresolved feelings of humiliation and shame, the way [redacted] did everything in his power to make Xie Lian lose faith in himself and the possibility of good prevailing in the world.

The way TGCF keeps me up at night, man...

[g0thsoojin]

🦴

[bibleofficial]

went to the beach w kp & 4 other indian friends & 3 of us had NEVER surfed before girl WHEW it’s SO fun literally only 20quid to rent a wetsuit & board & i fucking smashed my toes on the sand so much, but also we 1) got the wrong tickets so we got off 1 stop early 2) went to find a bus & the bus that was supposed to be 15 min turned into an HOUR 3) on our way to find a bus back everyone’s phones are dying or dead bc it took us 3hrs longer to get there, cigarettes are out 4) all of the shops in town are closed & the town seems to have ONLY a tesco extra & 1 off license that sells a PACK FOR 15.65 A PACK WHICH IS FUCKING CRIMINAL ITS CHEAPER TO BUY IT FROM TESCO ARE U INSANE 5) the bus back to the other town kept skipping us bc the bus stop wasn’t the ACTUAL bus stop - i had 1 bowl since literally 11a & we got back at fucking 11p 😭😭😭

[apple-os]

ppl who like making friends solely with one-note cardboard boxes who will hang out with them when it's convenient and never open up about who they are as people and what their lives are like dni

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[tamagotchikgs]

last post ended up deleting my tags so im continuing them here

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[stinkrascal]

listen i just love holden so much. i know the holden post was two months ago but the part where klaus is like “yeah, my dad ate you because he said you cat-called my mom.” and holden goes “huh? i don’t even remember that. …that does sound like something i’d do tho tbh” AHHSHRHRJWUWHD hes such a sleezeball. i adore him. im glad hes dead in the straud universe.

[haunted-house-heart]

living with someone with untreated mental illness is like. i understand why you're like this and i do empathize but also like. jesus fucking christ get some help before i throttle you i stg