#low effort ed meme | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

byersfreaked · 2 years

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#𝙱𝚈𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙺𝙴𝙳 : a jonathan byers sideblog for the character featured in netflix’s stranger things, season one personality - focused, semi - canon compliant. headcanon heavy. very private and low effort side to clericlost. tentatively made 05/29/22. flimed by jean, 22, they/them, cst.

rules. dossier. notes. pinterest.

a few scattered notes about my portrayal :

- you do not need to be following my main to follow and interact with me over here. however, i do require that i be following you from there before interaction.

- i write jon as transmasc and using he/they pronouns. writing from his pov, i will often use either. jonathan doesn’t really care about pronouns as long as they aren’t she/her, but it’s unlikely your muse will even know they is an option unless they ask and/or he feels comfortable enough to tell them. he knew this about himself for as long as he can remember even having a vague concept of gender, and at first, even lonnie didn’t mind having a ‘ tomboy ’ for a kid until the kid asked joyce if it’d be okay if he was a boy. joyce told him he could be whatever he wanted to be-- he’d always be her kid, and lonnie blew a gasket and fucked off years down the road anyway. will never really knew jonathan as anyone other than his older brother, jon’s appearance and mannerisms barely batting an eye over time and starting when will was so little. the details of when and how will learns this about his brother in more concrete terms is up for plotting !

- for obvious socioeconomic reasons, jonathan has always and still simply binds.

- regarding characterization : i’m personally drawn to the season one version of him. pretty awkward but in an almost who - gives - a - fuck kind of way, spends most of his time with his headphones on and taking pictures of whatever catches his eye. it’s hard to put my finger on what exactly, but i feel like later seasons kind of forgot jon’s. . . awkwardness ? maybe his temper ? cynicism ? it does smooth over a little after all the upsidedown shit, as well as the personal growth he encounters just associating with people he wouldn’t have ever really chosen to on purpose [ nancy, steve, his kid brother’s little friends ], but my portrayal will stick closer to season one’s font of him, with elbow room of more canon and headcanon - ed development.

- regarding j.ancy : i don’t hate them even if i hate the way they got together, but i won’t assume ships unless we’ve specified them beforehand ! i’m always cool with plotted or pre - established memes as long as we communicate, though my take on jancy is that [ unless otherwise plotted ] the canon version of them is something jonathan kinda rolled with by season two because it felt like something he should do. that’s absolutely not to say he doesn’t care for nancy, or even love her, but that he truly hasn’t dug around for much depth beyond the fact that they obviously liked one another, so why not be together ? nancy is honestly his first serious relationship with anybody long term. it’s only by the end of season three and the continuation in season four that circumstances obviously prompt jon to think on he and nancy’s relationship more, whether it makes or breaks them. while this is all my general spin on canon events, this will not apply for every nancy. every portrayal of nancy is different and if i ship with them, it will reflect just as uniquely !

- speaking of ships, jon is also bi :)

- due to the nature of jonathan’s upbringing as well as st in general, there will be potentially triggering content on this blog, mostly involving : child abuse / neglect, depression and anxiety, c - ptsd, general horror, as well as smoking / drug use, but nothing crazier than nicotine or marijuana.

#navigation.#stranger things rp #stranger things roleplay #horror rp #this is gonna be so low effort guys it's not even funny #he's just my little stoner guy

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yelling-at-my-thighs · 3 years

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#tw #twed #edmemes #ed tingz #low effort ed meme #did this to distract myself from eating lmao...#also hi my new followers i wish you a very i love you and im sorry #anarekxia #annorexyz #not pro #im one of them easter bingers

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ironwingedhawk · 2 years

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#i don't expect many people to get it but #shrug #low effort meme #tatort saarbrücken #spatort #adam schürk #the raven cycle #Adam Parrish #sex ed netflix #adam groff

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bugwat3r · 3 years

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Ed-E my beloved,,,,,

#very low effort meme #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #ed e #lonesome road

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ultrasadbutkindarad · 3 years

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here you go a low effort ED meme that I made myself

#proana #notprojusttag #ed #bullimax #bullimi #ednos #anamia #thinspo #meme

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leqclerc · 3 years

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ugh I really hate that there's this segment of "fans" that want to step into spaces they already belittle in order to continue being shitty about them. Some people put sooo much of themselves into fics, let alone the time, skill, and effort. I've locked all my work which I've never before done in all my years of writing because of this 🙃

Yeah, it’s shitty. Obviously they have no understanding of RPF (the fiction is there for a reason), and it’s the sincerity that terrifies them. Like, there’s an ironic subreddit for F1 “fic” but it’s not really serious and I don’t think any author that actually put thought and effort and emotion into their work would post on there, which makes Dudebros feel better about getting turned on by some of the stuff posted on there. Because it’s not “genuine”, it’s a joke, so it obviously makes it okay, makes it different. 🙄

Bad news: This kind of stuff is cyclical. People will dredge up fic, display it in some public space to belittle it and point out how “invasive” and “gross” they think it is (because spamming the driver’s social media pages/hashtags and telling them how worthless they are is...totally morally okay!), stir the pot a bit.

Good news: They have the attention span of a fly. Saying “lmao I’ll go through the rest of it to see what’s there and dredge up more” and actually doing it (especially if it requires having an account first) are two different things. Most of them won’t bother, I don’t think. They’ll have their fun and then they’ll move on to making low-effort memes or whatever it is they do with their free time.

Then there’s the Twitter people who apparently also like to screenshot stuff and share it around for more or less the same reasons. I haven’t witnessed it happening with F1fic yet, but I vividly remember people in a different fandom deliberately looking for fics with a specific pairing (and this was a tiny ship so it’s not like they accidentally stumbled upon it) just so they can post it on their Twitter and have like-minded fandom gremlins tear it and the authors apart for being “vile” and all that. So. It happens. Obviously this is a bit different because real people are involved, most of whom are active on Twitter, and if this stuff is being @ ed at them or sent to them then they’re likely to see it, which the fic author likely doesn’t want and didn't consent to.

Again, it’s shitty, it shouldn’t happen, but sadly some people are just Like That, so it does. Keeping works archive-locked is absolutely fair and valid and people should take the necessary actions they feel they need to to feel more secure. But - dare I say? - I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Not in this instance. Dudebros are just kinda dumbly entertained by this; Twitter, I think, is the more “moral gatekeeping” community, so if anything I’d worry about them doing more damage. Hopefully that post will soon be buried under all the under stuff that gets posted to the F1 Reddit and it won’t be much of an issue going forward.

#replies #anonymous #discourse™

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makeroomforthejolyghost · 4 years

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ANYWAY the other weird thing about this is that like... ok so you know how the severity of both chronic illness itself and the degree to which it upsets you fluctuates from day to day, but geeeenerally on any given day the severity of the first one engenders that of the second? and how this means that sometimes after several good days in a row you'll get sort of emotionally deconditioned to the toll it takes, and then it'll smack you in the face.

and you'll spend a day (or a week) moping, not just because you lack the energy to do anything else but also because your mental horizons are too narrow and fuzzy to want to think about much else. and the only consolation you can think of is the company of others in your situaiton--but you don't have any actual friends with eds or pots so you make do with lurking. you watch some youtube videos by people with the same illness as you; you scavenge from the piles of tumblr accounts by people who mostly just reblog each other (so you've seen most of the memes even before the binge begins) and deliver occasional harrowing health and personal-life updates; if you've hit a really low point, you google "[current most frustrating symptom]+[diagnosis you have and know/suspect is behind it]" and end up on the inspire forums, where you read threads and threads of thirdhand advice badly explained by other people's doctors, until they start to sound like conspiracy theories by which point you know it's time to close the tab--but anyway.

anyway, when you start to feel better enough to want to do things again, but not quite well enough for your efforts to stick to the wall, you think, "i should do something about this. i deserve to feel better." so instead of memes and health updates you scroll the more respectable front-facing community blogs and open like six tabs of msaterposts of Resources. the most interesting links are usually broken, but the few that still work lead to medium listicles: 17 kinds of icepack people with EDS swear by. nine brands of compression stocking, six of which you haven't tried yet. 14 braces that actually work (asterisk). 25 off-label medications. seven new ways to try cbd. but also, most importantly for this post, stuff like, 11 ways to make showering easier with a chronic illness. four of the suggestions cater to complaints that don't apply to you; three more you adopted five years ago, and seem so obvious now that it takes some effort to remember they're not condescending--just appealing to a less-seasoned reader. two of them you've tried and rejected, as adding an extra step to the showering process does not make things easier, thank you very much. and the other two are... products.

(fucking post-length limit. TO BE CONTINUED i guess, like a fucking twitter thread.)

#existential fart chart

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falseroar · 5 years

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Dark Laughter Part 3: Mirror Images

((Here’s a link to Part 2: I’m Trying and a link to the beginning of the series, Part 1: What Dark Saw.))

Dark spent over an hour pacing the third floor of the house, examining every inch of the hall where he thought—where he knew he saw you earlier, allowing his aura to stretch and expand in search of something, anything, to prove that he was right.

But there was nothing, no sense of anything off or out of the ordinary.

In response to his anger, the lights overhead flickered and hummed, any illumination they provided already struggling to do any more than highlight the oppressive darkness that hung heavy in the air for several feet around him.

Dark closed his eyes and breathed out, allowing his aura to recede and the normal colors of the hallway to return.

This was pointless and getting him nowhere. He would get his answers eventually, but not like this. To start, he needed to get away from this area and clear his head.

Dark made his way down the stairs to the second floor, where bedroom doors lined the hall to either side. Most of the rooms were silent and dark at this hour of the night, although Ed Edgar’s snores could be heard long before Dark passed the ego’s room. Blue light came out from beneath a door plastered with stickers of various memes and brand names, Bing no doubt playing whatever battle royale game had caught his attention this week. Dark thought he heard sniffling from behind one of the doors that had yet to be decorated, but when he paused there the noise stopped.

Aside from these small things, the house was relatively quiet, and there was no one to stop Dark on his way to his office, or to interrupt him with some pointless question or remark. It was his own restless thoughts that made him pause at the door, one hand on the doorknob, before continuing on down the hall to the stairs at the other end. Downstairs, Dark saw a single light on in the infirmary and heard the doctor tapping away at his keyboard. In the living room he spotted an ego sprawled out on the couch, their face covered by a book but the suit and cape giving away Silver Shepherd’s identity. His mask lay on the cushion beside him, and Dark briefly considered it before deciding to give the opportunity a pass.

Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, where the only light came from the small bulb above the sink. Soft breathing came from the pantry door in the corner, where Chef Iplier was known to keep a cot despite the ample number of bedrooms upstairs. No one questioned him on that, or anything else the ego was known or suspected to do when left alone here in his domain.

Dark peered out the back window, but the distant forest line was just a suggestion at this time of night. Somewhere out there the King of the Squirrels kept a nest or a tree fort or some kind of hideaway that no one else had been able to find, where he spent most of his nights unless the weather became particularly bad. The last time that happened, Dr. Iplier had taken advantage of the opportunity to, with the combined effort of Google and some of the stronger egos such as Silver Shepherd, “convince” the King to take a rare bath. For their effort, they all earned several scratches and bites, and somehow despite the massive amounts of flea and tick shampoo, the King still came out smelling vaguely of peanuts.

Dark smiled to himself at the memory as he left the kitchen, feeling…more in control of his emotions, at least. Perhaps, and it dealt a severe blow to his pride to admit even in the privacy of his own mind, perhaps the Host and Google were right to dismiss his concerns. What he saw in the hall couldn’t have been real—you were safe and asleep miles away. He told himself that maybe it was a trick of memory or—

Something moved to Dark’s left and he spun around before realizing that he was looking at the wide mirror hanging on the wall. It was a replacement for the one you had broken when you “arrived” last year, but in a rare moment of self-interest, the Host had asked that it not be put back in the same place. He hadn’t explained why, and for several months after he had still gone out of his way to avoid that stretch of hall near the conference room.

Now it hung here on the ground floor, where it made this area a little lighter and provided the egos a chance to check themselves out and make any last-minute adjustments before leaving or joining the others for a meal.

In the relative darkness of the hallway, it took Dark a half second to realize just how wrong the reflection was. There was a door behind him, yes, but it did not have the same shape and make as the front door of the ego house. Black and white checkered tiles in the mirror did not match the flooring behind him, and there was certainly no staircase to his right twisting up and out of sight.

And, more importantly, it was not his own reflection that stared back out at him.

You stood opposite him, your reflection just as he had seen it at the end of the hall earlier: head tilted at a wrong angle, blood staining old clothes he hadn’t seen in over a year, but for a split second he could clearly see your face.

Until a bloodied hand slammed against the other side of the glass.

Dark cried out and backed away, but it was his own reflection looking back at him from the mirror, face pale as he let his outstretched hand drop to his side where it trembled until he gripped it with his other hand. His mirror image betrayed the horror that flashed through his eyes, but he did not see what it turned into when he spun around at the sound from down the hall.

“Who’s there?” Dark asked.

Silence met his question, and continued until he almost doubted what he had heard.

Almost.

Dark did not bother with the stairs, choosing instead to disappear into his aura.

In the empty hallway, something stirred in the mirror and, from a distance, the laugh Dark heard repeated itself, mocking now.

---

The Host leaned close to the microphone, speaking low and soft in the complete confidence that it caught every word that flowed through him and swept up his listeners in their wake. And, for one very special listener, was more than just a story.

Tonight, it was his reality.

“—He fumbles with the handle, aware of the footsteps coming ever closer. If this key doesn’t work, there are no second chances for our dear Phillip. After all, we all know second chances are far too kind for what he has done. No, there is only the creature, the manifestation of his wrongs, drawn by the smell of fear that clouds his judgment, creeping ever nearer with every precious second he wastes praying that he chose correctly, it more than ready to—”

The Host paused, aware of the sudden change in the atmosphere of his recording studio. His smile of pleasure quickly turned into a thin-lipped frown, but he recovered quickly and continued, “No, the key fits, the door unlocks, and Phillip is stumbling out into the cold night air, free of the warehouse. He slams the door behind him, but nothing follows. Listeners, let’s leave Phillip alone to his thoughts, to consider what he’s learned this night. He will have more than enough time walking the long miles back into town, assuming he remembers the correct way to go. He is so given to ‘forgetting,’ after all. And I will leave you now, until next time. Good night, my dearest listeners.”

The Host smiled at those last words out of habit, but as he turned off the equipment and removed his headphones to be greeted by a terrible ringing sound, that expression soured.

“The Host is aware that his ‘On Air’ light is still on.”

“You left the door unlocked,” Dark answered.

“Because the Host is aware that Wilford planned to drop by, and he has grown tired of replacing the lock on that door. The Host is also aware that Darkiplier did not use the door, so the point is moot.”

“Then if you’re so aware of everything, you should know why I’m here.” Dark heard his ringing hit a new a pitch and tried to reign his aura in before it damaged the sensitive equipment that filled the studio. A courtesy he hardly thought the ego deserved, but one he attempted all the same.

“The Host is not omniscient,” he answered, but his lips moved briefly before he spoke up again. “Darkiplier saw something again?”

“I saw them, I saw Y/N,” Dark said. “In the mirror, downstairs, and just like before they were—something was wrong with them.”

“The Host has told Darkiplier, Y/N is at Mark’s house, there’s nothing wrong—”

“I know, I called, but that doesn’t change what I saw. I want you to look back, right now, and tell me what happened with your narration.”

“Darkiplier does not give the Host orders, not anymore.”

“I’m asking,” Dark said, baring his teeth at the word. “Host, this is for Y/N—”

“And since when has Darkiplier cared about Y/N?” Bitterness coursed through the Host’s words but it quickly turned to a quiet fury as he said, “Darkiplier has the audacity to be offended by the Host’s words, as if he has not constantly tried to use Y/N for his own benefit, from attempting to take advantage of their visions to nearly getting them destroyed in a vain attempt to save himself—”

“That was Anti—”

“Who you made a deal with in the first place just to get closer to Y/N! You possessed them to try and kill the Host!”

“Please. You and I both know you egos are harder to kill than that. You should know that more than anyone here, Author.”

The Host reached up, his fingertips brushing against the bandages around his eyes. “The Host is aware that just because we can survive something, it doesn’t mean there aren’t scars left behind. And he has seen so many of the scars that Darkiplier has left upon Y/N.”

“What are you talking about? I never—”

“How many years, trapped in that mirror?” The Host asked aloud. “How long left alone in that house? How many more, left as a splintered and broken echo of themselves? How many sleepless nights since then, how many nightmares? How many memories locked away because of the pain? How deep is the scar left by the face of a friend used to betray them, to take away their very body, only to have it happen again? Darkiplier, of all people, should know what that violation of Y/N’s person meant when he used them, and all just for a single act of spite.”

Dark’s aura was silent as it pressed in tight around him, leaving him almost monochromatic as he let those words sink in. His voice was low, controlled, and restrained as he said, “Do you feel proud of yourself, after that little speech? The righteous and put-upon Host, defending his little brothers, defending Y/N from the big bad Darkiplier? As if your hands are clean.”

Dark paced around the recording studio, taking in the equipment as he said, “Such a shame Y/N has never been able to catch your little show, isn’t it? I wonder how they would feel, knowing how you twist your words around your latest ‘characters’, hearing that love of control in your voice as you play with them for your dear listeners. You know it’s funny, that tone you have when you tell a story, from the very first book of the Author’s that I read, I always felt like there was more of me in you than Mark. You used to be my favorite, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“The Host is nothing like Darkiplier.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Dark said with a shrug as he played with one of the dials on a speaker. “But either way, I respect you, Host, and your abilities. That’s why I’ll ask again: what was that thing in the hallway, if it wasn’t Y/N?”

“Earlier, Darkiplier stood alone in the hallway, brooding over his loss of control over the egos.” The Host smirked and continued, “As he walked down the hallway, he looked up and saw…”

The Host frowned and tilted his head. “The Host cannot read what was there. Darkiplier saw something in the mirror later, but again the Host cannot read anything except that Dark was alone with his fear. He…was afraid. He is afraid.”

Dark grasped his hand with the other to still the tremors that ran up and down it as he said, “Your narration is failing you, Host. I wasn’t the only one there, it looked like Y/N, but—”

“But it couldn’t have been them,” the Host finished for him. “Darkiplier appears tired. How long has it been since he slept?”

Dark scowled. “I don’t see how that matters.”

“The Host might think it were Dark’s own guilt playing tricks on his mind, if he were capable of feeling such a thing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Does Dark ask if the Host means he is incapable of feeling guilt, or expressing the belief that he should have nothing to feel remorse for?”

Dark would not have dignified that with an answer, if he hadn’t heard the small, humorless chuckle that came from the Host. He was laughing at him?

“I know what I’ve done, and I don’t regret a single thing. You never had a problem with it before, when I was the only one looking out for you and the other useless copies. How many of you wouldn’t even be here today if it weren’t for me, making sure his precious fans remembered you?”

“Because it gave Darkiplier pleasure, to be in control. To have so many ‘copies’ of the man he hated dependent on him, in fear of him. Now he cannot accept the fact that the egos no longer need him to survive. How does it feel, to be so powerless and alone, Darkiplier?”

“I am far from powerless,” Dark answered, allowing his aura to seep out from around him and wrap around the ego seated in his chair. Dull, distant creaks came from within as the recording studio became a distant echo of the dark reality stretching around them. “But I’d be more than happy to gag that mouth of yours and let you find out what true helplessness feels like.”

He tilted his head and with a crack of his neck the darkness retreated, leaving the normal studio in its wake. Dark leaned on the desk that separated him from the Host and smiled down at him, but there was no humor in his eyes as he said, “If only Wilford had shot you in the mouth instead.”

The Host rose to his feet, hands planted on the desk as he leaned forward, bandaged eyes meeting Dark’s own as his face twisted with fury.

“Darkiplier shuts his mouth, because the Host is sick and tired of listening to him.”

Dark tried to speak, but his lips refused to part.

“Whatever is haunting Darkiplier, the Host does not care but is sure that he deserves it. He has done enough to hurt the people of this house for his own selfish reasons, and no ego will help him relieve his own guilt and fear, not anymore. Darkiplier turns away from the Host’s desk and walks out of the studio. He does not return.”

Dark felt his body move without input from his brain, turning and walking out the door just as the Host narrated. The second the door shut behind him he felt the release of the Host’s power, only for it to be replaced by sheer rage.

Every sleeping ego in the house was startled into wakefulness by the terrible ringing and indistinguishable voices that escaped from Dark’s aura until he turned and walked into his own darkness. Once he disappeared, the noise gave way to an uneasy silence as the others waited to see if anything would follow.

((End of Part 3. Thank you for reading! And for the record, Phillip absolutely deserved it. Probably. Either way, hitchhiking in the middle of the night on a little-used back road is definitely not recommended for so many reasons, but he’ll figure that out for himself.

Here’s the link to the next part, Part 4: Be Good to Yourself!

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

#markiplier #fanfic #wkm y/n #Darkiplier #The Host #Two so alike yet not #Oh how the Host and Dark fought #Anger blinds and fear controls #At stake an attorney's souls

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ichoreyed · 5 years

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——— BASICS! ♡

NAME! ♡ Ren PRONOUNS! ♡ they/them or he/him ZODIAC SIGN! ♡ gemini TAKEN OR SINGLE! ♡ single!

——— THREE FACTS! ♡

1! ♡ I’ve been a fan of FMA since roughly 2009ish? Wow, 10 years...long time.

2! ♡ I used to do competitive swimming. My best two strokes were backstroke and butterfly.

3! ♡ I rock climb a lot in my spare time! Although I seriously injured my knee a few months back so I haven’t made much progress.

——— EXPERIENCE! ♡

PLATFORMS USED! ♡ I used to roleplay on iScribble back in the day. Either that or on deviantART, especially in RP-centrics group. I tried to get into it on tumblr in like 2013 but couldn’t really figure it out. Only in May did I start putting in effort again, and now I’m kinda hooked on it lol. I do a lot of creative writing (usually limit texts + experimental prose) so this has been a good way to keep me writing without feeling too taxing.

——— MUSE PREFERENCE! ♡

GENDER! ♡ The two blogs that I put the most time into are both male-aligned (my Ed being a trans man and my other muse being a nonbinary aligned man). I generally write characters who are cis men in fiction, oof.

I’d like to change that up, but I’m also trying to not throw myself overboard. I have three muses and one multimuse blog and I can barely keep up with Ed and the other muse I put the most energy into...!

LEAST FAVOURITE FACE(S)! ♡ Honestly I don’t really like using real people as FCs. It just feels kinda weird to me. I don’t care if other people do it, but it’s not for me. I’m really impatient with icon making though...shout out to FMA for being popular so that I can just use free-to-use ones...lmao. I don’t have a batch editor or anything, and all my art is done on my iPad, so I’m pretty much stuck with the absolute basics here.

MULTI OR SINGLE! ♡ I have one multimuse which I quite enjoy, but I don’t put as much time into it as I’d like since I have a single muse from the same fandom. I think I’d like to make a multimuse someday, but I might get bogged down. I don’t know!

FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡ I’m a sucker for writing angst, but I also like fluff. I don’t really write smut. Never written it with someone else and I’d rather not put that on tumblr if I ever do end up writing it.

PLOT / MEMES! ♡ both. I like using memes as a way to break the ice, and then plotting if someone has an idea of a way to take the certain ask. It’s easy, low-energy, high-payoff. Which I’m all about!

tagged by: @rxincarnatxd thanks so much! tagging: @avadite @nakotnes @touchfled if you guys haven’t yet...!

#ooc #long post

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aspernamentum · 5 years

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Flashback \\ Jimbo n Didi

meme // accepting.

The pair walked into the cinema. It was empty, Jimmy had politely allowed Didi to choose the seats. The lights came up, Jimmy shoved some popcorn into his mouth. The movie faded in, 50 First Dates, Jimmy groaned. For the first fifteen minutes of the movie, Jimmy boo’d constantly, throwing his popcorn at Adam Sandlers big stupid face. The reel stopped abruptly. Grunting could be heard from the projectionist, loud grunting, groaning, he sounded like a fucking zombie. The light came back on, the picture was different. The grainy black-and-white picture contrasted with the relatively modern looking kitchen, “I… I know that place.” Jimmy murmured.

Jimmy leaned forward in his seat as he watched himself walk into the kitchen, music faded in. Jimmy was singing as he cooked, reading from a recipe as he belted out Love and Happiness by Al Green. Jimmy looked younger on-screen, early twenties, slicked back hair, wearing a wife-beater and suit trousers. Two men walked down the apartment complex’s halls, he was a big guy, one looked as though he could dead-lift a truck. He was adorned with gold chains, his hair was slicked back. The other was shorter, stockier, he rapped the door at the end of the hall. Jimmy flicked on the stove when they knocked, he moved through the tiny apartment and answered. He seemed confused, it took him a minute to say anything. “Sam, Eddie.” He muttered. “Everything all right?” “Nah, Jimmy. ‘Fraid not. Can we come in?” Sam, the skinnier one, asked. “I’m cooking for Zoe – can it wait?” This Jimmy, the Jimmy on screen, he was far more hospitable than the one that sat next to Didi. “Can’t wait.” Eddie grunted. He pushed past Jimmy and into his apartment. Sam gave Jimmy a begrudged smile as he swanned in. They sat on his couch. Jimmy stood in front of the TV. “Sit.” Sam said, Jimmy did as he was told. “We got’ta talk about the Low situation.” Jimmy’s jaw clenched at the mere mention of it. “I told Mazzeo. Ain’t gon’na happen. Cut me loose, I don’t give a shit. I’m a gun for hire, I’ll find work. Now, get the fuck out’ta my apartment.” Jimmy stood again. That was all he had to say on the situation. Eddie stood too. Jimmy began to look nervous.

“Eddie was my friend. We were friends.” Jimmy, the one who sat firmly in the uncomfortable cinema seats, sounded hurt, or at least as hurt as modern Jimmy could. Eddie was on him in a flash, his hand grabbed Jimmy’s throat and slammed him to the wall, knocking the TV out of the way in the process. Jimmy was off the ground, squirming like a rat, kicking his legs and trying his hardest to hit Eddie’s elbow. “See,” Sam said, also standing so casually. “If you had just killed the fucking Scotsman, if you had just did as the Don said, we wouldn’t have to do this. I like you Jimmy, an’ this pains me, it truly does. Kill him, Ed. I’ll be out in the car.” Sam reached down to the coffee table, stole one of Jimmy’s cigarettes, and gave him a big smile before leaving, shutting the door on his way out. Eddie’s grip tightened, Jimmy’s eye’s bulged, he was beginning to go a different shade of grey. “zzzshhh... Oe,” he managed to squeeze out. Eddie didn’t relent. One last plan, one last-ditch effort. Jimmy managed to ram his thumb into Eddie’s eye. Eddie didn’t let go immediately, he threw Jimmy to the ground, Jimmy bounced off the TV and rolled off gasping for air. The TV was one of the old ones, the ones with the bag-backs. Eddie picked it up and dropped it on Jimmy. Jimmy screeched, writhing around on the floor. The TV had cracked, but it hadn’t smashed. As Eddie loomed over Jimmy, survival mode kicked in. Flight was out, fight was in. He grabbed the TV, bounced it off the ground as hard as he could. The screen shattered. He grabbed a shard and squirmed off, managing to pull himself up as Eddie lumbered towards him. Jimmy swing at Eddie with the shard, his missed, Eddie was backing him into the kitchen. Eddie swung his meat-hook and smashed Jimmy across the cheek, he stumbled, landing on the kitchen, wiping the pan off the stove. Eddie grabbed him by the hair, Jimmy let out pained wails. His eye hovered above the naked flame, his hands grabbed the counter. “Eddie, Eddie! Please! Please don’t do this, please just --” he was swinging wildly with the shard, he connected, a quick slice at the stomach, his head slammed against the stove, missing the flame by millimeters.

What followed was brutality. Jimmy was cornered, it was nowhere near an even fight. Jimmy moved for the kitchen drawer, he was trying to get a knife. The drawer was slammed on his fingers, a fist connected with Jimmy’s face. Then another, then a body shot, then another face shot. Jimmy tried to throw up his guard, but the punches were too powerful. Blood filled his mouth, filled his eye’s, burst out his nose, Eddie was barely phased, lightly perspiring at best, the guy was a boxer after all. Jimmy fell to his knees, throwing his hands up. “Sthop!” His tongue was about five times the size it was before the fight, his voice was just a wheeze. He dropped himself into the corner of the kitchen, “jutht get it over with.” And he meant it. Perhaps that’s why the memory stuck in his mind so much, not because it was the first time he was willing to die, not because it was the first time he had felt betrayal, but because for the first time he was alone. The mob were out for his blood, for his friends blood, and that anger that had guided him through so much, that had saved his ass on so many occasions just wasn’t there. “When I’m done here, we’re gon’na drive over to Jacks’ apartment. We’re gon’na kill him real slow. You could’a stopped that. You could’a just pulled the trigger yourself. Would’a been kinder.” Eddie’s voice was low grumble, but he didn’t sound sadistic, he sounded numb. This wasn’t Eddie’s life, some debts needed to be paid. Jimmy pulled himself up. He couldn’t die. Not yet. He leaned against the kitchen counter next to the microwave, trying to catch his breath. Eddie pulled a knife out Jimmy’s drawer, Jimmy grabbed the microwave and in one quick and fluid movement rammed Eddie across the head, finally he had some leverage, the knife dropped, Jimmy let out a primal scream as he slammed the microwaved onto Eddie’s head again, the glass door broke, Eddie screamed and stumbled back, “fuck you!” Jimmy yelled, he swung back, slammed Eddie on the chin. Eddie hit the ground. Jimmy dropped the microwave. “You were my friend,” Jimmy wheezed, “you could’ve left me alone.” Blood and saliva spilled out his mouth involuntarily as he spoke. Jimmy limped over the reeling Eddie, he grabbed a meat-tenderizer out the drawer. He got on top of Eddie. “You could’ve left me alone.” He raised the meat tenderizer, he slammed it down. The film burnt out.

“BOOOOOOO!” Jimmy yelled at the screen, “BOOOO! BULLSHIT! BOOOOOOOOO!”

#dxspereaux #ch; jimmy #wtf is this #v; glory days

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annarosewriting · 5 years

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Facebook Sucks.

To be fair though, all social media kind of sucks.

But Facebook is where the focus of my hatred lies.

It’s sole purpose upon conception was to rank girls on how hot they were (how have we, as a society, all forgotten that fact?), it fucked with the 2016 election AND it’s stealing our data and giving us ads for products we thought about once five years ago.

(I also recently learned they took down my girl, Liz Warren’s ads because she, correctly, called them out on their bullshit. We truly live in a dystopian society.)

Facebook is filled with Local’s whose narrow view of the world helped get Donald and Co. in office and brought fucking measles back. (VACCINATE YOUR KIDS. FUCK.)

It’s dripping with racist, “all lives matter!” bullshit and sexist, “well what about men’s rights” garbage. Relatives who believe click bait articles over NPR. And of course, everyone only posting The Good Shit that’s happening to them.

I was bored at work the other day and got on Facebook which was my first, and only, mistake. I scrolled down my feed and counted two proposals, one person buying a whole ass house and seven people getting accepted into their dream jobs/higher ed programs.

And for the hottest of seconds, I hated all of those people. I blamed all of my problems on them.

It was their fault I felt like I wasn’t good at my job. Their fault that I was feeling stuck. It was their doing with their emoji-laden announcements that I was feeling overworked, overlooked and under-appreciated.

Luckily I was able to reign it in and cut those feelings off at the pass. Because that’s ridiculous. And also I know myself well enough that if I did let myself go down that path a depresh sesh would hit so hard and fast that the rest of my week would be ruined.

I think the problem with Facebook and it’s hotter, more successful, cousin Instagram, is that it props up the idea that everyone’s performance art piece they call Life is a perfect, Academy-Award winning darling, that everyone can’t stop talking about.

Except for Twitter. That’s the only place where true Messy Bitch Culture is accepted, allowed and, to a certain extent, celebrated so it can stay.

In general, I’m very tired of social media. Which can’t bode well for the fact that I chose that as a vital part of my career BUT it doesn’t change the fact it’s an exhausting source of time, energy and a horrifying mix of performance and revenue that society can’t seem to quit.

I’m weary of feeling like I have to perform constantly. For feeling like I always have to be ON. That I need to measure up to what other people think success is. That my life needs to be one thrilling life event after another.

In the past, I spent a lot of time, energy and heartache constructing a poorly designed house of cards via Facebook and Instagram posts to prove that I was Someone who was Cool and Fun and Flirty and Someone Who Deserved to Be Adored By Everyone.

Every day I added to the shoddily constructed set that was my hideously low budget, community theater performance of My Fantastic Life (trademark pending).

Showing off before and after shots of my weight loss. Trying to prove I was in a Cool Liberal Arts College Scene. Snapchatting the evidence of me drinking shitty alcohol and going out. Trying to insinuate that guys wanted to date me. Throwing up full ass albums on Facebook just to prove I had a big ole group of BFF’s.

I wanted to prove I wasn’t alone!! I wasn’t miserable!!! I wasn’t hanging out with the same two people over and over again!!! I didn’t feel directionless!!! I was someone who had a big group of friends!! Guys wanted to date me!! I had an endless supply of shitty booze and frat parties right at my fingertips!!! I was the QUEEN of having the Classic College Experience and being Someone Who Was Popular!!!!

And I was profoundly, truly miserable.

The shitty booze caused me to say and do things that I deeply regret. Not to mention the violent hangovers they caused.

All the boys turned out to be garbage and made me feel even WORSE about myself. Not that that’s a surprise.

The big group of friends disappeared. I was more focused on me and what I could get out of others than being a supportive friend.

I was wasting so much time, energy and effort into trying to impress a phantom audience instead of trying to figure out what would actually make me happy.

I was doing things and participating in activities that went against what I believed in.

I was hurting and depressed.

So, shit blew up in my face.

It took an overhaul of my life and a long time to realize that that was a learning experience I desperately needed. And because of it, I like who I am a lot more now.

It made me realize that I don’t care about the numbers on social media. The only reason I’m still attached to it is Chris Evans daily tweets dragging the GOP, getting daily body positive inspiration and to keep tabs on all the members of 1D.

Except for Zayn. Fuck Zayn.

It taught me that I can post whatever the fuck I want because truly, who gives a shit. We’re alive on a rock hurtling in space and we’re concerned by how many people will look at a shitty picture of food?? Let me post shitty Captain America meme’s in PEACE.

Most importantly it taught me how I want to use social media and the effect I want it to have on me and the effect I want to have on it.

I like TYPING IN ALL CAPS ABOUT THINGS I LOVE.

I love tweeting 40 times in an hour then not tweeting for a month straight.

I love posting selfies of myself over and over again.

I love not posting on Facebook so no one from high school can know what I’m doing.

It can be hard to capture the messier, more vulnerable parts of life though.

Pictures of me modeling can’t capture how violently I beat myself up for skipping a workout or for how ugly I’ve felt for the past few weeks.

Pictures of me with friends, smiling and having fun don’t reveal the self-doubt that I’m a bad friend and the fear that they’ll all decide to leave me.

A snapshot of me and my family isn’t a great way to reveal the fear I have of what I’ll do when my parents are gone.

The Insta story of the Fun Office Thing I’m doing doesn’t convey the many days and hours I sit at my desk, trying to look busy, feeling like I’ll never measure up and how unsure I am of the career choice I made.

Snapchats of me going out don’t reveal the many nights I’m plagued by the persistent fear that what I’m doing with my life isn’t enough and that I need to do more, more, more, more.

So it’s challenging to convey the harder, messier sides of life on social media. But I think it’s important though. It can make people feel less alone and who doesn’t want to feel less lonely on this bitch of an earth?

Recently, I’m caught between the rock and a hard place of, “Why bother posting that? Who even cares?” And “Might as well post that. Who cares?”

At the end of the day, we all have different thoughts and have read thousands of think pieces on social media. How our society uses and abuses it. How it brings us closer together or further apart. How it’s the best thing to happen to us or the worst.

So why do I even bother posting this? Who even cares? In the grand scheme of things, does it even matter?

Probably not.

But I might as well.

Who cares?

#anna writes #anna rose writing #social media #existential crisis

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yelling-at-my-thighs · 3 years

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#tw #twed #low effort meme #annorexyz #anarekxia #not pro #ed memes #its cramp season

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allbeendonebefore · 6 years

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An Incomplete List of Hapo’s Vic Picks

I took some books out of the library over the summer to read up and supplement my Victoria Knowledge (tm) while i was here working here - now that I’m leaving the island again I’ve begun to compile them for your viewing pleasure.

Here in no particular order are my vic headcanons for @orcanadian to do with as she pleases xD I provide no citations but can clarify which things come from books and which things come from experience etc etc. Again the bias here is I pick things that are interesting/funny to me and things which I believe fit with her character as has been presented. Also remember that my default for comparison tends to be Ed first, Cal second, and then my impressions of other cities.

CHILDHOOD STUFF

- the number one thing that sticks out to me after reading edmonton/calgary history is how absurdly aristocratic Victoria is. In a north american sense she’s outrageously sure of herself and confident in her supposed god-given blessings and natural talents and has been so since she was young - in a european sense she’s ridiculously quaint in a kind of muddy, low class way.

- so on the one hand while she is a Lady (tm) and will only settle for the best things, she’s also the sort of kid who will appall her guardians by digging in the dirt and doing the gardening Herself.

- I get the feeling that despite beginning as an HBC fort (read: HBC retirement home), HBC had less the interior/mainland understanding (”here before christ”) and a little more of the American understanding (”hated british company”). Not that she would Ever stoop to allowing herself to be called an American, and it took her a Very long time to warm up to the idea of being called a Canadian as the people she met from Ontario and Nova Scotia during the gold rushes didn’t quite suit her idea of decent companions. Islander first, through and through.

- as a kid she spent so much time trying to help create a place she hadn’t really any actual concept of and for the longest time was heavily resistant to anything that didn’t fit her vision. Now as an adult, while the remnants of that particular brand of colonialism and imported class divides are still present, she’s making a very particular effort to present herself as an international and conscious person. (She’s not, exactly, and is still very Basic White Girl (tm) in a lot of things, but she really is trying, especially where indigenous relationships are concerned)

RELATIONSHIPS

- her relationship with the rest of the island and the mainland as a kid was nothing short of princess to peasant. Her attitude pushed New Westminster (Vancouver’s predecessor) to become adamantly pro-US annexation first and then adamantly pro-Confederation second only a little spitefully, and Victoria’s dependence on Nanaimo’s coal ended up radicalizing the workers. After the turn of the century, she seems to have settled down and mellowed in her relationships, more or less happy with her hold on the political reigns of the province.

- While her relationship with Van Man had quite a rough start, she’s sort of come to accept their respective roles. In the beginning she seemed to be more pissed that he had taken the name of *her* island than she was annoyed by his economic dominance of the province, and her prior relationship with New Westminister seems to have briefly been directed at Vancouver, reaching peak intensity when Canada revealed that maybe building a railway across the Georgia Strait to the island wasn’t feasible after all.

- Upon acquiring the capital status, Vic started to settle into the idea that /maybe/ they were finally being treated *fairly* and while Van Man wasn’t her *equal* so to speak he could at least learn a thing or two from her guidance. Van Man just accepts this because he knows he can physically lift her, tuck her in, and lock her in her house if she gets sick.

- Will not let you forget that she is /technically/ the oldest city in Western Canada. Absolutely acts like it and is always ready to dispense Wisdom (tm) even if she doesn’t actually have the experience or knowledge to back it up.

- Despite being closer to the Edge of all things, she’s not a particularly outward looking person even when she pretends to be. Most of her contact with the outside world is actually through Vancouver or through gossip, she remains quite isolated and she’s quite alright with that. Also had more of a historical aversion to Seattle/California than perhaps Vancouver did (since she viewed Washington, Oregon etc. as belonging to her and because she wasn’t particularly fond of all the sketchy flannel-wearing Californians turning up in the mid 19th century rushes)

- Victoria is actually a committee of 17 separate municipalities, 4 of which are perhaps particularly important to take note of. The ‘four towns in a city’s trench coat’ are as follows:

- VICTORIA: the vic chick herself, seat of power in the province, the mastermind of Vancouver Island, and the hip and trendy downtown.

- OAK BAY: the heart of old British culture and class divides, highly resistant to development of any sort, and self proclaimed “original” hollywood north, Oak Bay is a state of mind more than a place who’s gender is tweed and mostly goes downtown for the Irish Linen store.

- ESQUIMALT: was going to be Victoria’s original location but had crap farmland and no fresh water, so became the military and naval base instead. Vic had a romanticized view of a sailor who would come and sweep her away from the island in her youth but...

- SAANICH: i suppose the chill and friendly popular neighbour of the four and perhaps the most tenuous sense of identity, but loves hiking and stargazing and being outside in general. Shares the university and a local cryptid with Oak Bay.

- Quebec City is kind of her secret senpai - she essentially demanded the CPR build her a hotel on par with Chateau Frontenac (which they did, begrudgingly) and she’s the only one so far this side of Canada to be able to enjoy a tin of Samuel’s chocolate fondue with her fresh garden produce.

- Cal is a CONSTANT visitor to the island to the point that it’s even more common to see Calgary Flames or Stamps junk than it is to see Vancouver or Seattle teams. Vic is “a playground for rich Calgarians”. They may be on opposite ends of many political debates, but they are both similar in personality in a traditional/romantic/conservative way.

- She also has a bit of an interesting (if mildly condescending) relationship with Hally - polar opposite in attitudes and class backgrounds, but share historical, cultural and geographical similarities enough to at least be able to work together and chat a fair bit.

- “Hey Whitehorse, remember that ship I sent you?” “Ahh... about that...”

CURRENT QUIRKS

- Old lady at heart. Uses facebook to share pictures of visitors to her yard, post old memes directly to people’s walls, and like Every Selfie before inquiring after the person depicted on the public comments. Thinks she’s the wine mom when she’s actually the tea granny, and her big social excursions are usually with her bridge group/the Greater Vic Committee.

- Loves to cook with stuff she grows herself and always has herbs at the ready, though she’s quite particular about who she cooks for or takes out for dinner. Also has a serious sweet tooth when it comes to tea time and candy/chocolates.

- She can actually be a little reserved when it comes to hospitality at times even though she’s extremely friendly and outgoing. Doesn’t actually like people staying in her house for extended periods free of charge... remember that BC stands for Bring Cash. That said, she will absolutely be over-generous with weed and offer a complete stranger a joint five minutes after chatting with them.

- Will talk with you, unsolicited, about anything. Friendly to the point that a quiet brusque prairie person like me will be totally caught off guard. Will continue talking as you’re trying to bike up a 45 degree angle.

- Her manner in some cases can come across as overly blunt or even imperious in that I’m Old So Of Course I Know Better Way and condescending without actually realizing it (”I was cleaning out my attic and found these old photographs I took- they are not the best photos but I’m sure they’ll be adequate to decorate your house”).

- Despite maturity beyond her years, she’s actually got a really good grasp on cool/retro trends and interesting food. While she does tie into the generic maple-washed Canadiana that tourists expect, she’s also very good at putting her own flair on things and emphasizing her own interests (ex. especially comics and games).

- Really into old cars and trucks. Like it’s kind of worrying but considering all the retired people she lives with and the cost of driving to the mainland via BC Ferries (which she h a t e s), it kind of makes sense. A collector.

- Staying out past 9 pm on a weekend is kind of a big deal for her. Also never goes Anywhere in a hurry. So chill and laid back about Everything (but will launch into a passionate rant about how invasive species are actually Necessary Okay or When Will The Deer Stop Eating My Plants?!) no matter how high she is.

- Regardless of how she identifies herself, Vic is extremely queer friendly. Romance of any orientation absolutely warms her heart and she has a particularly strong trans community and archive. She can perhaps be a little nosy about things, but can be really accepting despite her old/conservative stereotype.

- Her favourite holiday (perhaps next to Victoria Day) is Christmas. She goes ALL OUT on lights and decorations every year.

- While she might be more famous for her penchant for yoga and paddleboarding or sailing and other such individual and relaxed recreational activities, she did beat the Montreal Canadiens for the Stanley Cup before the NHL even formed. Not that she brags, but she does carry a lot of smugness around with her and that’s just one more thing to be smug about.

- Has an umbrella and KNOWS how to use it as both shield and sword. Have at thee, weather and disreputable politicians! Also will absolutely defend an oak tree in her yard with firearms.

Perhaps more will be added later but that’s what I think of.

#projectcanada cities #pc: victoria #hapo rambles #hapo reads canadian history #pc headcanon

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bubblegumstardust · 6 years

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getting to know this loser

the angel that is @youvebeenwinchesterd tagged me in this so thank you my dear!

nickname: my name is 3 letters long, i am unnicknamable

gender: female

star sign: virgo

height: hobbit sized at 5′2

time: like half past 1 in the morning....wait how and when did that happen?

birthday: 9th September

favourite bands: erm All Time Low, Muse, You Me At Six, 5 Seconds of Summer, Little Mix, Fall Out Boy probs, Imagine Dragons, is that it? i think that might be it

favourite solo artists: i don’t really know, i tend to listen to just random songs rather than specific artists but i guess Bruno Mars, Demi Lovato, Ed Sheeran, Meghan Trainor (judge me all you like, shes made some bops), maybe George Ezra and Shaun Mendes?

song that’s suck in your head: Girls by Rita Ora, Youngblood by 5SOS, Solo by Clean Bandit and Demi Lovato

last movie: shit...when was the last time i watched a movie? might’ve been the Death Cure, might have been Solo, might’ve been something else, who knows?

last tv show: honestly it was probably just Mock the Week in the background while i was writing

why did you create this blog: well originally it was because my old blog was a mess and this was meant to be for me to exclusively post fandom stuff and more specifically bookish things....yeah that worked out well

what do you post/reblog: literally like anything, book stuff, fandom stuff, memes, reading threads where i share my thoughts and reactions as i actually read rather than after, some reviews but like they’re so much effort i hardly do them anymore

last thing you googled: Royal Mail Tracking because i’m trying to figure out how long it’ll be until Michelle gets her belated birthday present

other blogs: @writinginstardust (for the writings and aesthetic) @stardustfireheart (the original mess)

why the url: to link to my old blog, the stardust bit is a) because i love space and it sounds pretty and b) because it’s Jyn’s nickname in Rogue One and I adore that movie, the book nerd bit because a) this was kinda meant to be a mostly book blog and b) i’m a giant fucking nerd

I follow: 277 blogs

followers: 237 followers

lucky number: i don’t have one really but i like 37 idk the look of it just gives good vibes for me so id say thats like my favourite number

instruments: i learned the guitar for a while as a kid but like my hands were and still are too small to comfortably play some chords or do some of the movements which is part of the reason i gave up, i also like can kinda play piano stuff but not well

what are you wearing: this:

the question should be why am i not wearing comfy-ass pyjamas? and the answer is no idea but here we are

dream job: film director, author, owning a bakery/coffee shop somewhere nice, travel photographer

last book you read: last one i finished was something called the wedding date (some cheesy contemporary romance i thought might be a giggle) and then im now reading Percy Jackson and the Titan’s Curse

top 3 universes: Illuminae (some of it’s horrifying but Nik and Ezra and Kady and Hannah live in that universe and like yes please!), the Grishaverse is also pretty awesome and if they a) had wifi and b) wasn’t so damn dangerous then Middle Earth

tagging: okay so like i would totally tag people but i’m like way too tired so like if i normally tag you in this type stuff then you’re tagged and if you wanna do it then you’re also tagged!

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