𓆏🍄🌱☄️ @lunavastro - Tumblr Blog

"backstage at a live event" is perhaps my favourite human collective emotion ive ever experienced. From running through the creepy empty school hallways before a theatre show, to the staff only breakroom at a convention or event where youre running a stall, to the bridal suite getting ready before your bestie walks down the isle.

Theres a little wall between the guys who are 'in on it' with you, whatever it is, and your audience or customers or guests or just all those people who are *not* in on it. Youve got a wallkie talkie, or a backstage pass, or an exhibitor badge, and youve never felt more alive

#this is why retail work is so addictive

annabelle--cane

it's rotten work. especially to me especially if it's you. I'll fucking do it but christ alive.

ksntoast

Scenes from the naruto retsuden novel <3

pantamonte

cannibal-stag

hannibal is so cringefail because how do you successfully get away with literal murder and cannibalism for years all while being a well respected sophisticate and food connoisseur and then risk it all for a guy covered in dog hair who is also an asshole and also wants to kill you real bad

tophuukiey

There's a wicked production somewhere where Elphaba kisses Glinda on the cheek sometime in act 2... And because I can't find it anymore I sketched it 🥹

hannibard

Behind every gay person is a gayer, more evil gay person, and a little off to the side is a social worker inside a horse.

wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt

When their entire relationship is toxic, but they're both so fucked up that it's actually the best case scenario, because subjecting anybody else to either of them would be a human rights violation.

lunavastro

u think siri is short for serious

sadpicturesques

i don't think that. don't tell me what I think ever again.

#replies that makes a post funnier

why so siri (another way of saying serious)

lastflowerofyourhouse

the locked tomb series is really like. maybe love doesn't conquer all. maybe love is not pure and good and holy. maybe love is not a white dove come to save you from yourself. maybe it won't fix you. maybe it'll make everything worse. maybe love is dirty and ugly and terrifying and awful. maybe it'll kill you. maybe it'll warp you into something unrecognizable. maybe love is a parasite and by the time you realize it's there, it's too late to tear it out of you, no matter how badly you might want to. maybe it's a cordiceps fungus, tangled up in your nerves, making you do things you'd never ordinarily do. maybe love is a dog with its jaw locked on your arm. maybe love is an angry ghost. maybe love is a brain hemorrhage, a seizure, two weeks of sleeplessness and cracking open your own tibia unanesthetized in a bathroom. maybe it's the ocean you'll drown in. maybe it's poison. maybe it's scary and filthy and difficult and bad for you.

so what now? are you going to stop? are you even going to try?

no. of course you aren't.