Everything was done to patch the great void

Hacks fan/ theatre producer/ 45/ Athens, Greece/ https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblivioustotheslaughter

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

Of all the organs in the human body, they say only the heart betrays you. Not the liver. Not the kidneys. The pancreas, the spleen, the lungs, the stomach, the intestines, the skin, the brain. No. Only the heart. And it doesn’t even ask for thirty pieces of silver, nor anything at all. It just stops. As if it simply ceases to believe.

Keep believing heart because ultimately always, for all eternity, the victory will be yours.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

You were born, and we feasted on the sky

If only a gentle rain would fall right now. A worldwide, gentle rain. Falling upon the hot, grieving concrete. Like a mother’s kiss on the forehead of a child burning with fever and suffering. If only it would begin softly now, weaving between our tired breaths, and fall until the morning. To put out all the fires. Even the ones yet to come. Because fires will come, and we know it. And then we will be eating ash with a knife and fork from empty plates. If only it could be heard against all the leaves that are missing from this rigid city. And above all, right in the deep center of our dreams. And if only, with its coming and its passing, it would give birth to a cool breeze. A worldwide, infinite coolness. Just so we can make it through this summer too. So we don’t snap like dry twigs.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

The art of the maximum effort: the refusal of the à la carte.

Everything I understand to be passion, love, friendship, everything culturally sculpted inside me, must be hammered into a new mold. The reality worships the à la carte. Tolerates the family, the solitary individual, the couple, only as an à la carte arrangement. The single person must be like that. The couple must be like that. The family must be like that. Desires must be like that—like the rain, daily threatening to drown out the possibility of any other desire ever drying. Life will unfold like that, it will run its course and be programmed for the coming years exactly like that. Because that's just how it is. We will not break out of the molds—just like that. We will not attempt to accept anything that deviates from the routine, or anything that asks something more of us—just like that. But if I demand something else, if I bleed to claim a coexistence that refuses the à la carte—then... how else?

The present is the only salvation, the only certainty, the only thing worth loving—whatever brought us here is already breathing inside us. I wrote this yesterday to someone. To love the current condition with raw bravery, to hold companionship with fierce dignity—this love is the single exit strategy in an environment that denies the logic of what actually exists. It is the present we are duty-bound to inhabit, the present we must march with. Millions of people have no future at all. For those of us granted the luxury of a future thought and a measured hope, we owe it to live our now to the absolute brim, cultivating the tomorrow we are deemed worthy to see.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

Our words are the children of so many people. These are the children born of you, perfect human across the pond:

Tenderology

Softology

Chronology

you are amazing -ology

Agonology

The present is the only salvation, the only certainty, the only beloved thing -

Unconditional -ology

Surrenderology

Absence-ology

-whatever led to it is already alive inside us

womanology

brave-ology

You aren't too much. The brightest stars always burn with the deepest intensity, it is a rare thing and it should be treasured.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Joel finds out that his girlfriend, Clementine, has had him erased from her memories and decides to do the same. During the procedure, he realizes that he still loves her deeply.

Recently, during a conversation with a person i like and admire, I was reminded of this movie. I had seen it twenty years ago.

Filled with lines like:

I could die right now, Clem. I'm just... happy. I've never felt that before. I'm just exactly where I want to be.

What a loss to spend that much time with someone, only to find out that she's a stranger.

You don't tell me things, Joel. I'm an open book. I tell you everything, every damn, embarrassing thing.

Clementine: You know me, I'm impulsive.

Joel: That's what I love about you.

Clem. If you wanna be with me, be with me…

Joel: I still thought you were gonna save my life... even after that.

Clementine: Ohhh... I know.

Joel: It would be different, if we could just give it another go-round.

Clementine: Remember me. Try your best; maybe we can.

Adults are a mess of sadness and phobias (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) - Quotes - IMDb)

A wonderful film, i watched it again.

All of this—absolutely all of it—requires understanding, appreciation, and love. Understanding comes first. And understanding cannot be fragmented, you do not understand a person through isolated words, through a few detached conversations.

We cannot constantly be on the defensive or the offensive, guarding ourselves against the people who love us. We are who we are, and we seek mutuality, unreserved emotions, love, and an open heart. Tenderness and understanding.

To know a person, you have to truly experience them. Otherwise, this entire tangled ball of sorrows, phobias, accumulated relational deceptions, and expectations blocks true connection. And true connection is the very foundation of appreciation and love. That is why the two lovers in the film say, "I want to know you." Ultimately, it seems they wanted to "erase" each other because they were transforming through that love, changing... and they were terrified of that change. Because for the "us" to exist, the "I" and the "you" had to be kneaded together through friction and otherness. And then, "erased," they discover each other all over again. Properly... this time. With forgiveness and with love.

And they listen together to the words they said before the erasure, and they cry, and they understand, and they are completely honest. And they simply say, "and change your heart, look around you… Ι need your loving, like the sunshine".

This era or the confines of myself does not help me … but I try to be the poet, infusing life with lyricism. A life that can either be a mere repetition of trauma, or… the experience of a miracle.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

As though it were a farce or a childhood game, or a turn of fate at a blind spot—the tires screeching sideways, the emergency brake ripped up—someone was left abandoned-maybe it was me? Just a whistle, and a harmonica, like the ones we used to play when we were little. And at times there are words, and at times there is silence. The turn is blind; nothing prepares you. And afterward, you are afraid, and you hope, and you fall silent, and you shiver with cold right in the middle of a heatwave, walking in the footsteps, tracing the tracks. A sudden chill. And you always put on your seatbelt now, imagining that every single turn is a blind one. But they are not. On the old roads, where the dreams have already faded into memories. But where we must still find a way to dream. In the tears, but in the love as well. In the hope of love. Even as you leave "the noise and the crowds" behind. Three times I heard that song, fatefully, in Thessaloniki, played by a young man with a guitar. You magnificent bastard. "And I will write you little songs, with the most beautiful words in the refrain." Three times—and I never once denied you.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

Ava's guest room scene

This is a continuation of the bathroom scene

Post by @oblivioustotheslaughter

💬 5  🔁 0  ❤️ 11 · A bathroom scene (4*1 mirror) ·  Deborah stepped into the bathroom. The estate had thirty-seven rooms and eighteen bathro

Ava stormed into the guest room, completely nonchalant, knowing damn well Deborah was following her. She could hear her feet stomping the ground behind her, the heavy, furious rhythm of a woman who had completely lost her grip.

They are standing now, right in front of the bed. The door is wide open. The hallway is completely exposed, meaning absolutely anyone in the house can hear them talking—screaming—at each other. Deborah is burning from the inside out; she is so consumed by the heat in her chest that she couldn't care less who is listening.

She had followed Ava here after Ava cornered her in the bathroom. The words are screaming in the back of Deborah's throat. She wants to spit them in Ava's face: I DON’T FUCK PUPPIES. I ONLY FUCK ALPHA DOGS. GET THAT INTO YOUR FUCKING HEAD.

But, like anyone who has ever reached a turning point in their life, standing on the precipice of facing an absolute truth about themselves, her voice fails her. The defense mechanisms short-circuit. Instead of the venomous insult she planned, she just says

"Well... ok. Ok, Ava? Ava? I am... begging you," Deborah whispered, her voice fracturing. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she tried to touch Ava’s arm.

Ava shrugged her off with a cold motion. "You don’t beg enough," she said, her expression hardening into something genuinely cruel. She leaned in slightly, dragging out the final words "Beg h a r d e r."

Deborah’s fierce, unyielding pride flared. Her posture instantly corrected itself; she was on the verge of scoffing, her eyes narrowing to deliver the kind of diminishing look that had leveled rooms for decades.

"It’s beneath me," Deborah hissed. Her eyes were poisoned, yet deeply hurt. "You... are beneath me."

Ava didn't flinch. Instead, she closed the distance, stepping so deep into Deborah that the tips of their noses were almost touching. Ava looked down into her eyes, her voice dropping into a soft, calm register.

"I won't say it again," Ava said softly. "Get on your knees and beg. That is a FUCKING ORDER."

Deborah’s chest heaved, rising and falling at an incomprehensible, erratic pace. Her heart rate was so intense, so violent, that the sound of it began to echo directly inside her ears. Thud. Thud. Thud. The relentless hammering in her chest made her dizzy, the lack of oxygen turning the edges of the room dark.

Deep down, a wild, frantic urge took hold of her—she wanted to kneel. She wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She wanted to completely degrade herself, to tear down her own image until she was nothing but a tattered useless rag, entirely undone at Ava's feet. She wanted to beg for the one thing she had never known how to ask for properly. She wanted to become so incredibly small that she could fit inside the back pocket of Ava’s jeans.

But forty years of absolute power kept her spine rigid. The massive architectural system she had built around herself—the perfect scaffolding that could have held up the fucking Empire State Building—stood between her and the floor.

And yet, that entire empire was suddenly ready to become nothing more than a piece of scrap paper thrown into the gutter.

She squeezed her eyes shut. One. Two. Three. Jump, she told herself. Just jump.

Her knees hit the floor.

She reached out blindly, her hands gripping Ava's knees to anchor herself. She lifted her head, forcing her face upward, and looked directly into Ava’s eyes.

"Please," Deborah choked out, her pride completely. "I'm begging you. I'm …."

Ava’s gaze instantly softened, the cruelty melting away to reveal satisfied warmth. She slowly lowered her body over Deborah’s upturned face, reaching down with one hand to firmly grab Deborah's jaw and mouth, the absolute force of her grip crumpling Deborah's lips like rolling cigarette paper.

"See?" Ava whispered, a small smile breaking across her lips. "That wasn't so hard after all."

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

coated with fish oil and honey and sat in the dirtiest and smelliest public toilet in China - Zhang Huan (1994)

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

the only path to the soul is through the beautiful, agonizing filth of the body

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

If I were the one sitting across from Madonna for the interview:

** what do you do when your cunt has become a cultural institution?

** What is it like to have given birth to so many queer lives without ever having met your children?

** Do you miss the era when a scandal required a body, sweat, paper, a magazine, a VHS tape, and actual fear - rather than just a comment under a fucking photograph?

** How much Catholic guilt does it take to be you?

it is us, your old faithful disciples, who still search within your images for that first permission to exist a little dirtier, a little freer, a little more uncorrected

The Madonna Interview

For our Summer 2026 cover story, Mel Ottenberg meets his maker.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

I killed my mother (2009)

Mother: What would you do if I died today?

Son: I would die tomorrow

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

"Home was us. It was you and me, together in that stupid car, riding around, smoking cigarettes"

The Killing

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

For you never were, and thus, forever a child you shall remain.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

Let's play a game: Deborah and Ava are in Paris, pull up to Place Vendôme, and come face-to-face with Paul McCarthy’s 2014 "Tree" sculpture (aka the giant green butt plug). What's the bit? Drop your best captions below 🎤

[thefandomsarespooky]

HACKS: Ava Daniels x Deborah Vance

“…And then I met you, and I didn’t need them so much anymore.” “Well, makes sense…I’m your number one fan.”

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

Damage (film 1992) x Hacks crossover fic

I have an insane idea for a Damage (film 1992) x Hacks crossover fic. In the movie, Juliette Binoche falls in love with and fucks her much older father-in-law (Jeremy Irons) and wrecks his life to the core. The mother-in-law is strawberry ice cream, so the father-in-law went straight for the cocaine, if you get me.

So Deborah doesn't have a daughter; instead, she has a son, and he brings Ava home as his fiancée and Deborah's future daughter-in-law.

Ava’s fiancé (Deborah’s son) is perfectly nice, incredibly stable, and entirely boring. Maybe he is a successful corporate lawyer or a real estate developer. He loves Ava because she is his "wild card," but he fundamentally does not understand her darkness or her drive. He is safe, right?

The son brings Ava to the massive Vegas estate for a formal family dinner. He expects his intimidating, legendary mother to tear his indie-writer fiancée apart. Instead, the moment Deborah and Ava lock eyes across the dining table, the atmosphere changes. They immediately start verbally sparring. The son thinks they are fighting, but they are actually flirting. They recognize themselves in each other.

They are under the same roof, playing the perfect family roles during the day, but the nights become dangerous. The tension snaps when they are left alone—maybe the son goes out of town for business, or maybe they are just alone in the dark kitchen at 3:00 AM. Once they cross that line, it becomes a destructive addiction. They know it will detonate the entire family, but they literally cannot stop themselves.

Ava ruins her safe future, and Deborah destroys her relationship with her son and is left completely alone and destroyed. The tragedy is that neither of them regrets the affair because the pull was simply too strong to resist. And here is the end scene (picture instead Deborah and Ava) ->

[fufatronic]

call me weird or perverted all you want but i just love how pussy smells. there is genuinely nothing more hot or seductive than that.

[oblivioustotheslaughter]

abso fucking lutely