#offensive to british people probably

[idyat]

Woopdiedoo it's a Chopper Dave meme

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

being on this website right now is just like im being so brave by blacklisting the tags for a new movie thats very popular right now and not responding to any of the gifsets i still see of it with what is rightful criticism of it for being tone-deaf

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

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[formulawolff]

vii. the in-between - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 5.2k

warnings: buckle up y’all cause we go. angst, cursing, size kink, edging, praise kink, FUCKING, LOTS OF FUCKING. toto being a simp, banter, yearning, mentions of divorce, mentions of alcohol use, creampie, teasing, yadayadayada… y’all know what’s about to go down

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“it’s fine, mom. really.” 

bringing a hand to your temple, you begin to massage, attempting to alleviate the accumulated pressure. 

“i mean, yeah, i’m not in trouble or anything. as far as i know, the fia is letting me race in suzuka. it was my first offense so they dropped the investigation. as long as i publicly apologize for my actions, everything will be cleared up.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

do you know how many people have asked me about you? baby, people approach me at the goddamn grocery store asking me why you beat up that poor little british boy! he’s built like a twig for god’s sake! 

rolling your eyes, you lean back in your chair, keeping the phone pressed against your ear, “mom, his name is george russell. he drives for mercedes. he’s not some little boy.” 

all right, all right. well maybe he needs to come over for some dinner or something. get some meat on those bones. anyway, did i tell you that your father has been scouring ebay trying to purchase sports cards with your car on it? well, he’s found ones with you on them too. he wants to make a booklet of his favorite kiddo. 

with that discovery, your heart swells, “is he really? tell him to look up topps chrome cards. those are the best ones. since i’m not as popular as max or lewis, they should be pretty cheap. and mom, i’m your only kiddo.” 

that’s why we’re so proud of you. even if you get into fist fights, we still love you bunches. when do you think you’ll come home? your dad wants to take you out in his baby. he’s made some modifications to it. he thinks you’ll appreciate it more than i will. 

“where is dad? is he asleep?” 

yes honey. he’s asleep. snoring away on the couch with the dogs. i wish we could give you a taste of home somehow. maybe i could have a care package sent to japan? 

“mom,” you exhale, “that would be so much money. don’t worry about it. were you guys considering flying out for miami?” 

oh yes, about that! you perk up in your chair, anticipating your mom’s response. we are going to be there. we can’t wait to see you. we miss you so much. it’s so quiet when you’re not home. will i be able to meet some of your coworkers? 

letting you a giggle, you shake your head, “mom. they’re my fellow drivers. we’re not coworkers. but yeah, i could probably introduce you to a few of them. daniel wants to meet you two.” 

what about that handsome fellow with the bright blue eyes? he drives for redbull! and yes, i would love to meet daniel. 

“max verstappen?” you arch a brow, “we’d have to see about that one. he’s a very busy man.” 

okay, okay. the line cuts out briefly. hey honey, i think i need to head to bed. i love you so much. keep in touch, okay? we’ll see you in a few short weeks. 

nibbling on your lower lip, you nod, “i love you too, mom. tell dad i love him. i miss you guys. i can’t wait to see you.” 

me either. goodnight honey, or good morning or afternoon or whatever time it is over there. i’ll text you when i wake up! love you. 

“love you,” your lip trembles, hands clamming up as you the line goes silent. 

fuck, were you homesick. 

you just had to make it a few more weeks. then, you could finally reunite with your parents in miami. although you knew you would be so fucking busy, you would make time. 

you always did when it came to your parents. 

also, you had another plan brewing as you scroll through your contact list, searching for a certain dutch assassin. a certain dutch man who happened to be a three-time world champion. 

somehow, someway, your mom was going to meet max verstappen. 

you had to make that happen. 

you had to. 

currently, you were sitting on the edge of a bed in a suite in london, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your driver. a decently-sized suitcase sat near the door, a carry-on stacked on top. 

this driver was provided specific instructions to transport you from london to brackley, dropping you off at the door of a certain team principal’s home. 

yet, you were well aware that it wasn’t going to be just any old home. 

this man was billionaire, after all. 

buzzing in your grasp, your phone notifies you of a new text. 

from none other than toto wolff. 

the driver is on the elevator, heading up towards your suite. DO NOT handle your bags. he will do that for you. i don’t want you to fuss over a single thing. from there, he will bring you here, where he will punch in the code for the gate. i will be waiting for you at the door. 

i can’t wait to see you, schatzi. i miss your beautiful face and sweet laughter. 

oh, and i can’t wait to kiss you. 

(and yes, i am pacing around in my office as i type this. i can’t focus on anything else but your arrival) 

with sazuka quickly approaching next week, you would only have a couple of days with the team principal before you had to part ways. he would have prep, meetings, press, where he would then fly out to sazuka. meanwhile, you would have to catch a flight, meet with your team, prep, and potentially meet with press, fans, and the other drivers. 

additionally, you had to address the incident that occurred last week at the australian grand prix. to your surprise, the fia had dismissed the investigation, finding no substantial evidence that the two of you needed to be punished. due to the nature of the accident, george was not punished, as he did no illegal maneuvers or intentionally attempted to take you out of the race. 

on the other hand, the fia was adamant that if this happened again, you were going to face consequences. you would have to shell out a pretty penny for fines, and then you would be immediately disqualified from three future races, deeming you unable to participate.

although they were merciful, the fia made it very clear that since it was your first offense, they were going to be fair.. 

however, if there was a next time, they would not be so kind. 

a crisp knock rang out, startling you. 

springing to your feet, you open the door, an older man smiling in greeting. 

“you must be golden girl,” sticking out his right hand, he dips his head, “i’m theodore. i’ll be your driver to brackley this evening. i am here to not only be your escort, but to tend to anything you may need. mr. wolff made it very clear that you were not to fret over a single thing.”

“good morning,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile as you shake his hand, “thank you. i’m eager to see the english countryside.”

“i’ll handle your bags ma’am,” theodore clears his throat, “you just take it easy.”

“will do,” you nod, “how long is the drive?”

“about an hour and a half,” theodore responds curtly, slinging your carry-on around his shoulder, “don’t worry, it’s not too boring. follow me this way, my lady. our chariot awaits!”

following him down the hall, he presses the button for the elevator. there’s a silence between you, but not an uncomfortable one. theodore’s presence was warm, inviting even.

upon meeting him, you understood why he was toto’s right-hand driver. once he escorted you to the car, he opens the door for you, ushering you inside. when you settle into the backseat, you notice the glint of a redbull can, along with your favorite snacks and candy. 

“mr. wolff wanted to ensure you wouldn’t be hungry,” theodore states as he climbs into the driver’s seat, pressing the button for the ignition, “he told me that you can be a little cranky if you don’t have any snacks.”

“oh? he said that?” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “did he say anything else about me?”

“oh yes,” theodore chuckles, turning the gear shift, “he’s told me all about you. to be quite frank, he hasn’t shut up about you the last week or so.”

“so you know who i am?”

“of course i do,” theodore nods, flashing you a grin in the rearview mirror, “you’re one of the best formula one drivers on the grid. you drive for williams racing. you’ve only won one grand prix, but i believe you’ll win a few more this season. your hometown is in yuma, arizona. you’re twenty-two years old, and from what toto has shared with me, you have a very bright future ahead.”

“are you a formula one fan?” you arch a brow, punching open the can of redbull. 

“who isn’t?” he shrugs, “well, ms. golden girl, we are going to begin our journey. if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to speak up. if you’d like, you can tell me a little bit more about yourself. we will have plenty of time.”

as theodore promised, the drive to brackley was painless. yet, as the car pulls up to the gate, your heart skips a beat.

this was no quaint english cottage.

toto’s brackley residence was a sleek and sprawling two-story home, a black and white exterior with massive, thick windows. your jaw almost drops, and theodore notices, letting out a hearty laugh, “don’t act so shocked, golden girl. i’m sure you’re aware toto is a very wealthy man.”

“i thought he would have kept things somewhat simple.”

“oh love,” theodore shakes his head, “you and i both know that toto is anything but simple.”

rolling down the window, theodore punches in a code, the gate sliding open. as the car lurches up the drive, your heart thumps in your rib-cage, blood roaring in your ears. 

this was really happening. 

you were really staying with toto. 

“nervous?” theodore senses the shift in energy, “you have no reason to be nervous. he’s been anticipating your arrival. he’ll be happy to see you.”

“thank you,” you manage to muster a meek smile, “i-i just didn’t think we would get this far.”

“well savor the time together. time flies, especially in our world. one day you’re at a track, the next you’re in another country. he adores you, golden girl. so don’t you fret about that. just relax, and enjoy your time. i will be here in a couple of days to bring you to the airport for your departure to sazuka.” 

“thank you,” at his words, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “i look forward to our next drive together!”

“as do i,” shifting the gears, theodore puts the car in park, slipping out of the driver’s seat, “we have arrived. let me get your bags.”

he strolls over to your door, opening it as you clamber out, stretching your sore legs.

no matter how much time you spent in a car, there was always that persisting stiffness. 

you’d probably need a double-knee replacement by the time you were forty, but that was the least of your worries. 

out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure strolling towards the car. with the large stature, you knew it could only be one particular individual. 

he’s dressed in a royal blue button-up, paired with khaki slacks. on his feet are earth-toned dress shoes. the blue hue of the button-up complements his dark hair, almost brightening his features, giving them a youthful glow. tufts of his hair are all over as the wind blows. 

yet, he looks as gorgeous as ever, his toned muscles rippling under the thin fabric of the button-up. 

“welcome to brackley schatzi,” the grin enveloping his face is radiant, “i hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“not at all,” you shake your head, the team principal nearly sucking the wind out of your lungs as he wraps his arms around you, squishing you against his chest. 

“i missed you so much,” tender lips connect with your cheek, “good afternoon, theo! did she behave herself?”

“of course,” theodore promptly places your bag next to the entrance, suitcase in tow, “i have another commitment here soon, mr. wolff. i hope it is all right i placed her bags next to the door?” 

“don’t worry about it,” toto’s fingers find yours, intertwining them together, “i’ll get them. please drive safe, theo.”

“i will, mr. wolff,” theodore dips his head, turning to you, he takes your hand, shaking it, “it was lovely to meet you. i look forward to our next meeting, golden girl. enjoy your time together, you two!”

“we will,” toto squeezes your hand, “goodbye, theo.”

“goodbye, mr. wolff!” theodore spins on his heel, making his way to the car, “behave, you two!”

in response, toto gives a thumbs up, theodore slipping back into the driver’s seat. as he peels off, toto shifts his body, facing you.

“charming, isn’t he?”

“he’s great! kept me entertained the whole drive!”

“i told him you have a short attention span so to keep you occupied,” toto shooks you a wink, earning an eye roll. 

“i can’t stand you.”

“you’re standing right now, aren’t you?” his chuckle is light, “come, let’s head on in. i have lunch waiting for us.”

“you made me lunch?” 

“yes, i’m going to drive you all the way out here just so starve you,” he scoffs, yet his tone says otherwise, “i have food ready. and wine, if you want some.”

“don’t tell me you want to get me drunk so i’ll confess all my secrets.”

“consider that my new goal for the afternoon,” toto grabs your bag, along with your suitcase. pushing open the door, he clears his throat, “welcome to my home away from home.”

as you step in the entrance, your eyes widen, lips parting.  

the space was truly a reflection of toto. refined and elegant, with a hints of charm. the marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, rays of sun shining through the vast windows. the walls were covered in a menagerie of decor, from pieces of art to mercedes memorabilia. it was not the typical billionaire’s home, where the air felt sterile and cold. 

this place was warm and full of life, coaxing you to stay. 

“cat got your tongue?” his breath fans against your ear, a hand gliding along your back, “follow me, schatzi.”

“your home is beautiful.”

glancing over his shoulder, you are met with his gorgeous smile, dimples and all, “thank you, love. i’m glad you like it.”

trailing behind the austrian, you stroll down a long hallway, turning into the last room on the left. toto places your bag and suitcase next to a glass door, “this is my bedroom. you’ll be staying here with me.”

“straight to the bedroom huh?” you fold your arms across your chest, teasing, “you just couldn’t wait–”

“come here,” toto growls, hands grasping your wrists, bringing you in, “no, i can’t wait.”

looking up, you match his gaze, cocking your head, “what are you going to do about it?”

at your rebuttal, toto’s eyes narrow, “what do you think i’m going to do?”

“fuck me.”

“hmmmm,” he hums, leaning in, “you’re right, schatzi. i am going to fuck you. i’m going to fuck you till you’re weeping me for me to stop.”

“weeping?” your hands roam, tugging on his button-up, “i’d like to see you try.”

“oh schatzi,” he tsks, “you don’t know what you’re in for.”

“show me then.”

“i will,” lips ghost over yours, “i’ll show you how badly i missed you baby.”

as he kisses you, it’s tender at first, brimmed with the sweetness of reunion. one of his hands wraps around the base of your neck, tilting your head back as his tongue gains access to your mouth, the tang of redbull tracing your mouth. yet, as you whimper, a fiery hunger sets ablaze.

fuck, he missed you. 

he missed you more than he liked to admit.

tension hangs thick, clouding the space as his mouth places sloppy, wet kisses down your jawline, finding your neck. nipping gently, it takes every fiber in his being to resist the urge to just mark you all over. to leave marks where they could see. to make them wonder who was doing this to you.

but he couldn’t. not there. 

in response, your hips buck forward, grinding against his. toto groans, his head rolling back. 

there was not a single coherent thought in his mind. 

only lust. and fuck, was it consuming him whole. 

scooping you into his arms, he brings you over to the bed, your back meeting with the plush mattress. 

“i can’t wait,” he pants, chest heaving, “i can’t wait any longer. i need you.”

“then take me,” your words drip like honey, oh so sweet, “make me yours, toto.”

jesus fucking christ.

he was going to fuck the shit out of you. right here, right now.

there was no going back. 

he ached for it. he yearned for it. the fantasy flooded his dreams at night.

the things he wanted to do to you? 

downright filthy. sinful, even 

he couldn’t lose his inhibitions. not yet. he had to hang on. 

however, at this point, toto was hanging on by a thread. 

peeling your leggings and panties off, he tosses them to the floor, “sit up.”

you obey, nearly trembling with anticipation as fingertips hook the hem of your crewneck, pulling it over your head. nimbly, he hovers over you, finding the clasps of your bra. he undoes them, a crimson hue dusting his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you completely naked beneath him. 

god, you were absolutely breathtaking. 

every inch of you was stunning. every scar. every mole. every freckle. every stretch mark. 

you were so fucking beautiful. 

his hands fly to his button-up, eager for what was to come. 

yet, your hands find his, “let me.”

toto bites his tongue as you carefully undo the buttons of his shirt, his cock twitching, aching for your touch as your fingers delve towards his belt. you unbuckle it, tilting your head back, batting your thick lashes.

fuck. fuck. fuck. 

could this moment last forever? 

“toto.”

“yes?”

“i-i don’t know if i can take it all,” there’s apprehension inflected in your tone, almost as if you were embarrassed, “to be honest, i’ve never–”

oh god. 

this was going to ruin him.

just like he was going to ruin you.

“don’t worry,” a tender hand cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “i’ll go slow. i won’t make you take it all. i’ll take care of you baby, i promise.”

you nod, lips pursed as you tug on his slacks, hooking the hem of his boxers, “you’re just so fucking big. like holy shit.”

pride swells within the austrian for a moment, a chuckle rumbling in his chest, “i promise you that it’s not as big as you think.”

“can i see for myself?” the question is so innocent, so pure. 

yeah, he was going to ruin you.

he was going to make a mess out of you. 

“lay down schatzi,” he orders, authority oozing into the words. 

kicking off his slacks, he curses slightly as his boxers stick around one of his ankles. this wasn’t going to be perfect, but he wanted it to be. for you. 

he wanted this to be a moment you remembered for the rest of your life. he wanted this memory to fill your thoughts every second of every day. he wanted you to touch yourself to this, desperate and oh so wet, throbbing for him. yearning for his mouth. for his touch. for him.

carefully, he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. as you look down, you can feel his gaze searing into you, burning right through. 

his cock was far bigger than your fantasies. it was thick, approximately eight or nine inches. you couldn’t tell. his tip was tinged pink, the glisten of precum catching in the light. veins wrapped around the length, throbbing as your hand wrapped around its base.

“fuck,” as he moans, you lick your lips, realizing how much you loved the sound that just filled your ears, “let me feel you, please.”

“please toto.”

swallowing thickly, he inhales sharply as he positions his tip at your entrance. applying pressure, a whimper rings out as he pushes in, your walls stretching. 

your pussy was heaven. absolutely perfect as it wrapped around his cock, begging for more as he pushed further and further. you were absolutely drenched, the juices slick and oh so sickeningly sweet. he didn’t even have to taste you to know. he just knew you were sweet. like pure ambrosia. 

perhaps he could get a taste.

“toto,” your lashes flutter, his name so perfect from your lips, “you feel–”

“your pussy is perfect,” he finds a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of your tight hole, “absolutely perfect baby. fuck, you’re perfect.”

skin connects with skin, the temperature of the room elevated as his hands found yours, pinning them to the bed. lips collide, the kisses desperate, hungry and bursting with need. as he picks up the pace, moans fill his mouth. 

fuck, it felt like he was going to split you into two. 

“t-toto,” there it was again, his name. music to his ears.

“yes baby?” a sheen of sweat clings to his forehead, tufts of hair dampened, “what is it? does it hurt? do you need me to slow down?”

“no. fuck me. just fuck me.”

oh god. 

oh, fuck. 

his cock twitches, the pleasure building in your abdomen as the tip brushes your g-spot, back arching, begging to be closer. closer to him.

could you be any closer to him in this moment? was it even possible?

before you know it, his arms wrap around your frame, picking you up off the mattress. he holds you close to his chest, one hand holding your head, cupping the back of your skull. the other remains on your lower back, gripping you tightly as the new angle sends bliss rippling all throughout your body.

he fucks you, and god there was no holding back. his cock was pounding into you now, showing no mercy. your ass slaps against his thighs, filthy noises flooding the space. 

as you bounce, you tense, your walls practically squeezing him, “toto, oh my god, i’m going–”

“good girl,” his coos, “be a good girl, baby. cum for me.”

as you get closer and closer, toto watches. fuck, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly. the way hairs clung to your forehead. the way your lashes fluttered. all he could see was pleasure. pure, intense pleasure. 

you unravel, coming undone. 

that sight alone was enough to make him cum.

“come here,” toto hisses through gritted teeth, “come here baby.”

the moment his lips mold with yours, you feel his cock throb, pumping threads of cum into your weeping hole. your muscles spasm, shuddering as he pulls out. 

the two of you study one another for a moment, catching your breath. fingertips brush stray hairs from your temple. 

“i’m sorry.”

“for?” you nuzzle into his collarbone, relishing the way his cologne lingered, mixing with his natural scent. 

“going too far.”

“that was not too far.”

tenderly, the austrian pulls you down with him, letting out a sigh as his head hits the pillow. your head remains against his chest, admiring the definition and tone for a moment. he peppers kisses along your forehead, browbone, and cheeks. 

“if i ever go too far, let me know.”

“i think we’re both in too deep,” you murmur, “you’re lucky you had the blinds drawn.” 

“that would be something,” his chest vibrates as he speaks, “could you imagine? some random mercedes intern witnessing the team principal fucking the most beautiful woman on the planet?”

however, a gleam catches your eye.

on his left ring finger, your heart sinks as you notice the ring. 

his wedding band.

toto senses your silence, the way you tensed up against him, “what is it schatzi?”

“why are you still wearing your wedding band?”

oh, so you had noticed.

“it’s complicated.”

“complicated?” your voice falters as you prop yourself up with your elbow so you could meet his gaze, “you’re wearing your fucking wedding ring. it’s not that complicated.”

“yes, i am, wearing my ring,” he exhales, “would you prefer me to take it off? it has no meaning anymore. susie and i are divorced. we finalized it last december. when we signed the papers, we made a mutual agreement to wear our wedding bands when we were in the public eye. it keeps the speculations at bay. it’s mostly for the sake of my children. and for her sake. we respect one another and i would hate for her hard work to be diminished by rumors and gossip.”

although his words were sincere, your heart races still, anxiety a swirling torrent in your stomach, “how long have you been separated?”

“almost three years. we separated in july of 2021.” 

“oh,” you suck in a breath, shame washing over you, “i-i’m sorry for the sudden questions. i just–”

“it would complicate your feelings for me. and no one wants too mess around with a married man. i get it baby, i really do.”

although he provided a very base-level explanation of his failed marriage, toto was more than willing to go into more depth. that is, if you wanted. more than anything, he wanted you to know. that aspect was becoming increasingly frustrating, as the team principal tried to maintain that dominant, bold, persona.

you were making him weak. his little soft spot. 

well, not so little these days. 

“i cannot stand how well you read me,” rolling your eyes, you turn your back to him.

“don’t turn your back on me now,” he tsks, “do you believe me, schatzi?”

“i don’t think you could ever lie to me.”

“i couldn’t,” toto leans over, placing soft kisses all over your shoulders, “i think it would destroy me. the guilt would be too much to bear.”

“if we’re spilling secrets now,” you roll over, face-to-face once again, “i have another question for you.”

“all right.”

“why did you approach james about my contract behind my back?” 

for once, the team principal is caught by surprise, his heart skipping a beat. 

the hurt plastered across your features is clear, your brows furrowed, eyes narrowed. there’s a glimmer of anguish in their depths, slightly glossy from the threat of tears. 

“i wanted to gauge how he felt if you were to leave williams,” that was the truth, really, no other intentions behind it, “he was not too keen to discuss it, but i just wanted to know how upset he would be if you were to sign with another team. i did it for you, to soften the blow.”

“soften the blow?”

“yes,” toto nods, “to soften the blow when you tell him you’re leaving williams and signing with mercedes.”

“you don’t know that for–”

“but i do,” his voice hardens, “i do know. we can’t just lay here and deny that in your heart, you want to be with me at mercedes. you’ve made the decision already. you just haven’t figured out how you’re going to approach james, alex, or your team.”

biting your tongue, you turn your head, averting his gaze.

toto was right. you had made your decision. 

it was just a matter of time before you had to face the facts. 

“i’m right, aren’t i?” 

“you are,” you huff, squeezing your eyes shut, “i-i just don’t know how to tell everyone. i don’t know how to tell my parents. i don’t know how to bring it up to james. it’s just so.. fuck. it’s so fucking overwhelming to think about.”

“then let me help you.”

“how?” you inquire, “how would you possibly do that?”

“i’ll keep my distance from here on out, but i will help you draft up a letter that you can give to james. or, i can help you practice what you’re going to say. just let me help you schatzi,” fingers grasp your chin, turning your head. 

“you hear me? i’ll help you.”

“can we just worry about it later?” 

“of course,” strong arms envelop your frame, drawing you in against his body, “for now, we can snuggle. would you like that?”

“i would.”

your tough exterior completely crumbles as his mouth hovers by your ear, murmuring words in german. desperately, you ache to know what he said. was it something important? or just sweet nothings? 

sometimes he was a difficult man to decipher.

“hey, have you opened that gift yet? the one i brought to you in jeddah?”

“no,” you admit, heat billowing into your cheeks, “i have a hard time accepting gifts.”

“clearly.”

before you can respond, he’s up from the bed, strolling over to your bags. unzipping your carry-on, he searches for that parcel. fishing it out of your bag, he sets in on the bed, sliding on his boxers before plopping it in front of you.

“open it. right now.”

“right now?” you echo, “toto, i–”

“open it.”

“fine,” nimbly, your fingers untie the bow, peeling away the wrapper. 

underneath the paper, there is a tiny velvet box. it’s long and slender, rectangular in shape.

“what is this?”

“open it and you’ll know,” toto urges, following your every move, anticipating your reaction.

opening the box, your heart swells at the sight before you.

it’s a bracelet, a dainty figaro chain, complete with a charm. the charm is an outline of the saudi arabian track. picking it up, you inspect it, noticing a date engraved on the backside of the charm. 

“how were you able to get this so quickly after the race?” 

“i have my ways,” toto bears a sheepish grin, “do you like it?”

“like it? i love it.”

well, you didn’t love it. you fucking adored it. it was perfect, and so you. it was something that you could wear everyday, a constant reminder of the years of effort to get you here. not to mention it was gorgeous, the chain shiny, freshly polished. 

a hand reaches out, plucking the chain from the box. his brows are knit together with concentration as he slips the chain around your wrist, ensuring it’s safely clasped.

“i figured it would be something you could always wear. a reminder of when you made history.”

“it’s beautiful,” sitting up, you shift your weight to your knees as you wrap your arms around his neck, “thank you, toto.”

“always, schatzi. don’t worry, i will always spoil you.”

as toto nuzzles into the crook of your neck, he was well aware of one thing.

you had made your decision. 

you hadn’t outright said it, but he knew you made your decision. 

you would be signing to mercedes for the 2025 season. 

you were finally going to be by his side every day. 

there was no more in-between. no more will she or won’t she. no more nights of him lying awake, wondering where you stood. no more driving himself insane pondering all of the possibilities that could unravel. 

he had you. 

you were all his now. 

and god, did that leave such a sweet taste in his mouth. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @joalslibrary @martwll @prettiest-at-the-party @pucksandpower @kravitzwhore @toldyouitwasamelodrama @annewithaneofthegreengable @persona1lies @zoeyjadetice2010 @whoisss @sinners-98-world

if i missed anyone, please let me know! also, you are more than welcome to be added to the taglist! thank you for reading! <3

[shadowvalkyrie]

There are a lot of things about Taskmaster that feel very... culturally British. That mixture of extreme silliness with occasionally very dark humour for example.

Or the particular tone of affectionate bullying and the way it's (mostly) taken in good humour. (And expected to be taken in good humour, even when it hits a nerve. Something that caused quite a bit of bad blood between the Brits and the Germans in my former workplace, because we generally don't shrug off insults that easily.)

But I think one difference is sort of... simmering under the surface in ways that aren't immediately obvious to international audiences (and makes me wish I was still writing uni papers, because it would be a GOLDMINE), is how much of the humour is based on the British class system.

I mean, the basic premise of "tyrannical taskmaster makes people jump through arbitrary hoops for his favour and then belittles them for doing so" is already something only an audience with a slightly monarchical bend would accept unquestioningly. Add to that the way the Taskmaster/Assistant relationship is set up... Let's just say it fetishises a social dynamic that doesn't exist in quite the same way elsewhere.

Which I think may partially explain why so many people seem to be oblivious to the D/s undertones. -- Of course it's often kink-blindness on the part of non-kinky people, but I strongly suspect it's helped along by the cultural perception of what constitutes an acceptable power differential acting as a buffer to seeing anything off about it. The threshold for when it becomes weird is different.

Now, I think (and since I'm not British, do correct me if I have it wrong!) a key part of what makes the basic premise funny to British audiences (and differently from how it's funny to international ones) is the way cultural expectations of power vs submission are subverted.

Purely based on accent? Alex is the posh one. By miles. And Greg -- very pointedly! -- doesn't do the matching Fauxbridge that most viewers would probably expect from someone presented in a position of authority (or even just a "neutral" BBC accent). It seems bizarre from a foreign point of view, but I've found that this kind of discrepancy immediately and viscerally registers with Brits. (It's uncanny how little it takes, too -- ask your favourite non-TM-aware English person to just listen to the different ways they say "taskmaster" and they will extrapolate things you cannot even imagine.) Instead of just the regional connotation, there are always implications of class and social status to an accent that are absolutely baffling to the unaware.

Add the fact that Greg Davies is from Wales, and a lot of English people have a weird colonial superiority complex towards Welsh people to this day... It's enough to make all these obvious gestures of devoted subservience from Alex very unexpected and therefore funny.

(Also notice how it adds interesting layers to Katherine Ryan buying Greg a fake lordship title? And makes it funnier in a way she may not even have fully been aware of herself, being Canadian? It's delightfully irreverent and pokes fun at the whole system.)

My guess is that this is also why the studio audience's reaction to linguistics-based jokes is always so strong. Lets take the recurring bit about Alex correcting Greg's grammar. To an international audience, the main joke is that Alex is a nerd and cares too much about grammar, with maybe a side of him being a smartarse towards his boss in a potentially ill-advised way. But to a British audience, the level of audacious insubordination implied there? Much stronger. Wildly offensive thing to do. (And a level of arrogance that is extra hilarious coming from someone shown to be sleeping in a dog bed.)

The same mechanism also puts Alex's snide little asides towards contestants with regional or "urban" accents into perspective. Offensive dick move on his part? Oh yes, extremely. But the audience is very much not supposed to be on his side in this. He's being a bigoted little bully, and either the contestants get to humiliate him in retaliation (it's certainly not a coincidence that the Welsh and Irish contestants are generally the ones having the most fun putting him in his place) or Greg calls him out on it in the studio. In a society in which Alex's brand of micro-aggression is still incredibly commonplace and accent discrimination a widely accepted default, it's actually very cathartic to see it openly acknowledged and condemned.

I mean Tumblr obviously loves Alex, because he's cute and funny and we love the Greg/Alex D/s thing (I'm definitely guilty of this as well), but we have to remember that -- in the context of the show's premise -- his character is supposed to be pathetic and ridiculous, so when Greg does the "next to me a man who once told me while drunk that he thinks regional accents are inversely correlated to intelligence" intro thing, we're meant to see it as an asshole opinion that is actually unacceptable to hold and no one in their right mind would openly admit to. So Greg is humiliating Alex by (supposedly) exposing him as someone who would spout that kind of opinion. (Same as the jokes about Alex's misogyny. I see people criticise these jokes all the time, but I think that's because they refuse to understand how the underlying mechanism actually works and take them at face value as the real Alex's actual opinion, rather than something deliberately assigned to his in-show character to make a point about them being terrible.)

[saintjosie]

i’m gonna cave and say one more thing about demilypyro because it irritates me to no end that people are accusing me of lacking reading comprehension when imo the actual issue is a tremendous lack of historical context and how out of touch people are with how absofuckinglutely devastating christianity has been to the modern world, especially for people of color.

But sure, some christians and weirdos online think trans people are icky so it's not real, probably. lol.

THIS is the part of her post i have tremendous issue with. it’s not her coping with humor. and i hope it’s obvious that i think transphobia is bad.

christians have done SO so much more harm than just thinking that queer people are icky. because before colonization happened, queerness was common and accepted, and in many cultures, even revered.

but then guess what, the roman empire happened. and then after the byzantine empire happened.

and then after that the still very much alive institutionalized catholic church rooted it’s cancer in the world.

and then after that, the british, french, spanish, portugese, german, italian, and yes, dutch (being particularly relevant, demilypyro supposedly being from the netherlands) empires happened.

and of course, we now have america.

and thus through conquest, bloodshed, and genocide, white people spread christianity to literally every corner of the world and with it, christian values of homophobia and transphobia.

as a second generation korean immigrant, first generation american, and the eldest child of a pastor, i am directly impacted and incredibly traumatized from white colonialism.

so yeah, it pissed me off more than a little bit how quick people are to accuse me of lacking reading comprehension and jumping to defend someone who made at best, a carelessly offensive and at worst, horrendously privileged comment.

if you don't have to think at least a little bit everyday how horrendously fucked up things are because of christianity, then that is an immense privilege.

i stand by what i said and i hope that more people seek to actively decolonize themselves instead of reveling in passive ignorance.

[zvaigzdelasas]

There is an overwhelming case for the UK to intervene to stop a US oil tanker carrying 300,000 barrels of jet fuel for use by Israel in Gaza from docking in Gibraltar, according to a letter from a cross-party group of MPs addressed to David Lammy, the UK foreign secretary.

Protests in Spain led by trade unionists and political activists have already resulted in the owners of the Overseas Santorini abandoning plans to dock in the Spanish port of Algeciras. According to Marine Traffic, the ship is now destined to reach Gibraltar at 3pm UK time on Tuesday.

The Gibraltar government, however, insisted it had received no formal request to dock.[...]

Campaigners said the Overseas Santorini was carrying military-grade JP-8 fuel, delivered as part of a contract with the US government, that powers F-16 fighter jets. According to a UN investigation, it was probably an F-16, which are built using UK parts, that bombed British doctors from Medical Aid for Palestinians at a compound in Gaza in January.

The MPs, including members of the Scottish Nationalists, Labour and Green parties, have urged the government to “prohibit and prevent Gibraltar being used as a haven for the transport of military fuel used in Israel’s assault on Gaza”.

The letter said: “The jet fuel will be unloaded and used to fuel the Israeli air force’s F16 and F35 that drop bombs on the people of Gaza. The 300,000 barrels of fuel are sufficient for around 12,000 F-16 refuellings.”

It added: “The case to prevent Gibraltar’s facilities from being complicit in Israel’s breaches of international law are overwhelming. Tens of thousands of Palestinians have been killed in Israel’s assault.””[...]

In May, the Spanish foreign minister, José Manuel Albares, said Spain will not authorise ships carrying weapons for Israel to call at its ports after the country refused to let a ship call at the south-eastern port of Cartagena.[...]

The campaigners said the oil is being shipped by the Valero company from Corpus Christi, Texas and is aimed to reach the port of Ashkelon in Israel. For years, these regular shipments have stopped at Algeciras and Limassol, Cyprus.

On Monday, the business secretary, Jonathan Reynolds, announced he was making a free trade agreement with Israel one of his priorities in securing trade deals. But ministers are expected shortly to announce limited restrictions on arms export licences to Israel if the arms are deemed capable of being used in Israeli offensives in Gaza.

29 Jul 24

[noneorother]

By far the dumbest movie reference no one caught in Good Omens is : The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse

I'm working on a theory that requires many hours of movie watching, so here we are. Many people have already mentioned that the nazi zombies/Furfur is a The League of Gentlemen comedy troupe shoutout. But I'm taking it one step crazier. Remember the opening scene from the 1941 minisode of S2E4, the one with the london bombing and the Angel statue in the bottom right corner ?

Haha sorry my bad. That's the climax intro scene of the movie The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse. Here's the opening scene of the 1941 minisode:

You can excuse the confusion after seeing both, with how they look pretty much identical (yes this is giving me The Tales of Hoffmann PTSD, thanks for asking) And it's not very coincidental when you know who helped write the minisode.

You know, just the fourth member of The League of Gentlemen and writer of the movie LG Apocalypse. So shall we tease out all the (I'm warning you) EXTREMELY dumb quotes and story beats this terrible movie has lent to the 1941 episode? There are quite a few. But there's also a potential story arc that isn't so dumb... (TW offensive comedy, including mild gore)

In order to understand this you probably have to know a bit of background on British show The League of Gentlemen. "[A] surreal British comedy horror sitcom... follows the lives of bizarre characters, most of whom are played by three of the show's four writers – Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton, and Reece Shearsmith – who, along with Jeremy Dyson, formed the League of Gentlemen comedy troupe in 1995." You don't need to know all of the characters or backstory of the show, just that it's a fictional town with many fictional characters played by the same three writers (and an invisible fourth).

(Also known as all these people right here) Want to know who they plays a stand-in for Jeremy Dyson in LG Apocalypse and gets murdered first with black marker on his face?

Say hello, baby Sheen!

So we've seen the bombing scene, what about the car driving through fire and Aziraphale's suggestive line at the beginning?

Yup.

Do the characters make a deal with a Reece Shearsmith character to enter the real world through a church?

HECK YEAH. Bonus points for the green background.

A gag about fake lips with Steve? Sure.

Steve Pemberton seen here as a nazi zombie, and also here playing "Herr Lipp" (also known in the actual script as "the worst pun in the world" in the movie. Groan). What about Mark Gatiss Stealing binoculars from Steve to spy on two important characters? But of course.

Surely not the arm falling off too?

Oh dang. It's a big plot point in LG Apocalypse you say? Then, in the climax, does someone in dark sunglasses who doesn't know how a rifle works fire it at a main character, and the other character who he misses says fuck? Now you're pulling off my arm..

Well I'll be damned. The only difference here being Steve's head exploding, naturally.

I'll admit, I have trouble seeing where a giant 3 headed chimera beast that destroys a bunch of characters fits in at the end of the 1941 miniode, but I don't think 1941 is meant to be a stand in for the whole movie, because at that point in the movie the role of the main characters shifts to become the real versions of Shearsmith and Gatiss, not the characters. But even though the end of the movie doesn't track with 1941, I think the moral at the end is interesting : "In the church, Lipp says he will kill Gatiss. The other characters try to dissuade him, saying that once all the writers are dead, Royston Vasey will cease to exist and they will die. Lipp claims that they will in fact be better off, because as long as they're controlled by someone else they have no free will and can never change for the better. Tipps tells Lipp that because he saved the day and can therefore change, Lipp need not kill Gatiss. He persuades Lipp to hand him the gun, only for Tipps to accidentally fire it and kill Gatiss.

With all the writers now apparently dead, the residents of Royston Vasey prepare for the worst. Instead, everything calms down and The Apocalypse is averted. The characters realise they now have free will. Herr Lipp adopts some orphaned children, the vet, Mr Chinnery, finds a rabbit and is able to take care of it without killing it, and Bernice and Pauline become romantically involved. Tipps leaves the church, waving goodbye to Edward, Tubbs and Papa Lazarou. It appears that Royston Vasey can continue to exist independently of its dead creators." This struggle for free will outside of the plan originally set out by their creators, especially in the context of said creators not really caring about them anymore, really starts sending red flags up for me. Crowley's existential crisis at the beginning of S2E1 seems to be mulling over similar themes. The lack of any God narrator as in season 1 might be a change in storytelling technique, but might also point the the creator being absent, or having moved on without really letting her original creation know it gets to exist on it's own now. Funnily enough, this is the second movie with shot for shot quotes throughout, that places a specific set of characters at the center of their own deeper plot that has a meta level to the storytelling. I'm starting to think there's a pattern here...

_______________________________________ Here's my series on the Tales of Hoffmann, another movie hidden within the series.

[titanic-angel]

нoвιe вrown х gn!reader

⇁︎a coмғorтιng anarcнιѕт↽︎

ѕynopѕιѕ: aғтer a roυgн day, yoυr 'вeѕт ғrιend' нelpѕ ѕooтнe yoυ

warnιngѕ: none

noтeѕ: jυѕ ѕυм ѕoғт lovιn- ѕнorтer тнan мy υѕυal ѕтυғғѕ вυт yĸnow ιтѕ ѕтιll ѕweeт

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

You did not cry often.

For starters, it was embarrassing. You felt childish and most of all stupid, for not being able to control your feelings. Whenever you felt that ache behind your eyes, you would try your best to breathe through it, feigning a headache or frustration to avoid someone looking into your eyes and finding tears.

Second- you felt ugly. It sounds vain but something about the way your cheeks went damp, the crinkle of your nose and the sound your mouth made when it tried to catch up with your lungs made you want to recoil out of your body.

Today however, closing your door after an exhausting day, little droplets of shame ran down your cheeks.

Training day. It was your least favorite day of the week, by far. Not only were you forced to preform in front of your peers, but you were expected to improve since the last session.

Of course, you were well versed in plenty of skills, you’d been doing your job for plenty long by now. But it was so anxiety inducing, those people watching you, that simple tasks started to feel near impossible.

You had made a fool of yourself.

Frustration tears bubbled in your lids closed tight in hopes they would simmer away for another day.

But they just kept falling.

You groaned, slipping off your shoes and flopping on the couch. Just as you closed your eyes, you heard your fridge being shut.

“Long day- yeah?”

Shit.

You knew that voice anywhere. His boots clunked towards the couch, and you frantically wiped your face and tried to think of a plan to hide your tears.

You could pretend to be asleep- but Hobie would probably just shake you awake.

You could turn over, but he’d eventually turn you around by force.

Or you could lie.

Too late.

He poked his head over the couch, eyes landing on you. You didn’t move, but forced a smile up at him, trying your best to avert his eyes from your own.

“Hey Hobs.” You drew out the hey, sliding up to meet his gaze.

He seemed to stutter for a moment, eyes widening just slightly. Your heart raced, really hoping he’d say some dumb British slang that makes you laugh- makes you forget.

Frantically looking for a distraction, your eyes fell on the bowl of cereal in his hand. Your eyes narrowed playfully. “What did I tell you about coming in here and eating my food.”

He didn’t say anything, moving around the couch and sitting down, cereal still in his hand. You leaned up against the pillow to make room, palms getting sweaty as his unusual silence continued.

“What- are you not gonna answer for your offense?” There was lightness in your voice, but Hobie definitely knew you well enough to pick up on the nerves that made your voice squeak.

He turned to you, and immediately you knew the gig was up. He looked almost disappointed- how terrible you were at hiding your feelings. At least, around him.

You looked down at your knees. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You heard the clicking of the bowl being put down on the side table.

“It was a long day okay? That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

The shifting of his jeans on the couch. God, he was really close to you right now.

“Can you say something? You being quiet is really disturb-“

Course hands on your cheeks pulled you to look at him. Your heart raced, cheeks warming at the gentleness of his gaze, his hands, his…breath.

Hobie had been your best friend since day one at the force. However, you won’t deny how gorgeous the man is, let alone how comfortable and safe you feel around him.

But like he says, labels aren’t his thing.

And loving someone who couldn’t wasn’t yours.

So you settled for whatever…this was. The comfort and warmth, the little distance between your lips, the staring contests that neither of you ever broke off.

You felt his thumb brush away a wet patch, eyes still concentrated on yours. “Feel like talkin’ now?”

You breathed deep, chest caving into your spine.

“I just- I’m frustrated with myself. Today should’ve…it could’ve gone really well…” your nose scrunched up, feeling the burned sensation starting behind your eyes again, “but. Training sucked today. I sucked today. And I’m just- I feel stupid.”

You opened your eyes, leaning into his warm touch. He was still quiet, as if pondering what to say next. It only made you more frustrated.

“God would you just say something.”

His hands drifted from your cheeks to your shoulders, and he pulled you into his chest.

There was something about this embrace that felt isolated from other ones. Flippant hands around your shoulder, head locks, the shake of the shoulders.

This was one to melt into. One that felt as if you could close your eyes, live in it forever.

“Yer the smartest person I know.” he said, his whisper near gruff in your ear.

You buried your nose into his shoulder, tears threatening to spill onto the cold leather. A muffled thank you was all he needed to pull you closer.

You stayed like that longer that friends do.

Suddenly, the swells and falls of the day started to drift away, and the smell of him made its way into your brain- processing how close he was. If your chest beat any faster, you swear he could feel it on his own.

He pulled away, and your noses brushed.

When you looked at him, his gaze wasn’t on your eyes.

It was on your lips.

“Hob-“

“Can I kiss you.”

You felt your heart lurch into your chest, the four words in that order barely registering until you found yourself nodding, and his mouth meeting yours.

It was soft, at first. You barely moved, but when you brought your hand to caress his cheek you felt him shift, hand pulling you in closer from your waist.

He kissed like he talked. Gruff and low, but to you it was always gentle. It felt like his laughter, he smile, and every other slip of heaven the man ever sent your way.

He pulled away, releasing a sigh.

“You ‘ave no clue how long I’ve wanted that.”

You put your head into his shoulder. “Maybe is should come home crying more often if your gonna greet me with that.”

He chuckled, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his laugh. “Nah. I’d rather kiss you when you’re smiling.”

It was your turn to laugh, chest vibrating against his. You lifted your head, sending him a skeptical look. “Awfully poetic for an anarchist.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? You bring it outta me.”

You hummed, leaning back into his shoulder. Of course, you could try and figure out what kissing him meant for your relationship. Whether or not this made things complicated or simple- but for now it felt right to just let your mind settle and your breath slow, with him.

You felt him reach across the table to grab his cereal bowl, and you resisted the urge to take it yourself.

“‘S was the last bowl, by the way.”

“You’re paying for another box.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

ѕнorт and ѕweeт!! мayвe ιll wrιтe a ғollow υp вυт ιтѕ υnlιĸey lмғa

[thephantomcasebook]

What’s the logic for HotD pretending that Alicent being in a relationship with Criston is the height of scandal. She’s the Queen Mother as far as Westeros is concerned she can retire. She did her job- bore several heirs, raised them, the heir now King is married with an heir of his own. If Alicent wants to do a soft retirement attended to by her long time bodyguard well that’s her business.

Because most people don't know history or understand aristocratic and noble traditions, spoken and unspoken, that exist not only in Westros but in actual real life.

When it comes to arrange marriages in aristocratic settings, it is genuinely understood by both participants that there is an unspoken contract that states that you're loyal to your spouse in public, that you are loyal to your family, and that you will do your duty to your family and your line of succession.

However, once that duty is discharged and or achieved that you are free to pursue other ends and relationships, as long as you follow the rules of the societal conventions.

And no, that is not just for men, it is for both men and women - so there is no "muh feminism!" in these arrangements.

Once a noblewoman gives birth to an heir, a spare, and a daughter of which to use to bargain for more connections to other noble houses, the wife is now free to pursue romance and dalliance's with other men, as long as she sticks to the unspoken social arrangements.

That means not making a spectacle of the Romance in public, being discreet in the affair as to not embarrass one's spouse, and to keep up the appearance of fidelity of the marriage, and you will never - EVER - takes sides against your spouse in favor of your lover.

This was and is still so common among the upper-classes that it is genuinely and widely accepted that the younger children of a Noble House or Aristocratic family are illegitimate children of random affairs had by the Lady of the House. It is not uncommon for aristocratic Great Ladies to have two or three children in the beginning of their marriage and then later in life - Late 30's to Mid 40's - to have more children, with the understanding that these children are not her husbands.

This is such an established rule in European Aristocratic Societies - Especially British High Society - that it is a cataclysmic social faux pas, black listing offense, to point out or comment on the likeness of younger children to their elder siblings or - if you're really fucking ignorant - their father.

With all this said, no one, and I mean no one, would blink in King's Landing or in any court in Westros, that Alicent and Criston are having an affair. The existence of Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena gives Alicent a free pass in the eyes of the nobility to pursue romance and intimacy with Criston. People would not at all be shocked by it, in fact, they'd probably expect it. And if Daeron is not Viserys son, that still wouldn't shock anyone at all. They simply just wouldn't acknowledge it at all. People don't expect Kingsguard to keep their vows and they certainly don't expect people in arranged marriages to stay faithful.

The issue with Rhaeynra is that she is not following the rules of society ... at all. She immediately jumped to having affairs and birthing bastards without doing her duty of producing legitimate heirs to both the Iron Thrones and to House Velaryon first. The reason nobody cares about illegitimate younger children is because they don't inherit anything, their presence doesn't usurp what is rightly the legacy of the Lord of the land or master of the estate. Having bastards and letting them steal the inheritance of the noble family you're supposed to be serving through contract with society and God(s) is spitting on the fabric and social contract of which everyone plays their part in.

Rhaenyra thinks that just because they're her children, that it gives her the right to break conventions that keep their society glued together. And we see at the end of the war just what happens when her direct actions breaks the fabric of that society and the fate that befalls her and Joffery.

The Alicent and Criston manufactured drama is based on the false assumption that them hooking up is a moral sin in the eyes of everyone, when, in reality, no one would care but Alicent and Criston from the torment of their own conscious.

Also that somehow Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond would somehow be shocked or angered by this is fucking laughable. Criston Cole is the closest thing to a father that Alicent's children have ever had. Criston and Alicent have been inseparable for eighteen years. The show already hinted in 1x09 that Aemond already knows about Alicent and Criston. All the Green kids probably suspect it if they don't outright know about how their mother feels about their pseudo-father.

In the end, it's a failure of the writers to understand the social rules of high society in medieval era Europe and to convey that to a really dumb normie audience that just assume that what Alicent and Criston are doing is evil and wrong, when - in reality - no one would blink at all at it.

Cause, unlike Rhaenyra, Alicent already did her duty to Viserys and House Targaryen.

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with the Los Angeles Times (2024)

“This is where all the cruising happened.”

Jonathan Bailey and I are standing in Pershing Square on a bright, blustery spring afternoon, nearing the end of a homemade queer history tour of downtown L.A.: One Magazine, Cooper Do-Nuts/Nancy Valverde Square, the Dover bathhouse, the Biltmore Hotel and this, the city’s former Central Park, a haven, since before World War I, for “fairies” and “sissy boys,” servicemen on leave and beatniks on the road.

“Is it still happening now?” he asks.

“Probably not as much,” I venture.

“Well, you let me know if it’s happening,” he teases, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

Bailey understands the uses of the charm offensive. As Sam, the handsome Lothario of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s delightful pre-”Fleabag” curio, “Crashing”; Anthony, the romantic hero of “Bridgerton’s” second season; and John, the jerk of a protagonist in Mike Bartlett’s love triangle play “Cock,” the English actor, 36, has swaggered up to the precipice of superstardom. With roles in such studio tentpoles as “Wicked” and “Jurassic World” on the horizon, he may just break through. Yet he delivers career-best work in Showtime’s queer melodrama “Fellow Travelers,” as anti-Communist crusader-turned-gay rights activist Tim Laughlin, by leaving behind the self-assured rakes and tapping a new wellspring: soft power.

Tim may be, as Bailey puts it, “an open nerve,” but as it turns out, the devout Catholic and political naïf — who falls for suave State Department operative Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Matt Bomer) just as Sen. Joseph McCarthy tries to purge the federal government of LGBTQ people — is formidable indeed.

Stretching from the Lavender Scare to the depths of the AIDS crisis, in scenes of tenderness, cruelty and toe-curling sex, Bailey’s performance communicates that little-spoken truth of relationships: It takes more strength to submit than it does to control. The former demands discipline, courage, trust; the latter requires only force.

“In ‘Bridgerton,’ [Bailey] is like a Hawkins Fuller character — he is very sexy and has lots of power, has that kind of confident charisma that absolutely is not Tim at all,” says “Fellow Travelers” creator Ron Nyswaner.

But any doubt about Bailey’s ability to mesh with Bomer, who boarded the project early in development, was put to bed with the actors’ virtual rehearsal of a meeting on a park bench in the pilot. “‘Well, that’s a first,’” Nyswaner recalls an executive texting him. “I cried in a chemistry read.”

‘Am I inviting people in?’

Bailey grew up in a musical family in the Oxfordshire countryside outside London, and this, coupled with an appreciation for the morning prayers, choir practice and Mass he attended as a scholarship student at the local Catholic school, fed his precocious talents. (“I loved the performance of it,” he laughs. “Not to diminish the celebration of religious process, but I did love the idea of wearing a gown.”) By age 10, he’d appeared in the West End, playing Gavroche in a production of “Les Misérables,” an experience he now recognizes as an encounter with a queer found family — albeit one shadowed by the toll of the AIDS crisis, which peaked in the U.K. in the mid-1990s.

“When I’m asked about my childhood, there’s so much I don’t remember, and I think that’s true of anyone who’s been in fight or flight for 20 years,” he says. “I would have been in a cast of people whose friends would have died in the last seven years. I think of where I was seven years ago. I had all my gay friends then. It’s only retrospectively that I can retrofit a real gay community around me [in the theater], that I just wasn’t aware of [then].”

During the late 1990s and early 2000s, American and British culture presented queer adolescents with a bewildering array of mixed signals. As beloved celebrities came out in growing numbers, and the battle for marriage equality became a central locus of LGBTQ political organizing, the media continued to propagate harmful stereotypes of gay men as miserable, lonely, perverted or worse — and, Bailey remembers, callously turned George Michael, arrested on suspicion of cruising in a Beverly Hills restroom in 1998, and Irish pop star Stephen Gately, who revealed his sexuality in 1999, fearful he was about to be outed, into tabloid spectacles.

No wonder Bailey, like many LGBTQ people of his generation, should feel the “chemical” thrill of “validation and acceptance” during London Pride at age 18, then embark on a two-year relationship with a woman in his 20s.

“Dangerously, if you’re not exposed to people who can show you other examples of happiness, you think that’s the easiest way to live,” Bailey says. “It’s funny. You look back and you can tell the story in one way, which is that I always knew who I was and my sexuality and my identity within that. But obviously at times, it was really tough. I compromised my own happiness, for sure. And compromised other people’s happiness.”

Disclosures about his personal life have become particularly thorny for the actor since the premiere of “Bridgerton,” the blockbuster bodice-ripper from executive producer Shonda Rhimes.

“The Netflix effect does knock you off center completely,” he says, recalling the experience of finding a paparazzo waiting outside his new flat before he’d even moved in. “Suddenly, you do start having nightmares about people climbing in your windows... Even now, talking about it makes me feel like, ‘Am I inviting people in?’”

He is also critical of the media for churning out headlines about the smallest details of celebrities’ private lives, often detached from their original context. In an interview with the London Evening Standard published in December, Bailey described a harrowing encounter in a Washington, D.C., coffee shop in which a man threatened his life for being queer — and, in recounting the experience, offhandedly mentioned the “lovely man” he’d called, shaken, after it happened. Although Bailey acknowledges that the original story handled the subject with aplomb, he felt dismayed that more attention wasn’t paid to the intended warning about rising anti-LGBTQ sentiment: “The only thing that got syndicated from that story was that I had a boyfriend, and it wasn’t true,” he sighs. “It was kind of depressing, if I’m honest.”

Still, Bailey, who once turned down a role in a queer-themed TV series because it would have required him to speed along revelations about his personal life he wasn’t ready to make, is prepared to embrace the power of vulnerability when it feeds the work. Although a member of his inner circle expressed doubts about “Fellow Travelers’” steamy sex scenes, for instance, the actor intuited that they were what made the project worth doing: “I was like, ‘I’m telling you, they are the reason why this is going to be brilliant.’”

‘He’s changed my trajectory in my own life’

To those who would complain about the state of sex in film and TV, “Fellow Travelers” is the perfect riposte. All of it matters, from Tim’s first flirtation with Hawk to the finale’s closing minutes, because the series, at its core, is about the importance of soft power: the strength required to bend, but not break; to adapt, but not abandon oneself; to survive without shrinking to nothing in the process.And depicting that through sex, specifically gay sex, makes “Fellow Travelers” radical indeed.

Bailey understands that baring so much comes with certain risks. When I tell him that research for the story has filled my algorithmic “For You” feed on X (formerly Twitter) with speculation that his onscreen relationship with Bomer has a real-life element, he notes that “shipping” fictional couples and costars alike has long been part of Hollywood fantasy. But he bristles at the implication that he and Bomer are anything but skilled actors at work.

“I would love for people to know that the success of our chemistry isn’t based on us f—. It’s actually about us leaning into the craft,” he says. “It’s a vulnerable situation to be in, talking about it on record. I don’t want to rob people of their thoughts. But I do have a set of values, and as an artist, you don’t need to be f— to tell that love story.”

Underlying that craft, Bailey adds, is the confidence to speak up, as with one scene in “Fellow Travelers” that was adjusted because he said, “I don’t want to be naked today.” He learned to use his voice the hard way: In his early 20s, he recalls, he was once “bullied” on set when “someone was threatened” by him and vowed to himself, “I’m never going to do that to someone. I’m never going to allow that to happen.”

This impulse to direct his influence in support of others has blossomed further with “Fellow Travelers.” On the day of our interview, Bailey enthuses about an upcoming meeting with legendary gay rights activist Cleve Jones and shares his idea for a docuseries recording the stories of elders in the LGBTQ+ community while they are still here to tell them. He describes lying in a hospital bed on set on World AIDS Day, in character as Tim, surrounded by gay men who had lost friends and lovers during the crisis, and finding himself thinking, “What do I want to leave behind?”

“I think he’s changed my trajectory in my own life,” Bailey says.

This is, perhaps, the most common reaction I know to diving deep into queer history — the understanding that we, like our forerunners, are responsible for shaping the queer future, whether in politics, society or art. No one is going to do it on our behalf.

As we stand on the nondescript corner now named for her, I relate the story of the late queer activist Nancy Valverde, who was arrested repeatedly while a barber school student in the 1950s on suspicion of “masquerading” because of her preference for short hair and men’s clothing, and later successfully challenged her harassment by the police in court.

“What a hero!” Bailey exclaims, wondering at Valverde’s bravery. “The thing that’s so interesting with power battles is, ultimately, identity is the thing that gives you the most strength and power in your life, isn’t it?

“Because that’s one thing people can’t take away from you: who you are and how you express yourself.”

Source

[scrapironflotilla]

"The Boche is managing his attack another way; he is practicing it very much like he did at Cambrai. First they have a creeping barrage, probably like ours. Next to that he is going to have a smoke barrage made by hand grenades. After that he is putting his eggs in the Storm Trooper basket. These fellows are specially trained and they are really very fine men. These Storm Troops and machine gunners are the only good people on foot in the German Army. All infantry Battalions are skinned of their best men to put into the Storm Troops. It is therefore important that you should defeat these Storm Troops; one Storm Troop knocked out is worth a lot."

"In the German scheme they and the light machine guns are to go straight ahead and not stop for anything; they will not stop in your line. They are followed immediately behind (about 200 yards behind)  by masses of Infantry, so that if you massacre the Storm Troops and get the SOS going you will have a fine time. The Hun idea is that the Storm Troops will make holes and continue their advance past our strong points. They having been training them to go 12 kilometres about 7 miles, the first day. That might do for the Italians and the Russians, but it will not do for you. Not if you are in depth. "

"Then the Infantry following behind is to mop up, moving right and left from the breaches thus made.  There will be a very careful reconnaissance and these will now move up the hollows to avoid being seen by our artillery. That is what they did at Cambrai. One lot goes one way and another lot the other way and the Storm Troops go right on. They expect to paralyse you by the sudden onslaught of these Storm Troops, but you have only got to watch properly and have your men to shoot and then you will be alright."

"With the wire you have in front of you and the arrangements we are making, provided you will patrol No Mans Land and will teach Musketry to your Sections I don’t think the Boche has a dog’s chance." Lieutenant-General Ivor Maxse on the lessons learnt from the Battle of Cambrai, 12/2/1918.

Maxse's 18th Corps was part of the British Fifth Army that bore the brunt of the German Spring Offensive in March 1918. Maxse's training had paid off, and despite suffering heavily they withdrew in good order and never broke the same way much of the rest of the Fifth Army did.

[severus-snaps]

'Mudblood' and Muggle-borns

back again with some late-to-the-party observations that I want to talk about (ah, the perils of becoming obsessed with snape in 2024)

So, I think by now that most people are aware of this tweet and/or the idea that it wasn't just Muggle-borns, but half-bloods as well, who were called 'Mudbloods' by blood supremacists:

And I don't know about anyone else, but I took this with a grain of salt because JKR is known to... make statements sometimes, some more realistic within her own canon than others.

I know that some people (on Quora especially, but probably elsewhere) outright claim that JKR said this to make Snape's use of 'Mudblood' in SWM 'more acceptable' or less bad or something because the term applied to him, too, and not just Muggle-borns - and literally until today, I thought the same. Now don't get me wrong, I love Snape and will usually jump at any chance to make his backstory and characterisation more complicated and sympathetic. I felt almost that JK was sort of... backtracking, because in the series we only see people use 'Mudblood' against Muggle-borns, with Hermione and Draco the most frequently seen Muggle-born and blood supremacist (respectively) in the series.

So I've rounded up a few examples where Mudblood is arguably used against people who are not Muggle-born.

We're first introduced to the term "Mudblood" in CoS:

The smug look on Malfoy’s face flickered. “No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he spat.

Ron describes the term shortly afterwards as follows:

"Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born — you know, non-magic parents"

And that is how we see Draco use it most often, to refer to Muggle-borns (most notably Hermione). But it has been used on others who are probably not Muggleborn.

Exhibit A: Bob Ogden

Over to Potter-Search I go, searching 'Mudblood' - only to find someone called Bob Ogden. Now, having not read the later books in quite some time I had no idea initially who Bob Ogden was, so I head over to the wiki page. For those of you like me who haven't read the later books in a while, Ogden appeared in one of Dumbledore and Harry's trips into the Pensieve:

Bob Ogden (fl. 1925) was a British wizard who worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a department of the Ministry of Magic, and led the Magical Law Enforcement Squad in the 1920s. As part of his duties, he once visited the Gaunt Shack, as the Department believed that Morfin Gaunt had not only performed magic in front of a Muggle but also accosted that Muggle, Tom Riddle Snr, and performed a dark charm on him.

Marvolo Gaunt, Morfin's father, asks him this:

“Are you pure-blood?” [Gaunt] asked, suddenly aggressive. “That’s neither here nor there,” said Ogden coldly, and Harry felt his respect for Ogden rise. Apparently Gaunt felt rather differently. He squinted into Ogden’s face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, “Now I come to think about it, I’ve seen noses like yours down in the village.” “I don’t doubt it, if your son’s been let loose on them,” said Ogden.

Harry I think interprets this interaction as a Pureblood/Half-Blood Ogden rejecting Pureblood/blood supremacist ideology. Personally, I'm more inclined to think he's being cagey because he has definite Muggle ancestry, but we just don't know. I suppose it doesn't really matter. And then:

“So!” said Gaunt triumphantly, as though he had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible dispute. “Don’t you go talking to us as if we’re dirt on your shoes! Generations of purebloods, wizards all — more than you can say, I don’t doubt!” ... “Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden doggedly, “I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night.

And finally:

“And you think we’re scum, do you?” screamed Gaunt, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. “Scum who’ll come running when the Ministry tells ’em to? Do you know who you’re talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?” “I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, looking wary, but standing his ground.

On the Wiki page, under Ogden's blood status, I find this interesting note:

In Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 10 (The House of Gaunt) Ogden is shown wearing "the strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look like Muggles," which indicates that he was not Muggle-born, as a Muggle-born would have at least some experience with putting together a Muggle outfit.

The outfit in question was described as a "frock coat and spats over a striped one-piece bathing costume". I know shit all about clothes, so I had to google a frock coat, and here's some examples (conveniently also featuring spats on the feet in the first image); and also a one-piece bathing suit (vintage, since it was the 1920s and I'm assuming a men's):

[Images from Lily Absinthe, State Library of Victoria and vintag.es]

What a look. Deliberate in its farcicality. So... no, even the most out-of-touch Muggleborn in the 1920s probably wouldn't put that together in combination, because even assuming he was like 100 or something (seeing as he died at some stage before the events of HBP), I don't think a Muggleborn with two Muggle parents could've been that out of the loop on Muggle clothing to confuse swimwear for casual daywear.

Ogden is, obviously then, of magical enough heritage not to have any idea how to dress like a Muggle. And yet here he was, in my 'Mudblood' search. Admittedly, that might only be a generation or so removed; Tonks is also clearly clueless:

“Very clean, aren’t they, these Muggles?” said the witch called Tonks, who was looking around the kitchen with great interest. “My dad’s Muggle-born and he’s a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?”

Marvolo's comment about Ogden's nose also can be taken several ways; a jab/joke about the pus nose curse that Ogden's just had put on him by Morfin, or a real, thinly veiled accusation of Ogden having Muggle heritage (possibly the same as those in the surrounding villages). For his own safety, if Ogden was indeed Pureblood, he probably should've said so (for all the good it might have done him).

At any rate, Ogden obviously, whatever his family history, is 'wizard' enough to not know how to blend with Muggles - he's definitely not Muggleborn himself. If he did have Muggle heritage, which makes him a dubiously-named half-blood (dubious in that "half-blood" more or less refers to anyone who isn't 'Pureblood' or 'Muggleborn' rather than indicating a half-and-half split), it's likely to have been a grandparent or something, if not further removed (do we see Tonks struggle to wear Muggle clothes? I can't remember. I vaguely remember McGonagall wearing a Muggle dress, and she's supposed to be half-blood - but she's not described as looking odd for what she's wearing but I got more of the impression that Harry found it odd to see her out of the ususal robes she wears at Hogwarts).

Anyway, the real point of it is that it doesn't matter how magical Ogden is, because he is marked out as not Muggle-born by his clothes, and yet he still gets called a Mudblood. Gaunt wasn't necessarily suggesting Ogden's parents hadn't been a witch and a wizard, but that overall he had a bit more Muggle in him than a wizard should have (which, according to Gaunt, is none).

It's worth noting that the Gaunts were a family "noted for a vein of instability", possibly as a result of consistently marrying their cousins, so perhaps only their view on 'Mudblood' is anyone who isn't a Pureblood. And, of course, they are the proud, cousin-marrying descendents of Salazar Slytherin, who "started all this pure-blood stuff", and so were likely especially zealous about who 'counted' as Pure:

"They [Hogwarts founders] built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution." (Binns, CoS) "Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy." (Binns, CoS)

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those Whose ancestry is purest." (Sorting Hat, OotP)

In any case, this is the strongest example of a dedicated blood supremacist calling someone with any suspected (real or otherwise) Muggle heritage a Mudblood.

Exhibit B: Walburga Black

Walburga Black was Sirius Black's mother, a proud pureblood supremacist, and she thought that Voldemort had the 'right idea' about things. Her portrait at Grimmauld Place calls the inhabitants of her house "filth" "creatures of dirt*", "scum", "stains of dishonour", and "mudbloods".

"MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT*!" “Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers — ” "Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers!"

* Creatures of dirt is apparently another word/turn of phrase for Mudblood, according to the wiki.

Obviously the portrait is screaming and overexcited, and not especially prone to nuance, but it does seem to be calling multiple people in the house Mudbloods - when, in theory, only Hermione would fit that description. Walburga is also capable of distinguishing between different people and offering specific insults, such as to Sirius:

“Yoooou!” she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. “Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!”

Andromeda Tonks (nee Black) was blasted off of the Black family tapestry by Walburga for marrying a Muggleborn:

[Sirius] pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa. “Andromeda’s sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so — ” Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly.

I expect having an actual Muggle in the family (aka an actual half-and-half Half-Blood) would've been seen as just as bad, if not worse, than marrying a Muggleborn to dedicated blood purists.

But in any case, with an Order primarily made up of Pureblood blood traitors (e.g. Weasleys, Sirius, Moody) and Half-Bloods (generally consisting of at least two magical parents like Harry, Tonks, and Dumbledore), and one Muggleborn (Hermione), Walburga just calls them all Mudbloods.

I'm also curious, as Hagrid wasn't there at 12 Grimmauld Place and a werewolf isn't technically a half-breed (but is sometimes conceptualised as such e.g. by Umbridge and her ilk), whether Walburga calls half-bloods "half-breeds", or whether she was yelling more generally at Lupin. Perhaps Muggles are "a different creature" in her eyes. We know that this line of thinking isn't uncommon:

"We’ve all got to listen to [whichever DE was in charge of Muggle Studies in DH] explain how Muggles are like animals, stupid and dirty..." (Neville, DH)

Exhibit C: Penelope Clearwater

Examples start to get a bit more sparse and interpretive from here on out.

In Chamber of Secrets, Voldemort describes the people petrified as Mudbloods:

“Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter?” said Riddle softly. “Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib’s cat.”

The "four Mudbloods" in question were:

Colin Creevy

Justin Finch-Fletchley (with Nearly-Headless Nick as collatoral damage)

Hermione Granger, and

Penelope Clearwater

But we're not certain that they're all Muggleborn. In CoS, Justin is confirmed; he was headed to Eton and was waiting for Harry (the supposed Heir of Slytherin) to attack him in CoS for being Muggleborn. Colin is confirmed; "I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman...", and Hermione is obvious.

And then there's Penelope. Unlike the other confirmed Muggle-borns, we don't hear much about her, apart from the fact that she's Percy's girlfriend and probably likes Quidditch; but Hermione uses her as her 'cover' when the Trio gets caught by Snatchers in Deathly Hallows:

“Penelope Clearwater,” said Hermione. She sounded terrified, but convincing. “What’s your blood status?” “Half-blood,” said Hermione.

And the note about it on the Wiki says:

However, it is possible that the fourth Muggle-born in addition to Colin, Hermione, and Justin (who are all definitively identified as Muggle-borns at some point) was Nearly-Headless Nick, and that Penelope was simply petrified because she was with Hermione when she encountered the Basilisk. In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 23 (Malfoy Manor), Hermione posed as Penelope when under interrogation by Snatchers, and claimed to be half-blood. Although, Hermione may have only lied about Penelope's blood status because mentioning she's Muggle-born would have possibly made things worse.

To me it seems unlikely that Voldemort would set the Basilisk on a ghost. It also seems unlikely that, after Harry has offered up "Vernon Dudley" as his name (more on that in a moment), and Ron has called himself first Stan Shunpike and then Barney Weasley, that Hermione would choose someone who she knew wasn't going to be a safe bet. Snatchers are "gangs trying to earn gold by rounding up Muggle-borns and blood traitors", so why offer a name that's likely to be on their list of Muggle-borns? It's also possible that it was just the first name she thought of, then lied about the blood status; but given that Hermione and Penelope would have woken up in the hospital wing together at the end of the events of CoS, it may well have come up in discussion.

And then there's this:

“You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?” he roared. “Yeah. There’s no Vernon Dudley on ’ere, Greyback.”

So, the list is being checked by the Snatchers to see if the 'disguised' Trio are "wanted" - aka if they are Muggleborns/blood traitors/truants. I doubt they even checked Ron's name since the Weasleys are well-known blood traitors, but they picked up on Vernon Dudley not being a real name, and their list certainly seems to include Muggleborns, since they say they've captured a "Mudblood (presumably Dean Thomas), a runaway goblin, and three truants (the Trio)". Yet they don't mention Penelope.

So, Penelope was not on their list, and if it hadn't been for the Snatchers recognising Hermione in the paper, they might have gotten away with it. Maybe Penelope was Muggleborn and "presented herself for interrogation", which is something that Ron mentions Hermione hasn't done earlier in the book, and therefore that's why Penelope wasn't on the list - or that Penelope is not Muggleborn, but Half-Blood, and she got called a Mudblood in CoS anyway.

(Yes, JK probably forgot - but I'm sticking in-universe).

Exhibit D: The Muggle-Born Registration Commission

“Will the old hag [Umbridge] be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?”

Shortly followed by:

“No, no, I’m half-blood, I’m half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he was, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he’s a well-known broomstick designer, look him up, I tell you — get your hands off me, get your hands off—” “This is your final warning,” said Umbridge’s soft voice, magically magnified so that it sounded clearly over the man’s desperate screams. “If you struggle, you will be subjected to the Dementor’s Kiss.” The man’s screams subsided, but dry sobs echoed through the corridor. “Take him away,” said Umbridge. Two dementors appeared in the doorway of the courtroom, their rotting, scabbed hands clutching the upper arms of a wizard who appeared to be fainting. They glided away down the corridor with him, and the darkness they trailed behind them swallowed him from sight.

So, the Muggle-Born Registration Commission was supposed to be rounding up, interrogating and imprisoning Muggle-borns, but arguably was also rounding up (and referring to) possible half-bloods, too. The same possibly happened to Dean Thomas, a half-blood (according to his official page) mistaken for a Muggle-born, as he had no record of his wizard father.

“Muggle-born, eh?” asked the first man. “Not sure,” said Dean. “My dad left my mum when I was a kid. I’ve got no proof he was a wizard, though.”

Summary of Exhibits

So, we've seen half-blood-or-more Bob Ogden and potentially half-blood Penelope Clearwater be referred to as Mudbloods by Gaunts/Voldemort. We've seen an entire house of people of different magical heritage between them, all collectively called Mudbloods by Walburga Black. And we've seen some random Ministry witch call a whole collection of (assumed but not confirmed) Muggle-born wizards and witches Mudbloods.

I think what we can gather from this is that the distinction between half-blood and Muggle-born hardly matters to some blood supremacists. If you're a Pureblood supremacist, anyone who isn't Pure is, obviously, impure. Arguably, "Mudblood" wasn't always strictly about being Muggleborn; it's about 'impure' heritage. The stronger examples (Bob Ogden, Walburga Black) are older examples; Voldemort and Walburga's generation (born ~1920s) and even before (Marvolo's generation had an even more ambiguous use). I think it's safe to say that the meaning of the word may have evolved or tightened by the time Harry is in school to primarily refer to Muggleborns, but obviously that's a matter of opinion;

Silent Half-Bloods in the Hierarchy of Pureblood Supremacy

Wizarding society is sort of divided into Pureblood, Half-blood, Muggle-borns, Muggles, and... Squibs, somewhere.

Obviously, in an ideal pureblood society, Purebloods are at the top:

[Sirius' parents] "thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge." (Sirius, OotP) "For years [Regulus] talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns..." (Kreacher, DH)

Setting aside the knowledge for a moment that Voldemort was half-blood, and instead perceiving him as the Pureblood he pretended to be, this is what he touted, and this is what his Pureblood followers from the "ancient and noble" families like the Malfoys and the Blacks aspired to.

So indisputably, here excluding for brevity's sake the complexities of intelligent nonhumans/magical beings and 'half-breeds' (being its own meta that's probably been written somewhere), Muggles are at the bottom of a blood supremacist's list. Muggles and Muggle-borns are seen as a threat to Wizarding society, and as (potentially dangerous) outsiders. We can see it in the explanation given (quoted somewhere way, way above) about Salazar Slytherin's reasonings; it started with mistrust, as Muggles in the early days were persecuting wizards.

This mistrust (and disgust) obviously was kept alive and well in Tom/Voldemort/blood supremacists: "I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?" (Voldemort, CoS).

But it's also an element of exclusionary attitude; Muggle-borns have grown up outside of magical culture, which we can see reflected in the first interaction between Draco and Harry in PS:

“But they were our kind, weren’t they?” “They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.” “I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

It'll come as a surprise to literally nobody that the problem as blood supremacists see it is that Muggles, and by extension Muggle-borns, as well as being outsiders, are viewed as dirty/disgusting, and common. In CoS, post slug-heaving, Ron describes "Mudblood" as meaning:

"Dirty blood, see. Common blood".

We see these descriptors a lot in the series. Gaunt describes Merope as a "dirty Squib", "disgusting little Squib" and a "filthy little blood traitor" (and she's a Pureblood witch, albeit struggling with her powers); and in CoS of course Voldemort calls his father "a foul, common Muggle". We also see throughout the books "Mudblood filth", and "filthy little Mudblood" in particular reference to Muggle-borns such as Hermione and Lily (and to Bob Ogden).

[Side note: I have seen some arguments that say 'filthy' is sometimes used in the series instead of the word 'fucking', e.g. "that fucking Mudblood" - but obviously it's a kid's series, so the word was replaced. I think it could work in terms of this replacement in some contexts, but I'm not sure that was the purpose. Filthy just means disgustingly dirty, and has an interesting extra context from the etymology I just found out:

filthy (adj.) late 12c., fulthe, "corrupt, sinful," from filth + -y (2). Meaning "physically unclean, dirty, noisome" is from late 14c. Meaning "morally dirty, obscene" is from 1530s.

You can get a sense of a more 'moral' objection in the later books, e.g. Neville discussing their Muggle Studies during the events of DH:

We’ve all got to listen to her explain how Muggles are like animals, stupid and dirty, and how they drove wizards into hiding by being vicious toward them, and how the natural order is being reestablished.

And especially this, from Voldemort:

"Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance. … She would have us all mate with Muggles …"

I feel like there's a few points to be made about this quote.

First, obviously Voldemort has the DEs convinced that he's also Pureblood; he's the Heir of Slytherin after all, the Dark Lord, greatest wizard of all time, etc. Even Harry telling Bellatrix that Voldemort was half-blood at the end of OotP hasn't made a difference. (And why would it? Question or defy him and he'll kill your whole family and make you watch, probably).

Second, we can see also in the Muggle-Born Registration Commission chapter, where Umbridge asks Mary Cattermole where she stole her wand from, that Muggle-borns are accused of somehow... stealing magic?

"Nevertheless, unless you can prove that you have at least one close Wizarding relative, you are now deemed to have obtained your magical power illegally and must suffer the punishment."

Anyway, I think there's another point here, one I can't quite reach with my brain. The quote starts with viewing ostensibly only Muggleborns as the issue; as the thieves of knowledge. But Voldemort's point ends up with the disparaging of half-bloods (as they're the wizarding 'type' to arise from Muggle-Magical Mating™️). That's nothing to do with Muggle-borns at all.

But we hear next to nothing about half-bloods, despite their having Muggle and/or Muggle-born heritage; the same heritage described so often as dirty, disgusting, and filthy. We hear more outrage about blood traitors, Pureblood families who sympathise with Muggles or Muggle-borns: "blood traitors are as bad as the Mudbloods", "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book", and wizards/witches who are tolerant of Muggles are called "Muggle-lovers". (I hesitate even to say that 'Muggle-tolerant wizards' like, support, or even accept Muggles - because even Muggle 'tolerant' wizards (e.g. like Hagrid and the Weasleys), the Order and the like, the allies to the "champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore", also look down on Muggles to an extent, but I digress again).

The only disparaging references I could find to half-bloods were Bellatrix to Harry:

"You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare -" " — He stands there — filthy half-blood —"

And one about Mundungus:

“That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?” said Phineas Nigellus, incensed.

In the few examples we see, they're subject to the same dehumanising, dirty/disgusting and animal comparisons as "Mudbloods" and Squibs.

But there are few examples. The lack of attention paid to half-bloods is probably, in part because of the dwindling population of Purebloods:

"Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out." (Ron, CoS) “If you’re only going to let your sons and daughters marry purebloods your choice is very limited, there are hardly any of us left.” (Sirius, OotP)

Half-bloods are accepted purely by necessity, because unlike Muggle-borns they do have magical lineage to draw on, and because there aren't enough Purebloods left. It's for the same reason that blood traitors are allowed to keep on being traitors but aren't punished to the same degree as Muggle-borns, per this note from the wiki:

"They don’t want to spill too much pure blood, so they’ll torture us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.” Given this statement, as well as the fact that the Weasleys were only in direct danger after Ron Weasley's help of Harry Potter was revealed to the Death Eaters, it seems that they were hesitant to kill blood traitors unless they were very rebellious.

Half-bloods sort of escape the Pureblood rhetoric entirely, between these reasons and being the most common type of witch or wizard. The term “half-blood” is ambiguous, and practically meaningless, after all; it refers to anyone with one Muggle parent (like Seamus Finnegan; Severus Snape), or anyone with one Muggle-born parent (like Harry, Tonks), and (I'm not sure if we learn this in the books, but) it also applies if you have a Muggle or Muggle-born grandparent, and presumably any recent traceable Muggle or Muggle-born lineage.

While half-bloods do have 'impure' Muggle ancestry, they are often viewed through the lens of their magical parentage, which can sometimes afford them a degree of acceptance or a different (almost nonexistant) level of scrutiny. In the hierarchy of blood purity, they are less offensive to purists compared to Muggle-borns, but not as esteemed as pure-bloods.

Sort of absent but for different reasons are Squibs. In broad terms, Squibs are generally more likely to be straight up ignored or disregarded, in contrast to the outright hatred and contempt directed toward Muggleborns and Muggles - the issue is a relation to non-magical Muggles, rather than magical skill itself. Because Squibs have magical ancestry, perhaps they fare slightly 'better' within this belief system. Of course, I expect it's all interrelated and decidedly more nuanced (as are all systems of prejudice/oppression), but as I say - in broad terms. Filch liked to help Umbridge, after all - like so many others in wizarding society (and wider, real-life society), his acceptance was conditional, and arguably based on either pity or what he could bring to the table.

In a similar way, being half-blood is only 'advantageous' when magical heritage can be proven and played upon - like Voldemort; like Umbridge:

“That’s — that’s pretty, Dolores,” she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge’s blouse. “What?” snapped Umbridge, glancing down. “Oh yes — an old family heirloom,” she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom. “The S stands for Selwyn. … I am related to the Selwyns. … Indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related...”

"It was Umbridge's lie that brought the blood surging into Harry's brain and obliterated his sense of caution; that [Slytherin's/Voldemort's] locket she had taken as a bribe from a petty criminal [Mundungus] was being used to bolster her own pure-blood credentials."

... and even like some Death Eaters probably do:

"The Death Eaters can’t all be pure-blood, there aren’t enough pure-blood wizards left," said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure." "I got this one," [Neville] indicated another slash to his face, "for asking [Carrow] how much Muggle blood she and her brother have got."

... and unlike the son of Arkie Alderton, the well-known broomstick designer, who got carted away by Dementors. Purebloods could and would just as easily turn on half-bloods.

"First they came for the Socialists…" as the poem goes. Muggles and Muggle-borns will be the first witches and wizards targeted, face the worst discrimination, but half-bloods too are only safe so long as they can prove themselves as 'magical enough', dedicated enough, or useful enough; and they'll never be magical enough for the likes of true believers.

Severus Snape: Mudblood?

I don't think it's a stretch, then, to say that some Purebloods did use the term "Mudblood" for people other than Muggle-borns. Unlike most of the half-bloods we see in the series, with two magical parents, Snape was actually the son of Tobias Snape, a Muggle, with a clearly Muggle name that sets him apart from the well-known and interconnected Pureblood families. As a student, and sometimes as an adult, Snape to some extent 'fit' the stereotypes of Muggles in that he would be perceived as common, dirty, and disgusting; throughout the series he's described as "greasy", with "yellow, uneven teeth"; he hails from Cokeworth, likely from a two-up-two-down house, described as though set in a Northern industrial area; he is scrawny, skinny, as a child wears mismatched clothes, and is likely neglected and grew up in poverty. (Contrast with Purebloods Sirius, who is regularly described as handsome, James, who had the "indefinable air of having been well cared for and even adored that Snape so conspicuously lacked", and the Malfoy family, who are also regularly described as being attractive).

If we use Draco as a benchmark for Slytherin Pureblood behaviour, then imagine how much worse Snape would be received; he's poorer than a Weasley, more Muggle than Harry Potter (and absolutely not the chosen one), and at least half as Muggle as Hermione. It's questionable whether Eileen Prince/Snape was herself even a Pureblood; whilst I was traversing for all the quotes here, Hermione talks about reading through Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy, that "lists the pure-blood families that are now extinct in the male line" - which, if Prince was a Pureblood name, might have crept up in passing conversation since Hermione seemed to struggle to find anything out about the HBP in the previous book.

During a war in which Voldemort rose to power, with an identifiably Muggle name and not one of the vastly interconnected and still-powerful Pureblood families, Snape would be noticed for being different. He was about a year apart from Regulus after all, who had a whole collage on his wall of Voldemort's press cuttings, favoured son of enthusiastic blood supremacist Walburga Black - so I find it hard to believe that Slytherins were... fully accepting.

In CoS, when a basilisk was going around attempting to kill Muggle-borns on behalf of the Heir of Slytherin, the Slytherin common room password was pureblood. I feel like there's a whole point there, but it's nearly 4am here, so I can't brain it right now. (But like... did Snape set the passwords? Did the entrance do it magically?? Did a Head Boy/Prefect do it?? Either way, there's a strong sense of pureblood supremacy communicated in that password that's only strengthened by the timing, echoing the Heir's agenda). In any case, it speaks to the entrenched nature of pure-blood ideology of Slytherin as a house.

"my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal . . . my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them" (Sirius, OotP) "as far as [Marvolo] was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal" (Harry, DH)

The Purebloods of Slytherin house in any generation - who considered themselves "practically royal" in their superiority - would surely ridicule a self-styled, half-blood Prince.

[gusty-wind]

CHILLING REPORT FROM HOLLAND'S Prime Minister Geert Wilders

Every word in this paper has deep thought-provoking effects.

Dear friends,

Thank you very much for inviting me. I come to America with a mission. All is not well in the old world. There is a tremendous danger looming, and it is very difficult to be optimistic. We might be in the final stages of the Islamization of Europe. This not only is a clear and present danger to the future of Europe itself. It is a threat to America and the sheer survival of the West. The United States was the last bastion of Western civilization, facing an Islamic Europe.

First, I will describe the situation on the ground in Europe. Then, I will say a few things about Islam. To close I will tell you about a meeting in Jerusalem.

The Europe you know is http://changing.You have probably seen the landmarks. But in all of these cities, sometimes a few blocks away from your tourist destination, there is another world. It is the world of the parallel society created by Muslim mass-migration. All throughout Europe, a new reality is rising: entire Muslim neighbourhoods where very few indigenous people reside or are even seen. And if they are, they might regret it. This goes for the police as well. It's the world of head scarves, where women walk around in figureless tents, with baby strollers and a group of children. Their husbands, or slaveholders, if you prefer, walk three steps ahead. With mosques on many street corners. The shops have signs you and I can not read. You will be hard-pressed to find any economic activity. These are Muslim ghettos controlled by religious fanatics. These are Muslim neighborhoods, and they are mushrooming in every city across Europe . These are the building-blocks for territorial control of increasingly larger portions of Europe , street by street, neighbourhood by neighbourhood, and city by city.

There are now thousands of mosques throughout Europe . With larger congregations than there are in churches. In every European city, there are plans to build super-mosques that will dwarf every church in the region. Clearly, the signal is: we rule.Many European cities are already one-quarter Muslim: just take Amsterdam , Marseille, and Malmo in Sweden . In many cities, the majority of the under-18 population is Muslim. Paris is now surrounded by a ring of Muslim neighbourhoods. Mohammed is the most popular name among boys in many cities.

In some elementary schools in Amsterdam the farm can no longer be mentioned, because that would also mean mentioning the pig, and that would be an insult to Muslims.Many state schools in Belgium and Denmark only serve halal food to all pupils. In once-tolerant Amsterdam gays are beaten up almost exclusively by Muslims. Non-Muslim women routinely hear 'whore, whore'. Satellite dishes are not pointed to local TV stations, but to stations in the country of origin.

In France school teachers are advised to avoid authors deemed offensive to Muslims, including Voltaire and Diderot; the same is increasingly true of Darwin . The history of the Holocaust can no longer be taught because of Muslim sensitivity.

In England sharia courts are now officially part of the British legal system. Many neighborhoods in France are no-go areas for women without head scarves. Last week a man almost died after being beaten up by Muslims in Brussels , because he was drinking during the Ramadan.Jews are fleeing France in record numbers, on the run for the worst wave of anti-Semitism since World War II. French is now commonly spoken on the streets of Tel Aviv and Netanya , Israel . I could go on forever with stories like this. Stories about Islamization. A total of fifty-four million Muslims now live.

San Diego University recently calculated that a staggering 25 percent of the population in Europe will be Muslim just 12 years from now. Bernhard Lewis has predicted a Muslim majority by the end of this century.

Now these are just numbers. And the numbers would not be threatening  if the Muslim-immigrants had a strong desire to assimilate.

[tayfabe75]

Matty Healy: Cancelled on purpose?

"I'd rather be a pretend supervillain than some pretend hero." (x)

Matty Healy. If you're familiar with the name, chances are good you've already got an opinion about him. Probably a strong one, if I had to guess! Since opinions about Matty Healy tend to come in just two shades: black and white - revered and reviled. On the one hand, you've got people sleeping in tents on sidewalks, sometimes in sketchy cities and inclement weather, just for the chance to see him up close; on the other hand, you have chronically online Twitter users praying for his early demise, using AI art to bring their most depraved wishes to life. So, what's going on, exactly?

"The only fear I have is provoking ambivalence in people. I'd rather people be angry at me than be bored." (x)

And get angry they did! Matty's 2023 cancellation even earned him Pitchfork's "Villain of the Year" title! But...

Did he plan for it to happen all along?

On October 14th, 2022, Matty appears on Chicken Shop Date with Amelia Dimoldenberg. She confronts him about his plan to go on a podcast and pleads, "please don't", to which Matty replies:

"It's probably good advice."

A couple of months later in December 2022, Zane Lowe reveals that Matty meticulously planned their entire interview, lovingly describing him as a "TROLL!" Likewise, when questioned about their ambitious 'At Their Very Best' tour, Matty says that though the tour "feels loose", it's actually "very, very tight" and "very, very well-rehearsed".

Fast-forward to February 2nd, 2023: Matty makes an appearance on Q with Tom Power, where he describes his interest in the flimsy nature of interviews, saying:

"I could fuck my career, I could be a different person, I could do a Chinese accent, I could do anything!"

About a week later, on February 9th, 2023, Matty appeared on the Adam Friedland Show podcast. For context, this podcast is classified as "black comedy, blue humor, surreal humor, anti-humor, and political satire". It is associated with the "Dirtbag left", which is described as "a style of left-wing politics that eschews civility to convey a left-wing populist and anti-capitalist message using vulgarity". In other words, they're trolls. Just like Matty.

Now, to make things easier for anyone reading who wants the full context, I clipped Matty's three "unforgivable offenses" from the dreaded podcast: here is the "ghetto gaggers" moment, the "Ice Spice" moment, and the "accents" moment. I hope you can tell the difference between British and American accents…

Adam and Nick would go on to clarify that they didn't actually know which website Matty was watching. Likewise, very recently, the woman who walked in on Matty clarified that he was not even watching ghetto gaggers:

When asked about the podcast and whether he baited his fans on purpose, Matty said:

"A little bit. But it doesn't actually matter. Nobody is sitting there at night slumped at their computer, and their boyfriend comes over and goes, 'What's wrong, darling?' and they go, 'It's just this thing with Matty Healy.' That doesn't happen."

Yet, it does! Shortly after the podcast, Matty's fans expressed their distaste for his appearance on The Adam Friedland Show. Part of that might be because it was amplified by this tweet from Yungblud:

Interestingly, a few months prior to his tweet, Yungblud went on record stating his admiration for Matty Healy in November 2022. And after Matty's very "unserious" video response wherein he mocks Yungblud, but Dom would later go on to admit that he found the whole thing funny and that he still likes the guy.

Conveniently, Ice Spice also happened to go on record with her admiration for The 1975 shortly before the dreaded podcast, in January 2023!:

"I listen to alternative music. I feel like a lot of people wouldn't expect that. Yeah, shout out Coldplay, The 1975. Obsessed with them."

This, of course, made the joke about her sting that much more a month later… Now, if Matty simply promoted Ice Spice by praising her on his social media accounts, she might have gotten a small boost in streams, that's true. But think about that pretend villain quote again… by taking the fall for a barely offensive joke that he didn't even say, himself… Matty practically turned Ice Spice into a household name.

And before you go assuming Taylor collaborated with Ice Spice purely as damage control… well, there was a rumor about the collab almost a full month before it dropped, on April 27th. And here's what Ice Spice had to say about it:

"That was mostly through management. I was talking about how I was watching Taylor's documentary 'cause I just wanted to really take notes as an artist and stuff like that. Just like how the lifestyle is for such a big artist like her. My manager heard me talking about that and had like reached out to her team and then they had a song for me and everything just played out real good."

Ice Spice's clarification often gets ignored in favor of the more dramatic version of events. The same way Matty's apology addressing the situation from last April gets ignored by so-called journalists who are rewarded for their biases via clickbait titles.

Ice Spice also clarified that Matty apologized to her personally several times:

"I saw him at the Jean Paul Gaultier party a couple days ago, and he was like, 'Hey, you OK?' and I'm like, 'Of course.' He apologized to me a bunch of times. We're good."

Speaking of podcasts… on April 8th, The 1975 released an episode of 'A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment' (filmed in March) where Matty appears to be rehearsing lines for an upcoming and seemingly "candid" interview with Caveh Zahedi:

On April 15th, Matty revealed that he inspired the rat from Flushed Away. Now, Matty probably didn't actually inspire the character of Roddy St. James (although he really was close to one of the film's writers, Ian La Frenais, who was his mother's godfather), but... with this joke, he had just cemented his own "vermin" moniker that would continue to be used to insult him to this very day (sound familiar? 🐍)

What was it Taylor said? Ah, that's right:

"If you make the joke first and you make the joke better, then it's not as funny when other people call you a name."

Almost a week later, on April 21st, Matty would go on a four-minute speech on stage in Auckland, New Zealand, "finally" providing an apology and an explanation for the whole podcast debacle:

"It's not because I'm annoyed that me joking got misconstrued, it's because I don't want Ice Spice to think I'm a dick. I love you, Ice Spice. I'm so sorry. But I don't want to be… I don't want anything to get misconstrued to be mean. I just want to say, 'Hello. This is a bit embarrassing. I'm sorry if I get it wrong. We all get it wrong'. You know? Like, I just have to do it in public and then apologize to Ice Spice, and my life's just a bit weird. But I am genuinely sorry if I've upset her because I fucking love her."

Ignoring this pre-existing apology, on May 17th, Taylor's fans (allegedly) penned the "SpeakUpNow campaign", urging Taylor to dump Matty. On May 30th, Brad Troemel published the "Taylor Swift Fan Union", a series of satirical infographics targeting Taylor's most entitled fans.

Taylor and Matty were reported to have broken up on June 5th, just one month after Taylor had the nerve to date someone of her own volition, without first seeking fan permission!

And things were about to get even worse for Matty, as his labelmate Rina Sawayama would go on to call him out at Glastonbury in June:

"I wrote this next song because I was sick and tired of micro-aggressions. So, tonight, this song goes out to a white man who watches Ghetto Gaggers and mocks Asian people on a podcast. He also owns my masters. I've had enough."

Yet… Matty resigned from his position at Dirty Hit at the beginning of April, which, at the very least, should call the ownership of Rina's masters into question. Speaking of Rina, she's historically a friend of Matty's! Here she is photographed with Matty's dog Mayhem in 2020. And when Matty took over The Face podcast, they asked some of The 1975's friends to cover their songs… Rina was selected and chose 'Love It If We Made It'.

Speaking of Matty's friends… Bleachers were hand-picked to perform at The 1975's Finsbury Park show on July 2nd, where Matty would label Jack his best friend. Yet, just one month later, Matty would be allegedly "disinvited" from Jack's wedding.

In August 2023, Bleachers would go on to join The 1975's Dirty Hit label (alongside Rina). That same month, an episode of The Ion Pack podcast featuring Matty was published, revealing that Brad Troemel "lit a fire" underneath him "massively". Yep! The guy from earlier who created the "Taylor Swift Fan Union". And, though the podcast was published in August, it was filmed all the way back in November 2022…

Brad would go on to help co-write The 1975's 'Still At Their Very Best' Tour, which would launch in September 2023 (yep, the same month as Matty and Taylor's new relationships!):

During the SATVB tour, on February 13, 2024, Matty would describe what he does on stage as "simulating a breakdown", and, as was always intended, Matty's fans largely fell into the trap he laid… (or, at least, I personally saw a lot of speculation regarding Matty's possible drug relapse and mental health issues all over Reddit and Twitter, based solely on his on-stage performance - well, that and gossip blinds, I'm sure).

But... Matty called it a year earlier, in February 2023, when he said:

"I like these lines of like, blurring between what people consider is real. Because with the internet now, there's also a forum. So, there's a lot of conversation right now about like, whether I'm back on drugs, or whether the show is real."

Remember that pesky podcast that started all this mess? The Adam Friedland Podcast? Well, it's co-created and produced by Nick Mullen. Check out this file Matty shared on December 28th, 2023:

It's a little blurry, so let me actually type it out:

UNTITLED MH PILOT "Canceled" Written by Nick Mullen

Some interesting things started happening at The 1975's shows this February. Matty began playing the clip from Q with Tom Power during Consumption (the one about how he could fuck his career and do a Chinese accent if he wanted). And, in the midst of a seemingly earnest speech, Matty breaks the fourth wall, encouraging his fans to be skeptical of things they see on screens - even seemingly sincere moments...

I'll close this out by reminding anyone who happens to have read this far that Matty grew up watching tabloids profit off of made-up lies about his parents, and the media might have destroyed his relationship with the woman of his dreams (we'll see!) Basically, if anyone has the means and motive to troll the media, it's Matty Healy.

[n01mistahphonelover]

HELLOOO!!!!

IT'S MEEE!! TOILET, THE ONE, THE ONLY [well not actually only but yeah-] CO-HOST OF INANIMATE INSANITY!!!!! >:D

NICKNAMES!!!! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

(o/////o " ) = ONLY MISTAH PHONE CAN SAY THAT.

( ˶°ㅁ°) !! = MISTAH PHONE/CLOSE PEOPLE ONLY!

ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ = YESSS YESSSS ILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVEIT!!!!!

ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ = I LIKE IT!!

( •̀ - •́ ) = I don't like it :[

ᕙ( ᗒᗣᗕ )ᕗ = NO.

NAME VARIATIONS!!

𐙚 Toilet ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𐙚 Toi ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𐙚 TT ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𐙚 Mistah Toilet ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

PREFIXES!!

𐙚 Sir ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𐙚 Mistah ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

𐙚 Ma'am ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𐙚 Madam ᕙ( ᗒᗣᗕ )ᕗ

𐙚 Miss/Ms. ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

𐙚 Mx. ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𐙚 Sai (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) [What the beans does that mean??]

𐙚 Bro ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𐙚 Girl ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𐙚 Dude ( •̀ - •́ )

𐙚 Mate ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𐙚 Man ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𐙚 Buddy ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

𐙚 Chum ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𐙚 Pal ᕙ( ᗒᗣᗕ )ᕗ

𐙚 Friend ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

OTHER!!

𐙚 Boyfriend (o/////o " ) [PLATONICALLY!]

𐙚 Girlfriend ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ [DEPENDS!]

𐙚 Bae ᕙ( ᗒᗣᗕ )ᕗ

𐙚 Boo (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) [ehhh...]

𐙚 Baby ( •̀ - •́ )

𐙚 Sweetie ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ [DEPENDS!]

𐙚 Honey ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! [DEPENDS!]

𐙚 Leng ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! [PLATONICALLY!]

𐙚 Fit (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) [UHHHH- IDK]

𐙚 "You Dunny" (o/////o " )

𐙚 Trash Panda ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

𐙚 Idiot ( •̀ - •́ )

𐙚 Racoon ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𐙚 Racky (o/////o " )

𐙚 Religious Dr. Fizz drinker ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

ABOUT ME!!!๋࣭ ⭑⚝ (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

𖹭 I'M A DEMI-BOY!

𖹭 I USE HE/THEY/IT!!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𖹭 I AM TRANS FROM FTM!! •ᴗ•

𖹭 I USE ANY GENDER TERMS!!

𖹭 I AM FROM ENGLAND!!! 🇬🇧

𖹭 I HAVE AUTISM!!

𖹭 I ALSO HAVE TRICHOTALLOMANIA AND ATTACHMENT ISSUES SO I GET ATTACHED TO OTHERS A. LOT.

𖹭 I'M AN INSOMNIAC AND ALWAYS HAVE TOO MUCH ENERGY!! (っ˕ -｡)ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

𖹭 I LOVE THE COLOUR PINK!!!!!! 𖹭

𖹭 I LOVE CATS AND RACOONS!! :33 ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

𖹭 I TYPE IN BIG LETTERS A LOT!! ☆

𖹭 I LOVE USING SYMBOLS!! ↓

LITERALLY ME :0

𐙚OTHER STUFF! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

I LIKE LISTENING TO MUSIC!!

SONGS I LIKE A LOT!!!

I AM AN ARTIST AND I LOVE TO DRAW A LOT!!

I MOSTLY LOVE TO DOODLE TRADITIONALLY AND DIGITALLY!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𖹭 IBIS PAINT>>

𖹭 WHITEBOARD FOX>>

MISTAH PHONE IS BY BIGGEST IDOL AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCHH!!!! /P (o/////o " )

MISTAH PHONE>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

GO CHECK HIM OUT TOO!!! (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) ↓

𖹭 @mefone4-cookielover ⤶ ⤶ ⤶ ⤸

DNI. (⊙ _ ⊙ )

If any of you are this, I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU HERE. SHOO. ᕙ( ᗒᗣᗕ )ᕗ

Racists, homophobes, transphobes, abelists, zoophiles, any other basic offensive criteria. NO.

People with s3xu4l humour. THAT’S GROSS.. Suggestive jokes are alright, but actually full on jokes about it, I DONT LIKE. Also jokes that s3xu4l1s3 things that are perfectly normal or jokes about r4p3/4ss4ult make me SUPER uncomfy. Also jokes about pregnancy. I don't like it!

People with OVERLY cruel humour/just mean in general. I'm a sensitive person sometimes so if not specified as a joke, that stuff can upset me.

Mistah Phone haters. GET OUT. /j

MEPAD. /JJJJ

People who gatekeep characters. I get that you kin them for a reason, but it's not fair to gatekeep! People can kin/relate to/like the character you kin too!

[Mod message! :D]

[✮ Hiya! Some of you probably know me as Marz/Cuppa/Cheese Pretzels! This is another one of my fiction kins blogs!]

[Here's my main account if you want more about me personally or just wanna have a look! ---> @ikintwosm]

[✮ This is a kin blog, meaning I use it in order to cope, as I kin Toilet. I kin him as I relate to his protectiveness in a way, and I am hyperactive and loud sometimes, we're also both British! A lot of this blog may have my own headcanons implemented so if anything is inaccurate, it's my interpretation! Also, some headcanons I have may not apply to me as a person, so please remember that I do not relate to all the headcanons I give him!]

[✮ Feel free to speak to Toilet, ask him questions, whatever!]

[✮ Just to clarify, in NO MEANS do I gatekeep characters. If you're also a Toilet ficktin/fictive, feel free to interact!]

I LOVE YOU ALL!!! 𖹭 (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)