#the beatles going to pride

[ghostie-boo]

"I know I'll often stop and think about them,"

Happy McLennon Day <3 Here's to 67 years of the greatest musical duo to ever walk the Earth

[loadingmercurywithapitchfork]

50 49 albums you need to understand me (template/inspired by: @/surrealisticduvet)

[atlas-dr0wned]

as much as i dislike being trans sometimes, it makes me smile when i think about how happy me when i was 9, who couldn’t figure out why he didn’t fit in with all the other girls, felt uncomfortable with his name but didn’t like other girl names and loved the beatles more than life itself, would be if he knew we’d named ourselves after one of our favourite songs by the band that’s our longest lasting special interest

[reallyromealone]

The demon and his son

Kokushibo x son! Reader

Warnings: fluff, male reader

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

(name) was a happy toddler, the little boy often seen watching his dad train or playing with his few toys his dad bought him.

Kokushibo sat on the engawa of their small home, enough space for the two of them as the demon watched his son a few feet before him play with his stuffed toys.

The boy had a plush doll of each moon, a gift from Doma after kokushibo left the other demon to watch his kid, the other surprisingly not bad at it.

It helped having countless loyal cult members fretting over the small child.

"Papa! Look!" (Name) said crouching before a beatle "what is it?"

"That's a rhinoceros beetle" his father said calmly as he stood beside his son "can we keep him?"

"No"

"Why?" (Name) pouted and the other stared "he has business to attend to" he said simply, having learned fast since he acquired the child as an infant it was easier to just lie with these things.

"Bye bye Mr beetle!" (Name) said as the beetle crawled off to go attend to his business.

It surprised the other moons and even Muzan that kokushibo had a child, the demon wasn't exactly the child rearing type but surprisingly he did well.

"You will be staying with Akaza for the next few days" kokushibo said to his son as he watched him eat his dinner, the demon couldn't eat and frankly food smelt like shit to him but his son needed it so he tolerated it.

Akaza lived in Tokyo, it was easy for him to get what he needed and people tended to leave him alone.

(Name) liked his uncle Akaza, the demon quite attentive with him and between his dad teaching him swordsmanship, Akaza taught him martial arts.

"Humans are weak so you need to learn to defend yourself" Akaza often said to the small boy, feeling a strange sense of pride when the boy who had claimed him as an uncle learned something new.

Kokushibo was usually gone for a few days to a week but he always came back with something for his son, usually a treat or a toy.

He knew he wasn't the most talkative and could be distant but he did care about his son as much as the demon could.

Stays with Doma were different, unlike Akaza Doma treated him like a doll in a way and enjoyed spoiling the boy.

Doma didn't have feelings, well not really but he did feel weirdly protective of the small boy.

Like he did with his petal, though he knew his "nephew" wouldn't do something to annoy him.

Or betray him.

Doma usually kept the tiny human in his lap and fed him treats or went about his business as the boy played with his toys.

The moons were on high alert though, slayers have been more active and thus Kokushibo was far more protective of his son.

(Name) could be an easy target.

And he was.

The slayer's believed the child was being held captive for some horrid reason and decided they were going to save the boy.

The demon slayers got the heads of the ones they sent back.

"Papa! You're back!" (Name) squealed as he ran to his dad, the demon silent but relieved his son was safe and handed his son some sweets "thank you papa" he said sweetly and the demon ruffled the boys hair "you're welcome"

[star-dust-shark]

do you have any funny will solace headcanons to share?

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED!!!

. Will named his guitar Gary ( Gary Guitar ) and so he'll randomly be like "yeah I'm gonna go play with Gary" and people get confused because he has a boyfriend

. he wears crocs with socks and has croc charms that say the cheesiest shit with inpirational quotes, your mom jokes, song lyrics and bisexual pride stuff

. he's got like a million pickup lines that he'll randomly spring on Nico ( bonus: he does finger guns and clicks his tongue afterwards usually following with a horribly done wink )

. he gets obsessed with people sometimes ( almost like a hyperfixation but with something real ) and will start droning on about how beautiful Nico is

. a stim of his is to excitedly fan himself but he always plays it off that he's fanning himself bc he's so hot

. you can't find a picture of him making a normal face it's not possible

. he gets the words marshmellow and mushroom mixed up so he'll acccidentally tell people that he went marshmellow picking or that he wants marshmellows on his pizza

. he gets those really annoying shirts with horrible slogans like "I'm a master baiter" with a fish on it, "I <3 HOT DADS" , and "if you can read my shirt good job you're reading my shirt"

. when he plays a A minor chord every fucking time he'll either say "a minoooooooor" ( like from not like us ) or he'll say "haha guys look I'm fingering a minor"

. he has like twenty thousand pieces of rocky horror picture show merch and he spends like all of his money on said merch

. he'll listen to a song and pick out the most romantic parts and tell Nico that it reminds him of him but Will really likes Alex G and Corbon Amodio and Cavetown so it's sweet and weirdly sad at the same time

. he can do really really good star wars character impressions ( specifically darth vader, chewbaka, and yoda ) and he'll scare the shit out of people by randomly making the yoda vs dooku noise ( if you're a real one you'll know what I mean by that )

. sometimes he'll talk to ananimate objects and make them talk back to him and one day Nico walks in on him talking to a pen that's stuck in his pencil case and Will yells: "OH MY GODS JUST COME OUT" and then he laughs to himself and does a highpitched voice for the pen and says "I...I'm gay"

. he'll say something flirtatious to Nico and then be like "shit autocorrect" DURING A VERBAL CONVERSATION.

. copes with humour so he'll randomly start playing blackbird by the beatles on guitar in a horrible voice and be like "haha get it because I have trauma with birds"

. jokingly says he's transphobic because he's from Texas so out of nowhere he'll be like "eeEEwwww TRaNs pEoPLe TheY'Re So GroSSSsssSs"

. calls Nico gay as an insult and Nico will be like "Will we've been dating for months"

. says no homo after like hot make out sessions with Nico ( scene: Nico and Will sitting in a bed shirts off with hickeys all over eachother and Will just out of no where "haha no homo though" end scene )

. uses gen alpha slang a ton ( like too much ) so he'll randomly yell "GYAT" at Nico or say that something's sigma

. has braces but eats popcorn and then spends hours trying to get bits out

. MAKES SO MANY 69 JOKES ITS HORRIFYING

I have more too

[lick-me-lennon22]

Beatles X Model!Reader Headcanons

(this prompt was requested by the lovely @sugaredlavenderhearts 💕 hope you all enjoy this one!!)

John

John is incredibly (and perhaps a bit overly) protective of you, always reviewing gigs before you take them on to be sure they aren't exploitative or suspicious in any way

he basically acts as a second agent/manager

your career as a model tends to bring out the jealous and possessive aspects of John's personality

despite this, he really enjoys exploring different aesthetics and getting to play around with art and photography with you

he appreciates your artistic side and loves to collaborate with you on creative projects and experimental photoshoots, adding some excitement to your portfolio

you two mesh very well, your modeling skills blending seamlessly with John's own artistic vision

he also won't pass up the chance to brag about your looks and talent in conversation with the other lads

Paul

Paul takes a genuine interest in your career, offering encouragement every step of the way

he attends every show and photoshoot to show his support - and to see his gorgeous partner in action, of course

he'll often coordinate his outfits to match yours when the two of you go out on dates or to events

he loves nothing more than to show you off and wants everyone to see the two of you together

he can't help but shower you with compliments whenever possible

you're 100% Paul's creative muse and artistic inspiration

he's written countless love songs inspired by your elegance and beauty, expressing his admiration for you through his music

George

George deeply admires your ability to express yourself through fashion

he respects your dedication to your craft and you provide him with a deeper understanding of the art form

he loves to offer his perspective and insight on different shoots and projects you take part in, not afraid to speak up when he feels strongly about a creative decision or idea

during interviews, he often shifts the focus of the conversation to you and your accomplishments, beaming with pride as he speaks about you

he promotes you whenever he gets the chance, using his influence to propel you further into the limelight

Ringo

Ringo would be your biggest cheerleader, attending every show and shoot you book

he enjoys acting as your companion at events, reveling in the excitement and glamor of the industry

he likes to joke around with you between takes, using his humor to get you to lighten up and to dispel any nerves that may get to you

he's fascinated by your experiences in the fast-paced world of fashion, listening attentively to every story you share with him

when you're alone together, Ringo loves to take his own headshots of you, making silly faces behind the camera to get more genuine smiles and capture some candid shots of his gorgeous partner

[torchlitinthedesert]

1964: eyes of the storm

At the weekend I went to the Paul McCartney exhibition at London's National Portrait Gallery.

I'd seen some of the pictures, but I still wasn't prepared for just how fond it is. Tumblr is enchanted by Soft John, and yes, absolutely - but the whole exhibition has this warmth and freshness to it. I'm sure some of it's smart curation and hindsight, but the observation and attention and choice of subjects is so full of affection.

Some of the earliest shots are at a London gig. There are portraits of George's mum and dad, visiting their boy, looking alert and intelligent and bursting with pride. Because of course they are, and of course Paul took pictures of them.

It's late 1963, but the Finsbury Park Astoria looks stuck in the 1950s, all post-war austerity and support acts with towering teddy boy hair. Backstage looks cramped and freezing and dark: no wonder they went to the pub to try to do a photoshot. Then they go to Paris and the world opens up around them.

And Paul is so thrilled by it all. He's trying arty camera angles (some don't work). He's putting little crosses on his contact sheets, using a special pencil like he's seen the proper photographers do, because he's a complete nerd. And of course they were all arty nerds, trying out techniques and watching other artists (in whatever medium), getting excited and doing their art projects and trying to be cool.

Some are technically not-very-good photographs: Brian laughing right into the camera, George trying to waterski, both out of focus and both radiant with joy. Some are genuinely good portraits (Ringo particularly).

By the time they get to America, he's more confident and some of the on-the-hoof pics are striking: photographing the photographers, alarmed by armed police (with like. real guns. and ammunition. right there, on the other side of the car window, right there).

And so much people-watching. He watches them, and they watch back, looking up as the Beatle circus goes past. Airport workers with their hands over their ears because the screaming's so loud, or catching Paul's eye to mime playing the guitar. A lovely one of a railroad worker smiling back at him, another of a girl in a headscarf, absorbed in her own thoughts. One of their security falling asleep on the job (it's on a boat, they're probably fine). Mal, and Neil, and George Martin with Judy, and Cynthia. He's interested in people. He's amazed by sunlight. He's happy.

[onyxsboxes]

After a bit of delay, here are the songs titles from the LCAPT Clegan playlist

1. Learn to Fly by Foo Fighters 2. Clearest Blue by CHVRCHES 3. I'm Not In Love by 10cc 4. Death and All His Friends by Coldplay 5. Til Kingdom Come by Coldplay 6. The Queen Of All Everything by Ott 7. Love song from a dog by Shovels & Rope ft. gregory alan isakov 8. If we were vampires by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit 9. Passenger seat by Death Cab for Cutie

10. In our bedroom after the war by Stars 11. Early mornin’ rain by Peter, Paul and Mary 12. I was made for loving you by Yungblud cover 13. Visions of Gideon by Sufjan Stevens 14. Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens 15. Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley 16. The Roads by Jonah Kagen 17. Next to You by John Vincent III 18. Seen My Man (Wisconsin Demo) by Trixie Mattel 19. Beneath Oak Trees by Dylan Gossett

20. Heaven is a Bedroom by TV Girl 21. Wicked Games by The Weeknd 22. Itchy Teeth by Marika Hackman 23. Breakup by Ashton Irwin 24. Work Song by Hozier 25. I’m Low on Gas and you Need a Jacket by Pierce The Veil 26. Betting On Us by Myles Smith 27. I'm the Sinner by Jared Benjamin 28. Running to You by Jamie Drake & Jamie Jackson 29. Look After You by Aron Wright

30. Smokestacks by Layla 31. Run To You by CJ Starnes 32. Gale song by The Lumineers 33. White Ferrari by Frank Ocean 34. Can You Hear the Rain Love by Richard Hawley 35. Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey 36. Talk Show Host by Radiohead 37. Untold by RY X 38. Lovers Rock by TV Girl 39. Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers

40. I Will by The Beatles 41. Glimpse of Us by Joji 42. Somethin' Stupid by Frank Sinatra & Nancy Sinatra 43. When the party is over by Billie Eilish 44. I love you by Billie Eilish 45. Blue jeans by Lana Del Rey 46. The secret marriage by Sting 47. Wicked game by Ursine Vulpine 48. Love Me Like You Used To by Lord Huron 49. Need you Now by Lady A

50. Strange Birds by Birdy 51. Old Money by Lana Del Rey 52. The Night We Met by Lord Huron 53. Piano Man by Billy Joel 54. Alley Rose by Conan Fray 55. Good Luck, babe by Chappel Roan 56. Be Nice To Me by The Front Bottoms 57. Saturn by Sleeping At Last 58. So Long, London by Taylor Swift 59. From Eden by Hozier

60. I Should Live in Salt by The National 61. Demons by The National 62. Graceless by The National 63. Your Mind Is Not Your Friend by The National, Phoebe Bridgers 64. Don’t Swallow the Cap by The National 65. Dreaming by The National 66. This Isn’t Helping by The National, Phoebe Bridgers 67. Issues by Julia Michaels 68. Gorecki by Lamb 69. Ends Of The Earth by Lord Huron

70. Dark Red by Steve Lacy 71. Fireproof by Coleman Hell 72. Heavydirtysoul by Twenty One Pilots 73. All I Want Is You by Barry Louis Polisar 74. I Found by Amber Run 75. Beautiful by Josh Zandman 76. Budapest by George Ezra 77. Be Together by Major Lazer 78. On The Nature Of Daylight by Max Richter 79. Guiding Light by Mumford & Sons

80. My Blood by Twenty One Pilots 81. My Madonna by Dexter Freebish 82. Chemicals Between Us by Bush 83. Protect Me From What I Want by Placebo 84. I Feel Loved by Depeche Mode 85. Gimme Some Lovin’ by The Spencer Davis Group 86. Little Light Of Love by Eric Serra 87. Fire and Flood by Vance Joy 88. Pride (In The Name Of Love) by Clivillés & Cole 89. Holdin’ Out by The Lumineers

90. If I Go, I’m Goin by Gregory Alan Isakov 91. Letting The Cables Sleep by Bush 92. This Feeling by Chainsmokers 93. Me And You by Barry Louis Polisar 94. Silver sable by Cigarettes after sex 95. How I Learned to Love the Bomb by Glass Animals 96. Hellofazoo by Until the Ribbon Breaks 97. Mr. Forgettable by David Kushner 98. John My Beloved by Sufjan Stevens 99. Alan by Perfume genius

100. One line by PJ harvey 101. Putting The Dog To Sleep by the antlers 102. In My Arms by Alex g 103. Certainty by Big thief 104. Angel In The Snow by Elliott smith 105. Nothing Matters by The Last Dinner Party 106. The Loneliest by Måneskin 107. Till forever falls apart by Ashe, Finneas 108. Whish that you were here by Florence + The Machine 109. I Forget Where We Were by Ben Howard

110. Bite by Troye Sivan 111. Lowlife by Poppy 112. Real Love Song by Nothing But Thieves 113. Like You Do by Joji 114. Be My baby by The Ronettes 115. Burn by Tom Walker 116. Lucky by Bif Naked 117. Fair by The Amazing Devil 118. Bitch by Meredith Brooks 119. I wish you were a girl by 12 RODS

120. All i think about now by Pixies 121. I know by Fiona Apple 122. Sweet tooth by Cavetown 123. Flawless by The Neighborhood 124. Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley 125. Simply the best by Billianne 126. I remember everything by Zach Bryan, Kacey Musgraves 127. Coal by Dylan Gossett 128. i am not who i was by Chance Peña 129. I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski

130. Two slow dancers by Mitski 131. Lucky to get him by Aly and AJ 132. Crack baby by Mitski 133. I don't smoke by Mitski 134. Smoke gets in your eyes by Helen Forest 135. Love by Daughter 136. Can’t Help Falling in Love - DARK by Tommee Profitt, brooke 137. Chills - Dark Version by Mickey Valen, Joey Myron 137,5. Skyline by Sibewest 138. Beautiful Crime by Tamer 139. Act natural by Margaret Glaspy

140. Betray my heart by D'Angelo 141. I will be your friend by Sade 142. Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli 143. I Didn’t Know by Sofia Carson 144. You by A Great Big World 145. This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush 146. Can't you see - acoustic by Matthew and the Atlas 147. Cowboy by Jack Van Cleaf 148. Feels like Home by Caamp 149. Carry You Home by Alex Warren

150. Belong Together by Mark Ambor 151. The First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes 152. Kaleidoscope by A Great Big World 153. Monsters of the North by The National Parks 154. The great war by Taylor Swift 155. Free by Florence + The Machine 156. I know the end by Phoebe Bridgers 157. Another Man’s Jeans by Ashe 158. I’ve Told You Now by Sam Smith 159. Love Me by Elvis Presley

160. Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier 161. Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish 162. Take me home, country roads by John Denver 163. Army Dreamers by Kate Bush 164. I'm No Angel by Dido 165. We’ll Meet Again by Johnny Cash 166. Cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other by Orville Peck 167. If We Were Vampires by Noah Kahan, Wesley Schultz 168. You Belong To Me by Jo Stafford 169. Goodnight Irene by Frank Sinatra

170. All I Want by Kodaline 171. Me and my Husband by Mitski 172. The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is out to get us by Sufjan Stevens 173. As the World cave in by Sarah Cothran 174. Dead of Night by Orville Peck 175. invisible string by Taylor Swift 176. The Ghost of You by My chemical Romance 177. We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn 178. Love in the Time Of Socialism by Yellow house 179. Northern Downpour by Panic! At The Disco

180. Better in the Morning by Birdtalker 181. doomsday by Lizzy McAlpine 182. Guilty by Al Bowlly 183. Heat Lightning by Mitski 184. everything i wanted by Billie Eilish 185. Blood Moon by Josiah and the Bonnevilles 186. Night Terror by Laura Marling 187. Vengeance Is Sleeping by Neko Case 188. Finally Stop Dreaming by Dylan Gossett 189. The Yawning Grave by Lord Huron

190. Learning To Fly by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 191. Hounds of Love by The Futureheads 192. Now I'm in it by HAIM 193. Stand Back by Stevie Nicks 194. Moonlight of Your Room by Joe Pug 195. Blue by Mai Yamane 196. Call Your Girlfriend by Robyn 197. Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers 198. Summer Of '69 by Bryan Adams 199. Fix you by Coldplay

200. Sun Bleached Flies by Ethel Cain 201. I walk the Line by Halsey 202. The Greatest by Billie Eilish 203. I'll be seeing you by Billie Holiday 204. We will not be Lovers by The Waterboys 205. Triptych by Samia 206. In a Jar by Dinosaur Jr. 207. Dionne by The Japanese House, Justin Vernon 208. Nothing Like by Mannequin pussy 209. True Love Waits by Radiohead

210. Weird Fish/Arpeggi by Radiohead 211. I’m a Fool to Want You by Billie Holiday 212. A Life of Arctic Sounds by Modest Mouse 213. Soldier Boy by The Shirelles 214. Casual by Chappel Roan 215. Ruined by Adrianne Lenker 216. Without You by Tobias Jesso Jr. 217. That's Where I Am by Maggie Rogers 218. Die Young by Sylvab Esso 219. Violet hill by Coldplay

220. You made me love you by Patsy Cline 221. Smoke gets in your eyes by Eartha Kitt 222. Piece of my heart by Erma Franklin 223. Love and anger by Kate Bush 224. Guilty by Johnny Desmond 225. I Can’t Begin to Tell You by Bing Crosby 226. People Will Say We’re in Love by Frank Sinatra 227. You’ll Never Know by Dick Haymes 228. You’d Be So Nice To Come Home To by Dinah Shore 229. Speeding Cars by Walking On Cars

230. Girl Crush by Harry Style 231. Fine Line by Harry Style 232. Bittersuite by Billie Eilish 233. Et même après je t'aimerai by Hoshi 234. Tourner dans le vide by Indila 235. What was I made For? by Billie Eilish 236. Maybe by James Arthur 237. Happy Together by Gerard Way, Ray Toro 238. Dandelions by Ruth B. 239. When the Darkness Comes by Shelby Merry

240. Silver tongues by Louis Tomlinson 241. Telepathic by Starset 242. Always by Isak Danielson 243. Like real people Do by Hozier 244. Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls 245. Can you hold me by NF, Britt Nicole 246. Moondust by Jaymes Young 247. Maps - triple j Like A version by Camp Cope 248. We made it by Louis Tomlinson 249. Adore you by Harry Style

250. Love song by Lana Del Rey 251. Satellite by Harry Style 252. Late night Talking by Harry Style 253. Home by Edith Whiskers 254. Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift 255. The Light by CHPTRS 256. Started With You by CHPTRS 257. City Lights (Symphonic Version) by HAEVN 258. This Is Why I Need You by Jesse Ruben 259. Never Stop (Wedding Version) by Safetysuit

260. Sacrifice by Elton John 261. Who we are by Hozier 262. Politik by Coldplay 263. All I need by Radiohead 264. Can't pretend by Tom Odell 265. Would Anyone Care by Citizen Soldier 266. Hold My Hand by Lady Gaga 267. Warriors by Willyecho 268. Brother by Kodaline 269. Protector by City wolf

270. Texas reznikoff by Mitski 271. Pin by Grimes 272. I'm your man by Mitski 273. Haunting by Halsey 274. Twin flame by Weyes blood 275. Why Can’t The Dark Leave Me Alone? by Toni Fisher 276. No Other Love by Jo Stafford 277. Your Best American Girl by Mitski 278. Careless Whispers by George Michael 279. Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

280. Sidelines by Phoebe Bridges 281. not a lot, just forever by Adrianne Lenker 282. forwards beckon rebound by Adrianne Lenker 283. Norman fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Rey 284. Long Long Time by Linda Ronstadt 285. Break by alex_g_offline 286. Some Velvet morning by Nancy Sinatra, Lee Hazlewood 287. Overtime by Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Kacey Musgraves 288. The John Wayne by Little Green Cars 289. Pale blue Eyes by The Velvet Underground

290. You'll Never Know (78rpm version) by Frank Sinatra, Bobby Tucker Singers 291. Come on Mess me up by Cub sport 292. While I can by Keaton henson 293. Flying :)) by Tom Odell 294. Cornflower blue by Flower Face 295. Remember by Seinabo Sey, Jacob Banks 296. Once more to see you by Mitski 297. Back to the old house by The Smiths 298. Symphonia IX by Current Joys 299. So real by Jeff Buckley

300. Half return by Adrianne Lenker 301. Fade into you by Mazzy Star 302. All We Ever Do is Talk by Del Water Gap 303. Dirty Little Secret by Artemas 304. Too Sweet by Hozier 305. Anyways I Love You by Wild Rivers 306. like you’re god by Mehro 307. Size too small by Sufjan Stevens 308. Cheers Darlin' by Damien Rice 309. Lotus Flower by Radiohead

310. Twilight Time by The Platters 311. Because of You by Tony Bennett 312. if i needed someone by The Beatles 313. Standing next to You by Jungkook 314. Falling away with You by Muse 315. Exist for Love by AURORA 316. Sata vuotto by BEHM 317. Blood Sport by Sleep Token 318. Oblivion by SYML 319. Timezone by Måneskin

320. Own my mind by Måneskin 321. Pushing Up Daisies (Love Alive) by Brothers Osborne 322. Unbroken by Tim McGraw 323. I Was Born To Love You by Queen 324. You’re My Best Friend by Queen 325. Think I’m In Love With You by Chris Stapleton, Dua Lipa 326. Something To Talk About by Bonnie Raitt 327. Parachute by Chris Stapleton 328. Love The Lonely Out Of You by Brothers Osborne 329. Here Tonight (The Acoustic Sessions) by Brett Young, Charles Kelley

330. Stay A Little Longer by Brothers Osborne 331. The End by Halsey 332. Birds of a feather by Billie Eilish 333. Found Heaven by Conan Gray 334. Down bad by Taylor Swift 335. I do by Renee Rapp 336. The good I'll do by Zach Bryan 337. Half Light by BANNERS 338. Resistance by Muse 339. Far from home (the raven) by Sam Tinnesz

340. Francis forever by Mitski 341. I love you by RIOPY 342. This must be the place (naive melody) 2005 by Talking Heads 343. Maps by Yeah yeah yeahs 344. Cinnamon Girl by Lana del rey 345. I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen 346. Fire on Fire by Sam Smith 347. I'm Making Believe by The Inkspots and Ella Fitzgerald 348. Watch Over You by Alter Bridge 349. Summer song by Remy bond

350. Off to the races by Lana Del Rey 351. Almost (sweet music) by Hozier 352. giveuwhatuwant by The Driver Era 352,5. Birds of a feather by Billie Eilish 353. Big Mike’s by Dijon 354. Simulation Swarm by Big Thief 355. I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys 356. Little Bit More by Mk.gee 357. Be Well by Ama Lou

[mrepstein]

The official verdict was misadventure. A lot of people have said that Brian had committed suicide, and you know how rumors tend to spread. I will never believe that, for though Brian and I were not very close, I did feel we were friends. He had too much to live for to take his own life. He was a lonely person in many ways, but the Beatles were his pride and joy, and I know he would have lived for them, if not for himself.

Mal Evans on the death of Brian Epstein (Living the Beatles Legend by Kenneth Womack) // The quote is from Living the Beatles’ Legend: Or 200 Miles to Go - Mal’s unpublished manuscript.

[juvenilefrogg]

HOT TAKE!!

I don't expect everyone to understand me or relate to this but just because someone likes Harry Potter doesn't mean they're not allies. It's not a facade if someone is a Potterhead and still claims to be an ally.

A lot of people believe in "separate art from the artist". The famous painter Pablo Picasso was such a great artist, widely known for the cubist movement. You may also know about his blue period and might pity him. But then again Picasso as a person has done very questionable things. He is known to have treated women poorly and had many affairs throughout his life.

Now just because he was a great artist doesn't mean he is not accountable for his poor actions and choices but his actions surely do not make him a bad artist. I can accept that he is a bad person and yet still admit that he was a great artist.

Legendary singer, songwriter and lyrical genius John Lennon is well known in the music industry. Surely we all have listened to his songs at least once. The legendary rock band The Beatles gave us so many bangers.

Beautiful Boy by John Lennon is one of the songs that I adore so much. I just love the showcase of the fraternal love in that song. But when you dig up the history of that song you find that it was written for Sean Lennon (child of John Lennon and Yoko Ono). It is not about Julian Lennon (child of John Lennon from his first wife, Cynthia Lennon). Now it just breaks my heart to think about this from Julian's pov. To have a dad who left your mom and then goes ahead to write a song about his other child with his 2nd wife. Don't get me wrong I'd be furious I'd be going crazy.

But oh to have a dad who'd love me enough to write such a song for me ahhhh I'd give up anything just to have that experience. From Sean's pov I'd be so in love with this song.

Now I am not justifying and romanticising what he did but how do I close my ears, shut my eyes, and turn my back on such a beautiful art? To say that there are plenty of other and far better songs and things to admire why do I have to stick to this particular song or thing is not fair. It is not fair to me as an admirer. You can't quantify my love. I can't transfer my love from one thing to another in an instant. Though it may die or fade away with time until then you'd just have to let me be. The heart wants what it wants.

Recently, Ariana Grande released her latest album, Eternal Sunshine, I am sure most of you already know about it and have listened to it. It's a hit you can't deny that. But when you get to know the story behind that album, the songs and whom they're written about and what they mean, you might want to cancel Ariana. And sure if you want to do that go ahead you're free to do that. But that doesn't mean everyone will. One can still like her songs and not be a supporter of cheating in a marriage. Fans who literally grew up listening to her songs can't just one day stop listening to her songs and thinking about her (at least not in my view). They might start to feel conflicted about her as a person tho but I am sure they'll still have some love left for her old hit songs.

We talk about not being judgemental, being liberal, and being open-minded so why are we still so constricted at the same time? Life and its choices aren't black and white most often you find yourself in the grey areas. Who are we to judge so easily? We as a queer community would get offended if someone judged us just for putting a pride flag on our profiles. So why are we judging just because someone has their Hogwarts house mentioned in their profile? One might say the first is homophobic but isn't the latter prejudice?

Mind you I am talking about the people, the allies who have nothing to do with the writer, who just enjoy the books, and the movies, who find comfort in that story, relate to characters and have loved them for years. What's their fault? All this hate just because they fell in love with the wrong franchise? Which had nothing to do with the trans community when they were created and enjoyed by the fans. One can take a stand and still love Harry Potter.

I am sure many people from the queer community itself are part of the fandom. Wolfstar shippers flood Tumblr with love and how most of them are queer. You can't say that they're transphobic.

Criticism is necessary I am not saying don't criticise the wrongs. If there's no criticism one might never know what they did wrong. Wrongs should never go unchecked.

Criticise the artist for their choices and actions. Don't hate someone who just fell in love with the art.

Don't turn a blind eye to the wrongs. Don't follow the artist blindly. Be mindful of your own choices. That's all you could do.

I don't have Hogwarts house mentioned in my profile. I dont even own the books. Sure I've read the books and watched the movies. But I sure as am not even gonna judge someone blindly if they've mentioned their Hogwarts house.

I respect all your views you might not agree with me and you don't even have to but I believe that you'd at least be respectful of my views. I most often don't even comment on controversial things out of fear of judgement and rejection but this is something that I need to get off my chest. I am not transphobic, I have never been. I respect everyone regardless of who they love. So here I am just keeping my views and hoping that you guys would at least be respectful enough and correct me if I said something wrong.

At the end of the day, I am just trying to find a place in this world.

[likeadevils]

if u make a playlist of Taylor Style beatles songs i would join it / save it jsyk lol (and other way around)

BRO IM STILL MAKING MY WAY THROUGH YOURS AND THINKING THOUGHTS! WHICH ARE NOW GOING DOWN HERE

hold me tight: structurally, i feel like she doesn’t have songs where she just repeats the same thing over and over?

if i fell: aggressively taylor song you are Correct

i'll follow the sun: FASCINATING CHOICE because in many ways this feels like the exact opposite of a taylor song?

yes it is: another correct take. very me and my stupid pride are sitting here alone

i've just seen a face: if this had a ranting bridge it would just be a taylor song

here there and everywhere: i thought about this one! “changing my life with a wave of her hand” very taylor sentiment

for no one: another one i thought of!! melodically i feel like it’s kinda taylor-y in a way i can’t express

penny lane: obviously this ended up winning for me but i will say my one thing about this is it’s a bit too whimsical? like taylor would never write “he likes to keep his fire engine clean. it’s a clean machine.”

she's leaving home: another aggressively taylor song. this one might actually be the winner i can’t believe i forgot about it

when i'm sixty-four: belongs on debut. which. fitting

hey jude: it’s been a secret wish of mine that taylor would one day have like. a proper wordless melody that the entire stadium could go absolutely nuts for. think like this or the oh-oh-oh-oh-ohhhhh-ohs from viva la vida. so this gets cut down just cause i’m waiting for her to find her na na na nananana’s

while my guitar gently weeps: kind of?

something: i also thought about this!! mostly cause it has the best bridge in a beatles song. like of all the songs i feel like something is the one with like. like taylor would write this melody and it would be the best song on folklore

two of us: you know. spiritually this is a speak now vault song

[d-criss-news]

‘Glee’ alum Darren Criss ready for National Christmas Tree Lighting ahead of Wolf Trap

His breakthrough role arrived on Fox’s “Glee” before winning an Emmy Award on FX’s “American Crime Story.”

This week, actor and singer Darren Criss performs live at the National Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony on The Ellipse outside the White House on Thursday night.

“This is my first year doing this particular event,” Criss told WTOP. “I’ve been lucky enough in my career to have done a number of things for the Bidens. That is a low-key humble brag. They haven’t decided to kick me off the invite list yet, but there’s still room! I could really biff it at the White House.”

He joins a star-studded lineup of Mickey Guyton, Dionne Warwick, Joe Walsh, Ledisi and St. Vincent.

“It’s a pretty cool list, man,” Criss said. “I just saw the list and I don’t know who printed the ad mat, but there’s no world in my mind where I would ever appropriately be anywhere higher or before the likes of St. Vincent, Renee Rapp. … When your name is with the likes of Joe Walsh, Dionne Warwick and many more, you can’t help but just have a huge wave of imposter syndrome.”

After that, “A Very Darren Crissmas” hits The Barns at Wolf Trap in Virginia on Saturday and Sunday.

“We’re just going from town to town spreading holiday cheer, man,” Criss said. “A lot of people put out holiday albums … just playing the very well-known songs. … My main goal in life is not necessarily as a performer but more like a curator. … If I had it my way, my Christmas album would have been 100 songs that no one’s ever heard of, but because I’m not a fool, I toe the line between familiar stuff but I do it in an unfamiliar way.”

Born in San Francisco in 1987, Criss grew up in loving “Star Wars,” “Transformers” and The Beatles. He pursued the arts as a theater major at the University of Michigan, performing in “Pride & Prejudice” and “A Few Good Men” before founding StarKid Productions to produce his own shows. That included the Harry Potter production “A Very Potter Musical,” which actually landed songs on the Billboard charts.

After appearing on the ABC series “Eastwick,” Criss’ big break came on Fox’s “Glee” (2010-2015), playing transfer student Blaine Anderson, who eventually married Kurt Hummel. Criss started out singing Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” and ended by writing the Emmy-nominated song “This Time” for the series finale.

“‘Glee’ was incredibly popular and progressive,” Criss said. “I lucked out and won the golden ticket because when I joined that show, it already had a significant degree of attention where one of the most popular characters was Kurt, somebody who was making waves … in the queer dialogue amongst popular culture, the conversation of gay teens and representation of queer people on mainstream, linear, network television.”

He reunited with Ryan Murphy to play the killer Andrew Cunanan in “American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace” (2017), beating out Antonio Banderas, Benedict Cumberbatch, Jeff Daniels, John Legend and Jesse Plemons to win the Emmy for Best Actor in a Limited Series.

“Actors wait a whole lifetime for parts like that,” Criss said. “This horrible thing happened because of a guy who happened to kind of look like me and be kind of my age and ethnicity. … Twenty years later, how do we make sure those tragedies don’t end up as these horrible things? To bring light to a darkness by illuminating the things around those tragedies, the other themes that led to how and why these things happened.”

On stage, his Broadway roles include replacing Daniel Radcliffe in “How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying” (2012), replacing Neil Patrick Harris in “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” (2015) and joining Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne in the revival of David Mamet’s play “American Buffalo” (2022).

“I’ve really gotten to check a lot of boxes in what I believe to still be the earlier part of life and career, boxes that I really did always dream of and worked hard to get to,” Criss said. “Now onto Christmas baby!”

[sequinsmile-x]

Waiting Room - Chapter 2

Everything had changed so quickly, her life torn out from under her in a matter of seconds, the trajectory of what it would look like going forward permanently altered. 

Emily's life changes forever when her parents are killed. Aaron just needs a job after his marriage breaks down and he answers an ad for a private security guard. If only the young woman he'd been hired to look after wasn't entirely resistant to his presence.

A Young Hotchniss AU

-x-

Hi friends!!

I am blown away by the reaction to chapter one - I love you guys so much and cannot wait to know what you think of this chapter.

And something that I am sure will surprise no one, this fic is now 5 chapters instead of four.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: Full list of warnings on the Master List, but this chapter does have smut

Words: 5.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She doesn’t understand it. 

She’s spent years avoiding making genuine connections out of fear of getting hurt, something she’s done her whole life if she was honest with herself, but she finds herself drawn to him after their conversation in the kitchen. She was fascinated by him, wanting to know more than the few bits and pieces she’d learned about him last month. She has a desire she doesn’t quite understand to mess with him, to ruffle his feathers and to make him smile, the dimples in his something she quickly learned made her stomach flip. 

She looks up from her book, bored of studying and research and smiles to herself as she watches him. He was sitting at the table with her, occasionally looking around the library, always focused on the lookout for potential threats. She knew he had a gun on him, ever present on his hip just in case he needed to use it. The thought of it made her shiver, and not with the anxiety guns had always caused her since that fateful night in the alley. 

She had to pull herself together. 

She tenses when he looks at her and their eyes meet, and she clears her throat, looking back down at the same page she’d read countless times, the information never quite registering. 

“What?” He asks, a half smile carving out one of his irresistible dimples in his left cheek. She looks back up at him, attempting to look nonchalant as she shrugs. 

“Nothing,” she replies, tapping her pen against the edge of the table. A moment of silence passes between them as she tries to get back to her studying, but curiosity wins out and she looks at him, “Can I ask you a question?” 

He smiles, “As long as I can ask you one afterwards.” 

It was a game of sorts that they’d started to play ever since their conversation in her kitchen. It was a way to get to know each other, to learn more about each other. They’d stuck to simple, unimportant things so far. He’d laughed when she told him her favourite artist was Siouxsie and the Banshees, and she’d done the same when he admitted that his was The Beatles. He’d smiled when she said her favourite colour was green and he told her that his was red.

Ever since he’d told her she’d found herself wearing more red clothing, a sense of pride rushing through her whenever he’d stare at her a beat too long.

She wanted to know more. Wanted more than the tiny inconsequentia facts they’d shared, or what she’d picked up on just by observing him. She wanted to know more, even if it came at the expense of revealing a little more about herself. 

“Of course,” she replies, waiting for him to nod in agreement, “Why did you take this job?” 

He tenses, his smile slipping off his face as he clears his throat. They’d stayed away from anything serious so far, purposely keeping it surface level, and he wonders what has changed that, what has made her break their unwritten rule. She tilts her head at him, curiosity painted across her beautiful face, and he sighs, finding the answer slipping past his lips, the taste almost bitter on his tongue as he speaks. 

“I got divorced,” he says simply, his hands clasped in front of him, “I needed a new start,” he smiles humourlessly, “And somewhere to live.” 

She curses herself internally, blowing out a harsh breath, “Shit, Aaron I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

He shakes his head, finding her so far uncharacteristic embarrassment endearing, “It’s fine, Emily,” he says, “Her name is Haley. We were childhood sweethearts, we got married young. It didn’t work out.” 

He hoped that one day he’d be able to think of Haley without being sad. That he’d remember the good times they had, how they helped each other escape the lives they’d once felt trapped in, without it all being marred by what they’d become. He’d always love her, but they’d grown apart. Growing sideways as well as forward, destined to drift away from each other, pushed apart by the things that had once brought them together. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again, smiling softly at him, “If it helps, from everything I know so far it’s her loss,” her smile gets wider as he smiles too, shaking his head softly at her, “Even if your taste in music sucks.” 

He laughs properly for the first time since they’d met, the sound loud, different to what she’d expected. Suddenly his dimples are her second favourite thing about him, and she resolves to hear it as much as she can. 

“Says you,” he replies, raising an eyebrow at her, and she bites the inside of her cheek, desperate to try to hold her smile back as much as she can. 

“Your turn,” she says, “And feel free to ask whatever you want.” 

He waits as he tries to pick what question to ask, to figure out what part of her mystery he wants to unravel first. He looks down at the books in front of her and then back up, “What made you decide to do a PhD in linguistics? I would have thought you were as good as a person could get at other languages.” 

She nods and clears her throat, “Well, for a start, linguistics is more than just being able to speak other languages,” she says, her smile fading as she sighs, “And it just felt like the easiest thing to do. When my parents…” she trails off, her gaze shifting back down to the book in front of her, “I was still doing my masters. After they were gone and everything changed I hung onto the one thing that felt familiar.” 

“School?” He asks and she nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “That and making Dave age prematurely.” 

He laughs again and she feels her stomach flip, her cheeks warm as he calms down, his expression turning serious, “Thank you for telling me that.” 

She shrugs as if it’s nothing, as if she hasn’t just admitted to something her therapist had taken years to get out of her, “Thank you for telling me about Haley.” 

Aaron smiles politely and looks at his watch before he looks back at her, “If you’re done with studying, I wanted to show you something.” 

She furrows her brows, already closing her books, making no attempt to pretend she had any intention of doing any more work, “Show me what?” 

He winks at her as he stands up, “C'est la surprise.”

She swallows thickly at the way he speaks French, his accent a little clunkier than hers but still good enough to make her body tense, everything so tightly wound she thinks she might explode. 

“I hate surprises.” 

___

He doubts himself the moment they arrive at the gun range. 

She freezes outside, her shoulders tight as she looks at him, her eyebrows knitting together as she swallows thickly, “What are we doing here?” 

Aaron steps towards her, concern and something close to guilt churning in his gut when he can practically feel the nervous energy flowing off of her, “When we met you told me you wished you knew how to protect yourself,” he says, nodding towards the gun range, “I thought, if you wanted me too, I could show you how to shoot,” he suggests, feeling nervous in a way he doesn’t entirely understand. The silence that follows drags out, every second feeling like an eternity as she goes back and forth between looking at him and where he’d brought her, and he eventually can’t stand it anymore, “If this was a bad idea, I can just take you home.”

“No,” she says suddenly, hardly waiting for him to finish before she looks at him, familiar determination in her eyes, “I’d like to learn how to.”

He places his hands on his hips and looks at her, waiting for any sign that she was just saying it to please him, even though nothing he’d learnt about her so far would indicate that she would do so. 

“Are you sure?” 

She nods, clearing her throat and forcing out some of the tension that had gathered in her chest, any fear replaced by amazement that he’d remembered her saying anything about this at all.

“I’m sure.” 

He leads her inside, his hand hovering behind her back as she steps into the otherwise empty gun range. She frowns as she turns to look at him, the lack of other patrons confusing her, and he smiles softly. 

“I know the owner, they agreed to let us have the place to ourselves for a couple of hours,” he explains, “I thought the less sudden noises we can’t control the better.” 

“Oh,” she says, nodding, her chest warm with the knowledge of how much he’d thought about this, how much he’d thought about her and a throwaway comment she’d made the first time she was nice to him. “Thanks.” 

Any response is cut off when a tall skinny guy, whom Emily thinks looks no older than a teenager, greets Aaron with a nervous smile and a handshake. He tells them the space is theirs and leaves them to it disappearing back into the office where he came from. Emily watches him curiously as they walk past the desk and back to where the range is, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks at Aaron.

“Is that kid old enough to own a gun, let alone work here?”

Aaron chuckles and hands her some ear defenders, removing his gun from his holster before he puts defenders on his own ears, “Spence’s parents own this place,” he says, smiling at her, “When I was still in the FBI he was arrested for card counting at a casino the age of 16, I helped him strike a deal. His parents told me they owed me.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about the fact he’d traded in an offer like that just to help her, so she does what she does best - she ignores it. Pushing the emotion down with the growing feelings she had for him, hiding them in a box she didn’t dare open, afraid he’d somehow get hurt in the long run.

Everyone who got close to her did eventually. 

She nods towards his gun, “Show me what you’re made of then Agent Hotchner.”

He turns and points his gun at the target in the distance, firing off two shots in a row, both of them going through the same spot on the bullseye. She jumps despite the ear defenders, her body tense in a way she feels ridiculous for. She shakes it off before he can turn back around, not wanting him to worry he was doing the wrong thing. 

“Impressive,” she says, stepping towards him, “My turn?” 

He nods and hands her the gun, stepping behind her as she points the gun towards the target, “Now you want to make sure-”

“It’s shooting a gun Aaron, how hard can it be?” She says, hesitating for a moment before she pulls the trigger, the pushback of the gun stronger than she expected it to be. She frowns as she misses the target entirely and she turns to see Aaron trying to hide a smile, “What are you laughing at?”

He steps towards her, “I think you’ve seen one too many movies, Em.”

She barely has time to register the nickname before he places his hands on her hips, straightening her stance with palms so warm she can feel them through her clothes. Her breath catches in her chest as his hands trail up her back, resting on her shoulders to help get them into position. She can feel his breath on her cheek as he leans forward to talk to her. 

“You’ve got to have both hands on it,” he says, reaching for the one still by her side and raising it to steady the gun, “It gives you more control.” 

She turns her head to look at him, and her breath skipping over his skin is what makes him realise how close he is to her. His eyes go wide, and his senses are immediately overwhelmed by her. The smell of her perfume, how soft her skin felt beneath his palms, the scatter of freckles across her nose that he’d never noticed before. 

He steps back and clears his throat, “Try now.” 

She nods, her tongue sticking out to wetten her lower lip, and she looks back at the target. She pulls the trigger again, with less hesitation this time, and she hits the outer ring of the target. She huffs out a laugh, a sound of disbelief caught in her chest, and she turns back to look at him. 

“You’re a fast student,” he says, clearly impressed. 

“Maybe I’ve just got a good teacher.”

They stare at each other for a beat too long, and they both wonder if the other realises how much trouble they are in.

___

“We’re late.” 

“Emily,” Elizabeth sighs as she climbs out of the car, smiling her polite thanks at the driver before she looks back at her daughter, her frown slipping back into place, “You’ve seen this movie a hundred times. You know what happens.” 

“That’s not the point,” Emily says, her fingers digging into her own arms so she doesn’t start a fight, not wanting to argue with her mother when she’d come into town to celebrate her birthday, albeit a week early.

“I had important work to do,” Elizabeth says, stepping past her daughter, “Everything doesn’t just stop because you come into town.” 

Emily clenches her teeth and tries to settle herself down, raising her eyebrow as she looks over at her father. He smiles at her, squeezing her shoulder as he steps past her. 

“Don’t mind her pumpkin,” he says, winking at her, “She’ll settle down once the show starts.” 

Emily blows out a breath and carries on walking, “Come on, I know a shortcut.” 

She leads her parents through an alley that leads to the theatre, hiding a smile as she hears her mother complaining about the smell. 

“Ambassador Prentiss?” 

Everything slows down when a stranger's voice follows them down the alley, purposeful and familiar, an edge of assurance and curiosity to it. 

Her father has barely turned around when the first bullet fires, knocking him off his feet, his eyes glazed over as he hits the ground, the resounding thud quickly followed by her mother’s scream. Emily stands frozen in place, unable to move, unable to make a sound, as she hears another shot, barely flinching this time. She looks at the two men standing a few feet away from her, one of them staring right at her, his eye piercing as she shivers. 

She waits for another shot, but it never comes, a commotion drawing the men away as soon as they’d appeared. 

“Emily.”

She’s on the floor, her eyes wide as she shifts towards her mother, the same dark eyes she looked at in the mirror every day staring up at her. 

“Emily, you’re okay. I’m here.”

“Mom,” she chokes, reaching out, her hands sticky before she even touches her mother’s chest. 

“Emily wake up.” 

___

She sits bolt upright, gasping as she desperately tries to suck in air, her lungs stuffed full of grief and fear as she struggles to breathe.

“Emily.”

She snaps her head towards him so quickly it hurts her neck, and she jumps, not entirely aware that she isn’t alone until she finds Aaron sitting on the edge of her bed. “Aaron?” 

The croak in her voice, the pain laced in his name, makes him ache, and he has to clench his fists not to reach out for her, “It’s me,” he says, smiling in a way he hopes she finds reassuring, “You were having a nightmare I think.” 

She nods, wiping a stray tear from her cheek as she laughs bitterly, “Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat, “I was. I didn’t wake you up did I?”

He shakes his head, “I was going to get a drink from the kitchen and I heard you yelling,” he says, hating how she looks embarrassed, like her past and her trauma were things to be ashamed of, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

She stares through him, a shuddering breath escaping her as she closes her eyes and sees it all again. Bright red against a satin jacket she knew the cost of, a grim pattern she’d never stop seeing. The glassiness to her father’s eyes, the spark in them that she’d loved but also hated, a cheekiness he never used to stop her mother from berating her, gone forever. 

“I was there when it happened,” she says her gaze fixed on the wall behind him. He knows she was, it was part of the brief for this job, and he remembered seeing it in the news at the time, but he simply lets her carry on, lets her open up in a way he assumes she hasn’t in years, “My dad he…he died straight away. I could tell he was gone, he just…was there one second and wasn’t the next,” she swallows thickly and looks down at her hands, her right thumb rubbing firmly at the heel of her left palm, as if she was wiping away blood that wasn’t there, “But my mom…” 

She drifts off, the words heavy in her chest as they refuse to come out, stuck somewhere in between her ribs, making each breath painful. 

He clenches his hands to stop himself from reaching out for her, his need to comfort her a pull he doesn’t quite understand something that he ignores, well aware he came far too close in the gun range, “Emily, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” she says, smiling tightly at him as she cuts him off, “I’ve just never told anyone this,” her smile turns sad as she looks back down at her hands, “Even Dave,” she says, her eyes flicking back up to him as he nods in response, “My mom was still alive, the men who cornered us aimed their guns at me and then a group of people entered the street and they ran. I remember trying to stop the bleeding. I had my hands on my mother’s chest. I…I felt it when she stopped breathing,” she looks up at him, tears shining in her eyes, “I felt it when she died.” She shakes her head at herself and wipes away a stray tear that had fallen onto her cheek, “My mother and I were never close, we were never what each other wanted, but part of me always hoped one day we could be. Now that can never happen,” she sighs at the look on his face, the sympathy she can see painted across it, and anger she knows he doesn’t deserve flickers in her chest, “I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.” 

Aaron finally reaches out for her, no longer able to hold it back as his hand lands on her shoulder, touching her for the first time since the gun range that morning, and he squeezes tightly, “I don’t feel sorry for you,” he assures her, wondering how someone could be so beautiful even in their grief, “I was just thinking that you must be the bravest person I’ve ever met.” 

Her expression softens, and she feels her cheeks go warm, feelings she’s been trying to stuff into a box since she’d first met him cracking through its exterior. She presses her lips together and averts her eyes to break their contact with his.

“Well,” she says, clearing her throat, “I don’t think that says a lot for the agents you used to work with at the FBI.” 

He smiles, “I guess not,” he says, “Do you have nightmares a lot?” 

She shrugs, shifting so she hugs her legs to her chest, her arms tight around them as she rests her chin on her knee, “Less than I used to. I think the gunshots today triggered it.”

His eyes go wide, and he immediately feels guilty, any assurance he’d given himself that he’d done the right thing gone, “Em, I’m so-”

She reaches out and grabs his hand, wrapping hers tightly around his as she squeezes, “Please don’t apologise for the nicest thing anyone has done for me in years,” she says, smiling softly at him, “Do I strike you as someone who would do something she didn’t want to do?” 

He feels some of the tension in his chest ease and he shakes his head, all of his focus on her warm hand around his, how soft her skin is, “I guess not.”

“Exactly,” she says, squeezing his hand again, “I want to learn to look after myself. Sometimes I feel like I’m still stuck in that fucking alley, and I think if I ever want to find my way out I’m going to need to start somewhere.” 

“I’d like to help you with that,” he says, his eyes locking with hers when she looks at him, “If you’d like me to.”

She doesn’t think she can tell him that he’s already helping, that she feels more herself than she has in years when he’s around, so she simply nods. She swallows thickly, her breath still shaky, the images of her nightmare still vivid every time she so much as blinks. 

“This is going to sound stupid, but can I have a hug?” She asks, hating how her voice shakes. She waits for him to say something, but he doesn’t, he simply shifts toward her, tugging her into his arms as she unfolds her arms from around herself and wraps them around him.

“You never have to ask,” he says, ignoring how good it feels to have her against him like this, how right it feels. He makes sure to keep his hands in a respectable place on her back paying close attention so they don’t drift, “I have it under good authority I give good hugs.” 

She huffs out a laugh against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him - a cologne she doesn’t know the name of and something she knows is distinctly him. It relaxes her, helps the last of the tension seep out of her body, and she pulls back to look at him. He’s close, his nose bumping against hers as she withdraws from his embrace just enough to meet his eyes, and she nods. 

“Very good hugs.”

Her breath skips across his face, the taste of her so close to his lips that he feels his heart stutter in his chest. He’s not sure who leans in first, who closes the tiny gap between them, but he sighs as soon as her lips are pressed against his. 

She loses herself in him, letting the feel of him pressed against her distract her from everything other than him. She holds him close, her fingers tight in his hair as she deepens the kiss, her tongue pressing into his mouth. 

He pulls back, his eyes glazed as he clears his throat, desperately trying to come to his senses, “Em…”

“You called me that earlier,” she says, her eyes fixed on his lower lip as she presses her thumb into it, testing the plushness of it, every part of her itching to taste it again, “No one’s called me that in years.” 

“This…this isn’t a good idea,” he says, grasping onto her sides, unable to let her go despite his words, his protest sounding weak even to him.

“Probably not,” she says, shifting closer, pressing her chest against his, looping her arms around his neck, “But that’s never stopped me before.” 

He half-growls, his hands tighter on her hips, “Are you sure?” 

She smiles, leaning in to stamp her lips against his, “What was it we were just saying about me not being someone who does things she doesn’t want to do?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, moments that feel like they last an eternity to her, want thrumming her skin that he’d ignited with nothing more than a kiss, but then he leans forward his lips against hers as he gathers her against him. She groans, immediately deepening the kiss as she straddles his lap, letting herself get lost in him. 

Despite her desperation and the desperation she can feel in his touch, they take it slow. Stripping each other of the clothes they are wearing, his hold on her bruising as he lays her down on the bed, his gaze nothing short of intense as he pulls back to look at her. He takes his time with her, his fingers and lips and tongue tracing her edges, committing them to memory in case this is the only time they do this.

He knows this should be the only time they do, that this in itself was foolish, but as she moans his name, the sound catching in her throat as he licks across her nipple, he knows he doesn’t want to stop. He works his way down her body, planting soft kisses as he goes, smiling into her skin as he reaches her thighs and her hips jerk towards him. 

“You’re so beautiful, Em,” he says, kissing her thigh before he pushes them apart, looking up at her from his place between her legs, “So fucking beautiful.” 

She feels frozen in place as he takes her apart, his fingers inside her and tongue against her clit working in tandem, pushing her towards the edge so quickly it was almost as if they’d done this before. She barely has to direct him, she merely encourages him, the pitch of her moans and groans enough to let him know that he was doing the right thing. 

When she comes, she feels like she’s broken free, finally out of the prison she’d trapped herself in, too afraid to step out of it. Even when her vision goes black, every nerve ending on fire, she knows it’s not just the sex, the best she’d had in a long time by a mile, not just the orgasm that was still tearing through her, but it was him. It was because he cared enough about her to let her be herself again.

She blows out a breath, not wanting to think too much about it, to talk herself out of something she doesn’t want to end. She lifts her head and smiles at him, chuckling as she reaches for him and she tugs at his hair, encouraging him upwards, sighing contentedly as he lays over her. 

“Okay,” she says, rolling her hips against his, smirking when he groans and rests his forehead against her collarbone, “An excellent marksman and you’re incredible at foreplay,” she jokes, wrapping her leg around his hips, matching groans leaving them as he notches against her, “Is there anything you can’t do?” 

He smirks as he kisses her, the taste of her on his tongue as he swipes it through her mouth, “I suck at baking.” 

She laughs and pushes his hair from his forehead, “I’ll teach you. It’s the one skill I have in the kitchen.” 

“Deal,” he says, stamping his lips against hers again, “You ready?” 

She nods, her nose bumping against his, and he pushes forward, his teeth clenching at the tight heat of her, his groan pressed into her skin as he rests his forehead against her neck. She moans at the delicious stretch of him, the pleasurable sting as he seats himself completely inside of her, and for the first time in years she’s completely unaware of everything other than this exact moment. 

“Holy shit,” she grits out, her head falling back against the pillow, “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing her neck, nipping at her skin in a way she knows will leave marks in the morning, a souvenir from something she knows should never have happened, “So fucking perfect.” 

It’s slow and gentle, and everything sex had never been for her but had always been for him. He links their hands next to her head and rests his forehead against hers, both of them too breathless to kiss. When she eventually feels her hips start to stutter, her orgasm just out of reach, she doesn’t have to say anything. He reaches between them, unlinking one of his hands from hers, and he gently circles her clit, whispering words of encouragement against her cheek as she comes for a second time, her nails digging into his back. 

He starts to lose his rhythm, his hips slightly rougher against hers, losing his control now he’d looked after her, “Where?” He grunts out, and she wraps her still shaking legs tightly around his waist. 

“In…in me,” she says, gasping as he does just that, the heat of him inside of her enough to make her sigh happily.

They lay like that for a moment, his head against her collarbone and her limbs wrapped around him, the air cooling in the room before he pulls back to look at her, a tender look in his eyes she doesn’t want to name. 

“Is this a good idea?” He asks, pushing hair out of her face, and she smiles, the irony of the repetition of his question from earlier not lost on her as he leaked out of her onto her bed. 

“Probably not,” she says, repeating her earlier answer as she makes no attempt to let him go. 

“Do you want to forget this ever happened?” He asks, his tone steady and even. 

“No,” she replies, her smile soft as he is unable to cover his relief, “No I don’t want to do that.” 

He leans down and kisses her, the action strangely more intimate now they’d already had sex, his arms tight around her as he rolls off of her, pulling her into his side, “You want me to stay?” 

She rests her head on his shoulder and reaches for his hand, linking her fingers through his, admiring the strength in them, the power he could wield but chose not to. She swallows thickly before she gives him the only answer that seems right, the only one she wants to give. 

“Yes. I want you to stay.” 

-x-

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[augustheart]

DC Pride 2023 Tribute to Rachel Pollack

This is a transcription of the text that appears at the end of DC Pride, written by a variety of authors in memory of trailblazing writer Rachel Pollack. I've done my best to copy everything exactly as it was written, and I apologize for any errors. It's over 3,000 words, so I'm going to put it under a cut outside of the foreword. The rest of the tributes are in plain text and not italicized except in places where they were by the original authors.

(If you would like a PDF of the following transcription, one is available here.)

“On April 7, 2023, the legendary writer and Tarot expert Rachel Pollack passed at age 77. Her work for DC's Vertigo imprint—including the celebrated Vertigo Tarot deck and a long run on Doom Patrol that was a deep influence on the property's recent HBO Max series—was profoundly meaningful for generations of comics fans. She was a trailblazing trans woman in comics and sci-fi communities that were frequently male-dominated, and her lifelong love of both superheroes in particular and the comics medium in general allowed her to confidently turn their storytelling tropes inside out, truly queering her comics in every sense of the word.

In the months before her passing, the editors of DC Pride were speaking to Rachel about writing a new story for this very issue, and her enthusiasm for the project was boundless, as she planned to return to her themes of the superhero and the secret identity, of the "kink" of costumes, and of the revelatory freedom that she found in these characters. Unfortunately, just as work was set to begin on the script, completing it became impossible for her. In the absence of that last great work, but with gratitude for the incredible stories she did give us, we've opted to turn the pages we reserved for Rachel's story over to her friends, and to the fans whose lives she changed, to share their memories of her.”

—Unspecified Author or Editor

“I met Rachel Pollack in 1985, at a convention, where I was interviewing her about Salvador Dali’s Tarot, and then I met her again a couple of days later at the Milford Science Fiction Writers’ Conference, and we became friends fast. She was smart and funny, she was a brilliant writer, and she was the first person I’d met who knew more than I did about obscure Jewish mythology.

She told me off for writing a line of dialogue. ‘But that’s the only thing in the whole story that’s actually true,’ I told her, and she explained that art truth and reality truth were two very different things. And I knew she was right.

I don’t know how much I learned about writing, but listening to Rachel and Gwyneth Jones and John Clute and Lisa Tuttle and the rest of them, I learned so much about reading, and what I learned would change me as a writer.

Rachel was my friend. I had never met a person who had transitioned before and I had so many questions and, patiently, she answered all of them. She decided I needed to know Roz Kaveney, and Roz and I have been friends for decades now.

In 1988 I was writing Books of Magic and knew I needed a Tarot reading in the comic. Rachel was in London, and I asked her what the reading should be. She took me out to buy a Tarot deck that spoke to me, and I saw what happened when Rachel Pollack walked into a Tarot shop. It was a little like what happened when The Beatles went on Ed Sullivan. And then she gave me a beautiful reading of four cards, which encapsulated the whole of the story I was trying to tell.

She won the Arthur C. Clarke Award in 1989 for Unquenchable Fire, and I read it and suspected Rachel was creating her own school of fiction, her own brand of magical realism.

We argued, gently, about Wanda’s fate in A Game of You, and Rachel did what I wish everyone who had an argument about art would do, which is she took what she wanted to say and put it into a comic. Tom Peyer had asked her to write Doom Patrol after Grant Morrison left, and she did a remarkable job. I loved the delirious joy of her comics, the magic and the sense of fun, in Doom Patrol and in the comics that followed Doom Patrol.

I was thrilled to see Rachel when I moved to Upstate New York, and then I didn’t see her for years. I did that thing where you think you’re in touch with your friend, but really you’re just on social media at the same times. I was stuck out of the country during COVID, and Rachel had cancer. I was thrilled when I returned to hear that she had beaten the cancer, and then I was going to see her and she hadn’t beaten the cancer. A whole new cancer had turned up on the day she had beaten the first one.

I got to see Rachel more in the past few months than I had in the previous few years. She was as funny as ever, as sharp and as wise. I got to know her wife, Zoe, and to appreciate their love. I got to tell her bad Jewish jokes that, I suspect, I’d probably first heard from her. ‘Everywhere I went, people said ‘Look at the schmuck on the camel!’’ Some people die well—not necessarily bravely, necessarily, but gently and wisely and kind. Rachel was going to be one of those. She asked me to come to her funeral, and I said that I would.

Her funeral, several months later, was in the sunshine. It was filled with friends of hers from comics, from fiction, from Tarot, from writing, from teaching, from family, from the world, and Rachel lay above the grave on a wooden plank, wrapped in white winding sheet. We said true things about her, and we were funny and honest and there was so much love, and then we shoveled the earth on her, and cried, and said our goodbyes.

I’ve never met anyone like her. I’m glad she was my friend.”

—Neil Gaiman

“Rachel Pollack and I had the same favorite comic book—why, Doom Patrol, of course—and for a while she was its writer and I was its editor. She followed Grant Morrison, whose name was big and growing even then, and for years it seemed like Grant’s era might totally eclipse hers in memory. But DC released her Doom Patrol omnibus in 2022, and in the process unwrapped the radiation-proof bandages from her work, exposing the piercing and radiant appreciation that so many fans felt for it. On top of that, this year Dennis Culver and Chris Burnham, the creators of the excellent Unstoppable Doom Patrol, paid a moving in-story tribute to Rachel’s cast of broken-but-healing heroes.

I’m glad she got to see the omnibus, and I’m grateful for the chance it gave us to relive her perceptive, ironic, unsettling, and revelatory run. It was known for being strange and surreal, but there was so much more going on. Doom Patrol had been weird before, and funny, but never quite as wise or kindly meant.

A story that I always think of when I think of Rachel featured yours truly. At the end of my time as an editor—I had decided I wanted to write full-time—I called the creators I worked with to let them know I was leaving. Most of them, quite understandably, reacted with some implied variation of ‘What’s going to happen to me?’ It made me start to think I was being horrible and selfish. But when I called Rachel and nervously told her what I had decided, there was a silence, and then she said, ‘Quitting is good for the soul.’”

—Tom Peyer

“I met Rachel Pollack in the late ‘90s at WisCon, the feminist science fiction convention where we were both guests. It was the first day of the con, and they were introducing all the guests. I had read Rachel’s Doom Patrol comics and at least one of her books, Unquenchable Fire, and was excited about meeting her. She must have felt the same about me, because when the introductions were over, we headed straight toward each other as though we’d been magnetized, and we became friends immediately.

We lived on opposite sides of the continent, so we didn’t get to see each other that often, but thank the Goddess for email. I visited Rachel’s house once and she visited mine once. Her house was nicer. She took me to visit Hyde Park, Franklin Roosevelt’s old home, now a historic site—we were both FDR fans—and I taught her a Yiddish World War II song. We were both into our Jewishness, but from different angles. Rachel was interested in the mystic side, and I was into Yiddishkeit. Rachel had a bat mitzvah, and I studied Yiddish.

Rachel and I discovered we had the same birthday—August 17, which we shared with Mae West and Davy Crockett. So we sent each other birthday cards that also included happy birthday wishes to Mae and Davy.

I knew Rachel had written many books on the Tarot, so when one day I found a complete set of Tarot cards lying in the street, I decided the Goddess wanted her to have them, and I sent them to her on our birthday. After that, the Goddess would put out Tarot cards for me to find almost every year, often just in time for Rachel’s birthday presents. In return, she sent two Tarot cards that she had drawn for me when I was being treated for cancer. (I’m cancer free now!) I saved them and put them away safely—somewhere.

Last year a neighbor who was a collector of stuff died and left his collections to us, his neighbors, to take for free. Among all the stuff in his stuff-filled rooms was an unopened set of Tarot cards. Shortly after I found the cards, my Romani neighbors who lived around the corner put a book on Tarot out on the street, so I took that for Rachel. I mailed the book and cards to Rachel for our birthday.

For the first time, I got no answering card. I didn’t know that Rachel’s lymphoma had come back.

And somehow, it all got away from me.

Periodically, I would think, ‘Phone her—must phone Rachel,’ but something would come up and I’d forget to phone, or it would be too late to phone because of the time difference between New York and California. Damn it!

I miss you, Rachel. In our next lives, I’ll try to be a better friend.”

—Trina Robbins

“I first met Rachel Pollack when I was the assistant editor on The Sandman and she was the new Doom Patrol monthly writer. I shared an office with Tom Peyer, who was Rachel’s editor, and when Rachel swept in like a redheaded bohemian priestess, I always wound up putting aside my own work so I could chat a bit with Rachel as well. She had the rare gift of wielding her considerable expertise about comics and mythology in a way that made the person talking to her feel smarter.

After I left DC Comics to write full-time, I moved to Rhinebeck and discovered that Rachel lived there, too. We formed a small writing group that met once a week, usually in my kitchen. Always as kind as she was insightful, Rachel spent more time celebrating what worked than critiquing what didn’t. She did a lot of celebrating, of others’ writing and of her own, delighting in the words and worlds that moved through her.

She was, pre-pandemic, a frequent guest at my Passover Seder, the only person besides myself and my mother who knew all the Hebrew and all the traditional melodies. Her vast knowledge of midrash and Kabbalah made her comments more delicious than the charoset she made, and let me tell you, that was pretty damn good. 

In October, when she started to get really sick and I started to visit more frequently, often with Neil Gaiman, Rachel defied any expectation of how a dying person ought to act. She cracked Borscht Belt jokes and talked about writing and writers, and then I went with her wife, Zoe, to pick out a grave. We discussed the Tarot, which I had belatedly begun to study along with her seminal book on the subject, Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom. I asked, ‘What does it mean when you get an auspicious card in a place that means it’s negative?’ ‘It means that’s what you’re struggling with,’ she replied.

I am struggling with this turn of the cards. I cannot fully fathom that she will not be sitting at our favorite local café, writing, but ready to put down her antique fountain when she sees me. Yet when I turn back to her writing, I feel her still with me: Doom Patrol Rachel, Writing Partner Rachel, Rachel of the Passover Seder, Rachel Poet, Rachel Priestess, Rachel Friend.”

—Alisa Kwitney

“Rachel Pollack loved comics.

When we first talked about comics, it was about her own. Eight years ago I asked Martha Thomases if the Doom Patrol run after Grant’s was worth checking out, as I hadn’t heard much talk of it. She said ‘Yes. Read it.’ I adored the run and reached out to Rachel via email to let her know. To my surprise, I heard back from her within 20 minutes.

Over time we talked about the comics and creators that she loved. Carl Barks and the Duck comics, particularly the characters of Huey, Dewey, and Louie, meant a great deal to her. Little Lulu was high on her list. And The Fox and the Crow inspired a whole arc of her Doom Patrol run. The works of Jack Kirby (particularly on Fantastic Four and the Fourth World saga), Steve Ditko, and Gene Colan were brought up often, as were series including Xambi and Promethea, which she revisited often. She had even reached out to Marvel back in the early ‘70s inquiring about writing opportunities, two decades before writing at DC. 

Rachel saw the inherent queerness in superhero comics back in the Silver Age. One example she would reference was “The Town That Hated Superboy!” from 1967’s Superboy #139. In it, the citizens of Smallville turn against Superboy for nearly two pages. What stood out to Rachel was how Ma and Pa Kent pretended to hate Superboy out of fear that if they didn’t, those around them might suspect that Superboy was really their adoptive son, Clark. Though taking this sequence and relating it to an idea as heavy as the violent consequences of inadvertently outing someone by simply treating them with kindness was unlikely Otto Binder’s intention, the subtext was picked up on by many queer comics readers at the time in addition to Rachel.

Through the years I got to have a greater understanding of Rachel’s unbelievable kindness as well. She saw the world as a positive place and held out hope for just about everyone. Rachel discussed how attitudes with London’s Gay Liberation Front turned against the trans community in the ‘70s, but she would also talk about how some of the same people came back around and were vocal advocates for trans rights by the ‘90s. Whereas most, understandably, would allow themselves to be bitter and resentful, Rachel’s capacity for love and compassion was too strong for that.

I was devastated knowing just how many projects Rachel had in the works and how many stories she still had to tell. But after taking time to think on it, I know that no matter how long she stayed here with us, her work would never be done. Her stories will continue through those who love her and those who haven’t found her yet but will love her just the same. 

I love talking about Rachel’s work and her kindness. I plan on doing so for the rest of my life.”

—Joe Corallo

“‘It’s so cool that you created the first trans superhero,’ a very nice person told me recently. Writing feels like stuffing a message in a bottle and lobbing it out into the open sea, so to meet someone who had caught one of my bottles and read what was inside was extremely exciting. Unfortunately, I am a nerd first and a lover of accolades second, so I had to correct them. 

Galaxy, the character I created, is not the first out trans superhero in the DC Universe. Kate Godwin, created by Rachel Pollack 30 years ago, is. Kate is important, but more than that, she’s important to me. 

I was a teenager 30 years ago. That’s also important.

There’s a lot of talk of firsts in superhero comics, most of it meaningless. Dick Grayson absolutely deserves the ‘Sensational Character Find of 1940’ label trumpeted on the cover of his first appearance, Detective Comics #38, but you don’t need to read it, even as a die-hard Robin fan.

You can’t say that about Doom Patrol #70, the first appearance of Kate Godwin. That issue changes everything. That issue changes lives. Because Kate, a kind and funny woman, with an amusing power set and questionable taste in superhero outfits, who is beautifully, unapologetically trans—Kate is the viewpoint character.

Imagine the power of that. Holding up a trans woman—a lesbian trans woman, at that!—and saying ‘This, this is who you, the reader, should identify with.’ To have a trans woman be smart and pretty and likable, and not an object of scorn or pity, or a side character. She was the hero! I can tell you from experience, that is a tough sell now.

Reading that comic in the 1990s felt like a lightning bolt from heaven.

It was too powerful for my teenage self to handle. It was radioactive, and yet I would read my copy ragged to bask in its glow. I can call up its panels from memory. When I finally began my transition, many years later, I wore a lot of black tank tops and jeans, unconsciously aping Kate’s unofficial uniform. I didn’t put it together until recently, rereading those 30-year-old stories that I had imprinted upon like a baby bird. Early on, I wasn’t sure of the kind of woman I was, but clearly I knew the kind of woman I wanted people to see. Someone like Kate Godwin.

I never got the chance to meet Rachel Pollack and tell her how I had received her message in a bottle. How I had held it close to my heart until I finally found the strength to absorb its message. How she showed me I wasn’t alone, and I could be a hero, even if that just meant saving myself.

But I hear people say those words to me, having read about Galaxy. Which will have to do.

Thank you for being first, Rachel.”

—Jadzia Axelrod

[mad-aims]

So Doctor Who review time!

This episode was so gay! 🌈 I loved it! 🥰 Just what we need for Pride month Happy Pride btw! It’s definitely my favourite episode of them all so far.

No death (well maybe a bit, but just red shirts) or capitalism. Yay! 🙌🙌🙌 This is the ’Who I like. Totally bonkers monster of the week and lots of fun. Not too silly, a bit of drama, some romance and a bit of timey wimey.

Regency Who, with cosplaying bird aliens! I absolutely adored the dance scene! I’m a sucker for a dance scene in anything. Is it weird that I was expecting Crowley and Aziraphale to pop up there for a bit? 🤣🤣🤣

And Rogue, oh my gosh! He was lovely! I hope he comes back. He reminded me of Captain Jack Harkness, but a bit more brooding. For a minute there I thought he was going to betray the Doctor, but no he took the heroic sacrifice! Rogue I hardly knew you but I loved you!! Please don’t be dead. That was Jonathan Groff?! Kristoff from Frozen, Jonathan Groff??? Whoa 🤯

Also was Emily Beckett a nod to Jane Austen? I mean Elizabeth Bennet is kind of similar sounding right?

That woman’s face turned up again. Yup, she’s important she’s on the next episode. Called it.

Also just want to point out that the part where the Doctor said “Bond. Molecular bond.” My friggin’ Alexa responded and decided to change the channel to something else. I had to restart my BBC iPlayer and carry on from where I left off.

They can’t get royalties for any Beatles songs, but Kylie and Willy Wonka songs are okay? Well, Kylie did die on Space Titanic, so I guess her music is free game. 🤷 Apparently Billy Eilish and Lady Gaga music also was played by the orchestra. I didn’t catch that.

I liked that thing when the Doctor got scanned and it showed all his faces starting with 10! I also like how 14 was there too. Also the War Doctor! 🥰 I’m guessing there’s Timeless Child references there too. The other female that isn’t 13? I didn’t watch that season, so I don’t know much about it. But yes all the faces were cool.

But yes all in all Rogue is my favourite episode so far, most definitely! More like this please RTD. 🙏🙏🙏

Can we have more kissing please? 🙏

Till next week!

[midnightsun-if]

can we have the most favorite media thing (like, favorite videogame series, favorite book, movie, etc) from all the ros?

Koda

Video Game: Stardew Valley, it’s just something he enjoys playing and he’s so proud of his farm.

Book: Charlotte’s Web, he knows it’s a book meant for children but he has a lot of fond memories curled up against his mom as she read it to him.

Movie: Brother Bear, it’s a bit on the nose but he loves the story, the visuals, and the soundtrack.

Song: On My Way by Phil Collins from Brother Bear.

Scarlett

Video Game: Dragon Age, she rarely plays video games but she’s always enjoyed that one.

Book: The Return of the King (LotR), A Dance With Dragons (ASoIF), or Pride and Prejudice… It’s a toss up.

Movie: Casablanca or Scream.

Song: Tchaikovsky— Swan Lake, Op.20, Act: 2, No. 10, Scene: Moderato.

Cyrus/Cyra

Video Game: Either classic Mario or Ori and the Blind Forest. They typically like platformers though.

Book: The Raven, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, or Jurassic Park.

Movie: The Queen or The Chronicles of Narnia.

Song: Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles.

Quinn

Video Game: Wii Sports, it’s always something they’ve enjoyed playing.

Book: The Odyssey.

Movie: The Sandlot or Field of Dreams.

Song: Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine.

Caden

Video Game: Peggle… It’s calming to them.

Book: The Da Vinci Code, its book that they’ve read numerous times.

Movie: Good Will Hunting or The Bucket List.

Song: My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion.

Sloane

Video Game: Elden Ring, it’s something they’ve enjoyed playing.

Book: Peter Pan, it’s something that reminds them of their childhood… However, painful that is now.

Movie: Hook, for the same reason as Peter Pan.

Song: Paint It, Black by The Rolling Stones.

Blake

Video Game: Sims, it’s one of the few things that’s been able to keep their attention.

Book: A Tale of Two Cities.

Movie: Coyote Ugly or Pretty Woman.

Song: …Baby One More Time by Britney Spears.

Reginald/Regina

Video Game: Left 4 Dead, but they also adore Knights of the Old Republic too.

Book: Dracula (funnily enough) or The Hobbit… (The Dragonriders of Pern series has its own category.)

Movie: Star Wars (Originals).

Song: The Force Theme by Samuel Kim (Cover).