#this is an incredibly pointed psa

[frankiensteinsmonster]

Unfriendly reminder that if you're antiblack/indigenous/POC, be it for race, traditions and practices, cultural diet, Anything

You need to get the fuck off my shit, this is an Afroindigenous blog. Colonizer opinions under the guise of moral standing aren't welcomed here. Community is intersectional and responsibility. If you're excluding and attacking, causing harm to, and pushing for the erasure of a group of marginalized people and their traditions, you're not community. You're just part of a demographic. Community protects and supports each other. That's the whole fucking point.

[sparklingpax]

the way omni productions was like “ah yes, and here we’ve got the fearsome...” 

*checks smudged notes* 

“...deathsanrus”

[narutomaki]

just saw a post abt upper dose limits of a medication and went. well that's a lie I've taken 44+ of them and been fine.

more than once.

like it's a good and incredibly important PSA because if you are taking that amount of a drug for pain or other illness you for SURE need something different.

I'm just incredibly lucky that never worked.

[avelera]

PSA: You should question news articles that make you not want to vote

Hey Tumblr friends, but especially young Americans in this, the year of our Lord 2024.

Unfortunately, it is an election year.

Unfortunately, a US election year becomes everyone's problem, and yes everyone else, we are very very sorry that you have to deal with our nonsense.

But in all seriousness, the level of propaganda that's going to be flung around on all sides is going to reach peak levels this year for the English-speaking internet in particular. There's going to be a lot of influence operations, on all sides, and yes including on sides you agree with but they are still influence operations.

Source: I am speaking as a cybersecurity professional who also did a great deal of work in election security.

So, here's what I am going to ask you to do. What I am going to beg you to do: be careful of any article that makes you think there's no point in voting.

That's it. I'm not going to tell you who to vote for, or how to think, or that you should trust or distrust every article out there. I don't care about that. I care about whether or not it makes you think you shouldn't vote.

A lot of influence operations are about making you feel like there's no point. That both sides are just as bad as the other. The the election is falsified. That you can "protest" by not voting (false: you will simply not be counted and your voice will be ignored). All sorts of reasons not to vote.

No matter what you do, what you believe, or who you trust, you really really have to vote this year, and every year, and you need to not listen to articles that say there's no point because among those articles are in fact active foreign influence campaigns trying to promote one side or the other for their own reasons, I am deadly serious right now.

(More context, sources, and examples sources below the cut.)

In 2016, Russian influence operations were focused on tearing down Hillary in order to specifically depress voter turnout among young men of color in the belief that this would help Trump get elected.

From the article: "“Buried literally in the middle of the indictment is a paragraph that should jar every American committed to the long fight for voting rights,” Anders wrote in a statement. “The Russians allegedly masqueraded as African-American and American Muslim activists to urge minority voters to abstain from voting in the 2016 election or to vote for a third-party candidate.”

This is the flavor of influence campaign that has been proven, that does exist, and is the sort of thing that does numbers here on Tumblr.

Things like the situation in Gaza, for example, are incredibly fraught situations. Articles don't even need to lie about facts on the ground there to make people feel hopeless and angry. Again, I am not telling you who to trust or not trust when it comes to news sources. But if an article about this event, for examples, makes you think or even outright tells you, "There's no point to voting, both sides are awful, I just shouldn't bother." You need to pause and at least consider that this might be an influence operation. You need to think critically. You need to check sources. You need to think about the world you want to live in, to vote for, and who might not want that world to happen for any variety of reasons.

Protesting by failing to vote isn't a real thing.

Old politicians ignoring young voters because they famously do not bother to vote is absolutely 100% a real thing. It is why so many policies that are popular with young people are low priority for politicians: they are not afraid of losing the young vote because no one plans on having it in the first place when it's never there in big enough numbers to matter.

So please, please, read what you want. Believe what you want. Follow your heart and your brain and whatever other organ you want to think with. I'm not here to tell you who is right, wrong, trustworthy, good, or bad. I'm just here to tell you that despite all of that, whatever you read, you must vote in your elections, no matter where you are in the world and you must not listen to voices that tell you not to as a protest.

[physalian]

On Writing Characters with Hyper-Specific Triggers (and a PSA)

*Trigger warning for this whole post

Once upon a time, I had a roommate. Nothing looked wrong from the outside and this narcissist probably thought nothing was wrong on the inside, but there was. I knew moving in with them was a mistake, but financial circumstances demanded I shut up and try to make the most of it. Enter the longest thirteen months of aPTSD-inducing psychological stalemate I hope to never repeat again. Seven of which were on overdrive.

The why doesn’t matter. The how doesn’t matter. What matters is that this roommate was so toxic, there was no point in attempting to talk things out because any little thing could be a land mine for starting an argument and it didn’t matter what casualties got caught in the crossfire, so long as this person “won”. Casualties including our friendship. So if any little thing, anything at all, could be a land mind, what do you do if not try to completely avoid them? For seven months.

This person’s work schedule was incredibly erratic, but they were gone more hours than not, and when they were home, they were usually asleep. In those few overlapping hours where we were both awake, I could not leave my room for fear of said verbal land mines. If I wanted to cook, leave the apartment, get anything from the living room or my desk that I had to abandon, get more water from the fridge, I had to do it before they got home, or after they went to bed, and I could never predict when they’d be home.

Luckily (or unluckily), my room faced the parking lot, and this roommate drove a car that made a very specific sound. From the moment I heard that car from my room, I had about 20 seconds to shut down whatever I was doing in the apartment, retreat to my room, and lock the door. Overreacting? Potentially, I wasn’t in any physical danger, but this was seven months of near complete isolation from any other friends, and the fear of making it worse kept me silent.

So, 20 seconds from the moment I hear the telltale whine of that engine. If I couldn’t hear the car, our front door had a lock that chimes and I had about 7 seconds from the first chime to the door opening to get the fuck out of the way. I lost weight that I couldn’t afford to lose from being unable to cook past a certain time in the evening and staying locked in my room on their days off.

Seven months of only having a door chime and an engine to tell me when it was safe and when I had to run.

—

These chime locks are the new normal and one year removed from that apartment, every time I hear it and I’m already stressed, it’s a trigger.

Every time I’m on the highway and I see a dark grey sedan of that make, that is the most important car on the road until I make sure it’s not their car.

Every time I see a dark grey sedan parked in reverse, as they habitually did, that is the most important car in the parking lot until I make sure it’s not theirs.

Every time I have to drive near a certain location where they work, I am watching for that car.

I could pick it out from 200 others. I know the license plate, I know the license plate frame, I know what sticks to the windshield, I know what hangs from the rearview mirror. I would know that car rusted and crushed in an impound lot.

So. Today I drive home and I pass a rear-parked car one turn before my unit, and I think to myself, “that’s not X’s car, but I noticed it, I’m never not going to notice it.” It wasn’t the same make, model, or color, it was just a sedan with its nose sticking out and that was enough.

Then I turn the corner. And there it is. My ex-roommate’s car.

I shit you not it was like I had a warning from the Universe before it hit.

I don’t need to check the windshield, I know it’s theirs. I’ve seen it in my complex once before. The last time I did, I’d parked my own car and waited, got out, and hid between two others in the dark, waiting for this person to leave.

Today, in broad daylight, that car is empty. They happened to arrive while I was gone for 30 minutes. So I park, and I wait. I watch that car from my side mirror. I scan the sidewalk for them and I don’t see anything. I have frozens that can’t wait.

I’m thinking to myself, of all the parking spots in all the parking lots, of all the apartments in this godforsaken town, you parked right behind my spot.

Nothing happened, and even if we crossed paths, nothing probably would have happened (that’s how they worked, pretending nothing was ever wrong and that I was the crazy one). But I still waited, and when I decided to leave, I moved as fast as possible without drawing attention. One whole year removed from that person.

—

It doesn’t take physical abuse, or yelling and screaming and death threats. It doesn’t need to be a parent or a sibling, a relative, or a romantic partner. This person never touched me, never screamed (though they did yell on occasion), never actually threatened anything. They never called me names, were never direct with any of their insults, were never explicitly petty. I had no proof. Ever.

I just had example after example of every time they cut me down to feel smart, picked on me to feel better about themselves and project their own insecurities and jealousy, or used me as their emotional punching bag because of choices they made.

So a year after completely cutting them out, there’s that fucking car parked outside my apartment.

Media portrays “triggers” usually only in characters who are veterans. Noises that sound like gunshots, or thunder, fireworks, because that’s what we think of when we see PTSD—people who fought in wars.

It’s not like I sit around fixating on that car or that door chime (and actually with exposure to that chime every day with no consequences it’s gotten better), but that’s the point. They come out of nowhere when you least expect it. They don’t prepare you for their arrival, they just happen.

I didn’t have anything close to a panic attack, but nothing in the universe was more important in that moment than making sure I didn’t run into this person, until I calmed down.

Trigger attacks don’t have to be this big flashy thing, born of big flashy movements. It can be something as subdued as going quiet, staring at the thing, and your brain dumping everything else except all the potential outcomes of not escaping this situation immediately. It’s just a car. It’s not like an evil Big Dick truck with smokestacks and truck nuts and a MAGA flag on the back. It’s just a nerdy sedan that could belong to anyone.

—

So. PSA.

What you think might be an overreaction by someone you care about, they probably think is an overreaction, too. Did I want to have fate shit on my day and spend extra minutes under the hot sun when I have chores to do? No. But it happened.

What you think a trigger is supposed to look like or what the symptoms are supposed to be are not just what’s dramatic and flashy for the TV. Here I am writing a whole blog post about it instead of just moving on and I can't go back and check for typos because I don't want to have to reread it.

Do you want to die on a hill of “get over it” when someone you care about would love nothing more? Just. Be there for them.

And to writers, artists, anyone—it doesn’t have to be dramatic to be the most upsetting part of someone’s day. Including such simple things as a door chime, or the sound of an engine, really helps with visibility so people like me don’t think “I’m not allowed to feel this way, I didn’t actually suffer like a shell-shocked veteran”.

Most of us never will. That doesn’t make any of our hardships any less valid. Please be kind.

[anadiasmount]

ana babes, hot tub/late night in the pool w jude fic please? i’ll pay u in infinite kisses💋 (btw no pressure ofc!)

by the edge - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: above!

wc: 2.1k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa : HIIII IMY ILYSMM, i'm sooooooo incredibly late to this, it's not even funny... but it has been in my drafts and i needed to finish this 😔 so here's summer! jude despite it being over... small suggestive content but not too in-depth. this is also insta au + fic combined!!

———— j.b ————

judebellingham added to their stories!

19 hrs ago | 9 mins ago

———— j.b ————

spottedcelebrity

liked by: popculture, thesun, dailymail, vouge, yourbestie, and 345,901 others!

spottedcelebrity: PHEW. we did not see this one coming! it’s looking like he’s finally showing off his lady, soft-launching her on his latest instagram story! stay tuned for more update and live show at 9pm!

username291: OH?? so he was actually being fr??

user09: the way no one saw this coming (im actually dying inside…)

username39: if you look closely that’s actually me!!!! 🤗

user21: girl bye-

username49: soft launching on his story is the bare minimum…

↪️ user11: isn’t that the point tho? who cares if it’s on his story? he just made a highlight dedicated to her 💋

username29: does anyone know who she is??

↪️ user19: no, he keeps her private.

↪️ username77: we don’t know that, maybe she doesn’t want to be in the public eye

↪️ user45: apparently she’s a business student at the university of madrid…

↪️ username86: people think it’s @ynusername but she’s private on everything so no one can clear that up

user74: oh! SHES GORGEOUS ??

———— j.b ————

ynusername added to their stories! 🔒

19 hrs ago | 12 hrs ago

———— j.b ————

“everyone on twitter is going crazy,” recalled jude, stepping out of the doorway. “why?” you laughed quesionably, unlocking your phone to check what he meant. you were rushed to see his fans eagerly wanting to know who you were, as jude had soft launched you on his latest post. they had not expected that one bit, now they we’re piecing to see who you were. 

it wasn’t anything new for you, as you had been doing that privately on your own instagram. the media knew he had a girlfriend, and jude respected your wishes to be private since it tended to be crazy hectic. yet the two of you liked to read comments late at night and see how theyre crazy theories came to light. 

“he was with his girlfriend at the airport, they both arrived with hats. she was very pretty and nice as well,” you read, feeling admiration at their comment. there was very few encounters you had together but all of them were positive to say the least which you were grateful for. the last thing you wanted was to be plastered in a tabloid of you being rude or mean. 

“a fan account pinned a comment earlier today, that you were a medical student and lived in norway? I never pictured it for it to get this crazy,” joked jude, hearing your laugh as you walked over to the mini bar. “do you want a drink? or would you like to share with me?” you asked, rubbing lime around the rim of the glass so you could coat with salt. 

“i’ll just take some sips out of yours,” replied jude, coming behind you to wrap his arms securely around your waist, placing kisses over your shoulder. jude watched as a you made the drink, eating fruit slices from the container you had bought in the morning. “i don’t know what it is, but the fruit here is so much better than the one in spain?” you say, jude immediately agreeing with you and going off how here he had the best mango ever. 

“careful, it's slippery,” jude gripped your hand and helped you get down the stairs carefully, making sure you wouldn't fall like he had done the first day here. the summer sea breeze was heavenly, reminiscing the last few days of summer with your boyfriend who seemed attached to you. jude’s second season at real madrid would start soon, and you were on your last year of uni. meaning this year would be hectic and stressful. 

yet right now all you could focus on was the palm trees leaves swaing, the late night sky, and the buzz feeling from your tropical drink. 

the past few days the two of you had spent exploring and having fun, taking tours around places, going ziplining, trying new foods, lots of walks along the shore, making seashell necklace and a bracelet for jude, and ending your nights like this, in the warm pool. you were grateful the place you had chosen to travel was sorta excluded from the world, being a private getaway without the media following around. 

“you okay? you seemed distracted,” jude asked swimming towards you where you lifted your hand to remove the water drops from his face. his sunkissed face from the past few days. you had to force him to wear sunscreen, listening to jude nag and complain he would be fine.  you knew this heat, humidity, and sun wasn't like the one in spain, easily burning in the first few seconds stepping outside. 

“i don’t want to leave, like ever,” you frowned and pouted your lip, jude chuckling as he picked you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands smoothed your bareback. “i don’t picture you as a thalassophile, with your little beach bag and sun hat,” jude joked earning a confused look from you. “a what?” you asked with narrowed eyes. 

“a thalassophile.”

“what even is that?” you giggled, your hand scratching the nape of his neck, as jude rested against the pool walls. “a thalassophile? it's someone who loves the ocean. for someone who claims they are the smarter one in the relationship, this is proving otherwise…” jude narrowed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, seeing the warning look you threw at him. “as the smarter person in the relationship, i’m shocked you even know that word!” you gasp sarcastically. 

“hey! leave me alone…” jude tickled you making you swarm around and swim away from him, going to the edge of the pool where he followed. “what would you do? set up a small shop and sell souvenirs?” he teased, seeing how you looked away nonchalantly. “uhm yes? but mine wouldn’t be overpriced or aesthetic shops, i would bring the culture and actual diversity. give a tiny background of my items and what not…” you shrug with a shy smile, seeing jude’s eyes never leaving yours, watching how your lashes fluttered and iris dilate. 

“why are you looking at me like that? it makes me nervous, baby…” you admit with cheeks flushed, shaking your head. jude laughs and looks away, making you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. your pulse and heart racing with one simple glance from him. “does it? i didn’t know that,” he said carelessly, bringing you back into his embrace, tucking and brushing away your hair that covered your shy face. 

“stop lying…” you rolled your eyes playfully, feeling jude’s warm hands as they ran your sides and thighs. “if i'm a liar, why aren't my pants on fire?” he joked terribley, his brum accent appearing more than ever, which made the two of you burst out laughing. “you and your jokes i swear… you think you're the funniest person ever,” you tease, hearing jude gasp. “maybe because i am?” defended jude. 

you swam back to your drink, having to pull off from your clingy boyfriend, who complained the minute you were away. you finished it, after offering jude some, hearing the ice clink in the glass, only having the strawberry left, which you took a bite of. jude watched intensely, seeing your lips around the red fruit and leave a trail behind. 

he swallowed deeply as you stepped near him, feeling your arm wrap around his shoulders, coming between his legs, your tongue licking off the extra strawberry off your top lip as you offered him some. his eyes looked up into yours, tasting the bitter yet sweet taste from the fruit as he took a bite. he stood up, towering over you as you placed the stem in the cup, your back resting on the pool. 

“you're so beautiful y/n… absolutely stunning,” he whispered, seeing upon how his words had an effect on you. you traced your hands around his bare muscles, veins decorating along his arms, as his fingers tilted your chin to him, jude crashing his lips on yours. he deepens the kiss, managing to sneek his tongue into your mouth, groaning and pulling closer to him, his hand tugging you locks of hair from the back, making you let out a tiny moan. 

“tastes so much better from your lips,” he whispered, yet he didn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to. this was so different, so intimate, driven by lust. jude knew all your spots, and you learned his. he knew how to bring you to the edge, the movement, the words. so it wasn't a surprise when he pulled away, pressing your hips down onto him, kissing down your jaw to your sweetspot on your neck, sucking softly making you shiver and throw your head back. “mhm jude… what if someone sees?” you say worriedly.

“they won't… we’re alone here, it's just you and me.”

you leaned down and captured his lips again, smacking his shoulder gently. “not so fast,” you giggle, feeling as he fondled with the bowtie on your bikini. jude gave you a playful smile, knowing his intentions wouldn't be so innocent. “what i wasn’t doing anything,” jude shrugged. “right cause you never do, and especially on this trip…” you eye him down. 

“i just want to love and appreciate my girl.” 

“you have… i think this may be our favorite trip. it's something about this place i don’t know,” you blabber off, jude listening to every word, already making a future visits for the next years to come. maybe one day bring your kids to this paradise even himself grown to love. seeing you in a new environment, with your summer glow of happiness, he could get used to it. he would drop anything, even football, just to see you this radiant. it didn’t matter if it was in the sunlight or moonlight.

“you think our kids would love this place?” jude said suddenly making your crinkle your brows. “kids? you want to have kids with me?” you say unsurely, earning a confused glance from jude who tensed up. “yes… i wouldn’t picture anyone else,” jude replied, seeing how your eyes dazed from bewilderment to jovial. “you better not, you know how i am,” you give him a look. 

“trust me i know,” jude said, thinking back to the one time a girl wouldn’t get a hint he was with you, doing the upmost right in your face, flirting, touching him, following him. it didn’t help you were deep in with tequila shots, embarrassing the girl by calling her out in public. but she took the hint.

“i’m serious though y/n… i want everything and anything for you and us,” confessed jude, pecking your lips where you turned away shyly once again. “you don’t know the amount of times i think about our future. what were doing 5 years from now, our home, kids, hell pets even! i know you seriously want a cat, i’m willing to do whatever it is to see you smiling always…” he continued, your gazed bored into each other, as in a way of sealing this moment for eternity. 

“when you won the champions league that night, do you remember what i said to you?” you ask, seeing jude think about it, and by seeing his face you knew he was bound to say something silly. “i was really drunk that night, so i don’t recal much,” jude taunted, earning another gentle slap on his shoulder from you. 

“be serious!” you threatened with a huge grin.

“if you’re recalling when you promised a lifetime with me, confessed your love, and promised me that you’d stick with me forever? that you knew it was a complete different world when i was in it? that you wanted to continue making memories with me, no matter the sacrifices?” jude recalled, watching how your eyes became teary. “yes. i remember it all.”

you sniffed while also giggling, kissing jude deeply and messily once again. you notice how jude’s breathing accelerated, tugging you closer to him and keeping you steady, making you sigh in content. “i’ll never get tired of kissing you,” you admit, kissing his nose and a tiny mole he had at the end of his brow, as jude then twirled you both around, hearing the squeal of excitement escape your lips. 

“so about our babies-”

“babies?” 

“yes babies. i want more than 2 kids,” jude said with a huge smile, seeing how you gave him a look. “we’ll have one first and then see,” you state, seeing jude shake his head. “nuh uh, i’m not having that, especially when i heard you say to your best friends you would give me 6 kids when we met that night,” jude said smirking when he knew he had caught you. 

“YOU DID NOT HEAR THAT? OH MY GOD, YOU ACTUALLY HEARD THAT?”

the rest of the night, you and jude counted the stars, he even made another drink where he repeatedly insisted he wanted to repeat the kiss you once had. you even played those silly pool games where you threw a item in the pool and one of you had to find and retrieve it, a game of 2 truths and 1 lie, and recalling your earliest memories you could think of. 

towards the end of the night you sat on the edge of the pool, watching jude do some laps before he swam up to you. you clenched your legs together, when feeling his lips trail kisses up your thighs, forcing you to open them so he could continue on the inside of them. “what are you doing?” you shakily say, seeing jude look up to you as he placed a final kiss on a tiny scar you had. 

“nothing…” jude murmured, pulling you closer to him, where you now realized how this night would end. but you didn’t complain, because you wanted him that desperately too. showing him just how much you needed and wanted him. jude didn’t fight it either, having a taste by the pool side, to then carrying you into you room where he continued to show you, prove to you how special you were.  

“gonna take care of you, you deserve it angelito mio.”

———— j.b ————

judebellingham

liked by: ynusername, brahim, yourbestie, camavinga, vinijr, sophiaamelia, fedevalverde, vogue, spottedcelebrity, and 4,888,769 others!

judeballingham: living life it's fullest along with you mi angelito divino 🤍

comments:

ynusername: EEKKK!! ILYSM 😣😣😣😣

ynusername: still thinking how sunburnt you got...

vinijr: no invite?

↪️ judebellingham: do you have a gf?

jobebellingham: literally why

↪️ judebellingham: why not?

spottedcelebrity: HARD LAUNCH? IS EVERYONE BREATHING OKAY?

↪️ ynusername: no.

trentalexanderarnold: very demure, very cutesy!

username19: hard launch? oh wow!

user38: this is actually so crazy im??????

vogue: HEY JUDE!

———— j.b ————

ynusername 🔒-> 🔓

liked by: judebellingham, yourbestie, jobebellingham, jennaortega, monetmcmicheal, spottedcelebrity, rubendias, trentalexanderarnold, adidas, glossier, and 34,897 others!

ynusername: i LOVE my man!! ily ily ily!! happy gal in happy place with my man!! EEEKKKKK!!!!!!!!!! 💞💕♥️💘💖💓💗💝

comments:

judebellingham: i can't tell if this is sarcasm or your being fr...

↪️ jobebellingham: she hates you. she CAN'T stand you! blink twice if you need help y/n

ynusername: blinks three times **

judebellingham: strawberry kissed.

judebellingham: you're so sexy, i'm so in love with you.

judebellingham: another pool night?

↪️ ynusername: yess!! 🤭🤭

rubendias: lol.

↪️ user55: tea...

↪️ username76: OH? @spottedcelebrity take a look at this?

↪️ spottedcelebrity: yikes... ruben in the comments of THE y/n??

yourbestie: imy!! eek you're glowing!! 🥹🥹

username10: omg!! she has been soft-launching him for a YEAR?

user30: so we were right...

username85: ur a smart and gorgeous queen!

user99: stop i love them so much.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part nine)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: an album release forces some feelings and conversations — one thing's for sure though, Eddie will always be thinking about you.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

“We are here this morning with a true music icon in the making, who’s hits like Compromising Positions and most recently Honesty took the world by storm. Now, Eddie Munson is just a few short days away from releasing his sophomore album with his Corroded Coffin bandmates, Assistance is Futile. Welcome to Eddie Munson everybody, yes!”

“Happy to be here, Charles.”

Good Morning America was definitely not the type of talk show the rockstar pictured himself ever getting invited on. He didn’t think his personal style, or the music he was putting out there with the band, would be something the producers would welcome. Considering especially the whole thing was televised live. No cuts, no edits, no take backs. Whatever is said remains out there forever. Quoted and interpreted until the next schmuck makes a fool of himself.

Hosts, Charles Gibson and Joan Lunden, were also known to be quite blunt with their guests. Blunt, but not in the rude sense of the word. Given their history on the network, their experience, they're simply good at what they do, which sometimes means effortlessly picking at a topic until they get a satisfactory reaction or better yet, television worthy answer. Of course there’s always a list of pre-agreed questions, carefully discussed with management and PR teams, but things have known to… slip out.

But Marianne trained him. Extensively. She flew out to New York the second this interview was arranged and spent hours in Eddie’s penthouse hotel room going over details that to most people, people not from this world, may seem minor: how to sit, how to smile, what to laugh at, the amount of seconds it should take him to answer a question. The list goes on. And now she was here, at the studio, to make sure Eddie saw a friendly face in the crowd. Someone to look at in case he got flustered at any point during the fifteen minute round.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty,” Joan begins, crossing one knee over the other, “Eddie, why don’t you tell us a little about how you and the band first got started?”

So Eddie talks. He’s charming as he tells the story, sparing a few details ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time. He does however, crack a few jokes, including one about the list of names Gareth and Jeff brought to him one night before they all agreed on Corroded Coffin. Charles laughs before asking the next question about the band's success so far, and what he makes of it.

“Oh man, it’s so insane,” Eddie answers truthfully, “I still have days where I don’t think any of this is real. All of us in the band feel incredibly lucky, for sure.” He nods along as he speaks.

Joan and Charles take turns asking a few more general questions about the band plus the other members who couldn’t make it out today, before settling on the whole reason Eddie agreed to do this interview in the first place: promotion for the new album.

Assistance is Futile was a collection of songs about you — but that was not going to be an answer he gives today, accidentally or otherwise. Instead, the rockstar focuses attention on how the record was built. Technical language that he dumbs down slightly to make sure he’s continuously captivating his audience (Marianne’s advice). He tells them what instruments the group played around with that may not have featured on their last album, which was more classic rock than this new project. And he’s excited as he talks. Passionate.

He continues to lay out the facts. List the number of tracks it features, eleven plus two bonus songs on the extended version. He talks about the writing process, still carefully avoiding mentioning the influence. He won’t say he wrote them all during the aftermath of your breakup. He hasn’t even admitted that to you, despite the fact that you spent every waking moment together since the afternoon at Cove City Sound Studios. He knows he won’t be able to hide that for much longer, but until the album comes out and you hear the songs for yourself, he’ll keep it to himself because things have been so… great.

Sure, things weren’t back to normal. It can’t be the way it was until Eddie finds the time to speak with your management and nip this whole evil grandmother blackmail thing in the bud. At least he’s got you in some capacity. He gets to talk to you again, laugh with you. He gets to hug you, kiss you, touch you. Friends with benefits, or whatever the term is. Eddie’s just glad to be around you.

“Now, here at the studio, we got an exclusive, sneak peak listen to Assistance is Futile, and there’s a little bit of speculation between the crew about the meaning behind some of the songs.”

Boom. There it is. The dreaded topic. And it was going so well.

“Care to share where the inspiration for these lyrics struck you? Who, in particular, they might be about?”

Eddie smiles. “Give into the charade”, Marianne’s words ring in his ears, “But by any means, don’t confirm their suspicions”. Not an easy task. A slippery slope by all accounts. He ever so slightly glances in the direction of his manager who nods her head to show encouragement.

“Who do you think they’re about, Joan?” Eddie bounces the question back.

The presenter smiles. She knows she shouldn’t say. Yes, it would be good for ratings, but bringing up your name is not something that can be done lightly. She knows that. Hence why Joan hoped Eddie Munson wouldn’t be smart enough to avoid the initial question. But the rockstar’s been trained and he’s not about to mess up with two minutes to spare.

“Well, I’d say my friend Charles here. He’s got, what was that one lyric, legs for days and a wicked smile.” Joan deflects. Ever the professional.

The whole studio starts laughing. Eddie joins in, satisfied with the way this worked out. 

“You’d be right on the money there, Joan.” The rockstar nods with a wide smile before continuing, “Charles Gibson has been a constant inspiration for Corroded Coffin songs. There’s not a lot to do in Hawkins, where we grew up. Gotta write what you know and my uncle has an affinity for this show.” 

He turns to the camera to say hi to Wayne, “I know you’re watching.”

Then shifts to look at the hosts once more, winking at the gentleman sitting across from him.

“Charles, you sexy devil, you.”

The laughter continues. People start to clap, whistle along to Eddie’s perfectly curated response. Marianne is beaming with pride because for a brief moment, she didn’t think he could do it. There've been so many mishaps in the past, wild things the band — the curly-haired frontman in particular — have done that she’s had to either smooth over with the media or keep hidden from the public altogether. This morning she finally exhaled. He did well.

You’re laughing too. Feeling proud too as you watch him through your television screen, just like you promised Eddie you would.

Blanket covering your body, all the way up to your chin, as you sit comfortably on the couch. The smile on your face is as genuine as they come. He’s so good at this. Considering how nervous he was, how much time he spent with Marianne going over every possible scenario until his head hurt. You took a mental note to tell him later that he really had nothing to worry about. He’s a natural.

The question about his inspiration for the album didn’t surprise you. It’s pretty standard for these types of press junkets. Even more given the fact your relationship has been the talk of the town for months, especially when the two of you weren’t even together. People love to speculate.

When Eddie told you about the upcoming album, one night after you came down from another intense orgasm, you assumed he wrote about your relationship — especially the failures. Honesty came to the rockstar after only one night. Makes sense that a complete record would be next. He didn’t confirm it though, because you didn’t ask. You would know once it came out, when you purchased your own copy to listen through. Artists supporting artists, and whatnot.

“Corroded Coffin’s Assistance is Futile. Coming to a record store near you, this Thursday, October 14.” Charles Gibson announces, holding up a shiny compact disc to one of the cameras, showing off the album’s cover art: a thundering night sky, with something sinister looming inside the blood red clouds. An ode to the band's Dungeons & Dragons days.

“Eddie Munson, thank you for your time today.” Joan Lunden flashes a pearly white smile.

The rockstar returns the expression. “Thank you for having me.”

Backstage, Eddie gives Marianne a big hug. Thanking her for being here. While returning the embrace, she reassures him that’s never going to change. “Or at least until the contract ends,” his manager teases and ruffles his already wild hair before sitting down on the velvet sofa.

“So, tell me, am I flying back to LA alone?”

Eddie picks up a bag of previously opened Funyuns before leaning against the vanity. He shuffles the remainder of the onion-flavoured corn chips inside the plastic, then starts eating them, one by one.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging as if it was an obvious answer. “We’ve got the release party for the album. The guys would kill me if I missed it.”

“I’d kill you first.”

He smirks. “Then why ask me the question?”

Marianne gives him a pointed look. One that says, no, screams, he of all people should know why. Eddie got on a private plane to New York so he could “sort something out”, then ended up staying for weeks longer than intended with no explanation. Marianne called him at the hotel multiple times, asking for a return day, but he always gave a vague answer. Then Gareth called, as did Jeff (who sort of already suspected the reason for the delayed homecoming, kudos to Holly), but Eddie continued on the road of avoidance, all while Page Six posted about sightings of him with a certain pop sensation.

“Eddie, you haven’t been this happy since—”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I know and yes, to whatever you’re thinking, but I don’t wanna talk about it now because there’s something I need to do first.”

“What do you need to do?” She asks, puzzled because in the time they’ve worked together, the rockstar has never once left her out of action. She did everything for him. That was her job. One she did gladly because she’s grown to care for these boys.

Eddie sighs, wiping his crumb covered hands on the material of his trousers. The bag of chips lays empty on the table next to him. Of course he contemplated telling Marianne everything on multiple occasions, but each time he chickened out at the last minute. He knew she could fix everything in the blink of an eye. Simply, the rockstar just didn’t feel worthy of that. 

His entire life, Eddie ran away. From situations, from people, from feelings. Anything that was messy, or just became messy. He ran until the distance felt comfortable enough to continue with his life. Growing up in Hawkins, he didn’t have a Marianne. He didn’t have anyone that would stand up for him, so running became second nature. Running fixed his problems. 

By the time the band hit stardom, running turned to escapism in the form of drugs and alcohol. The bubble. Under the influence, the rockstar didn’t care who cleaned up after him and Marianne was so good at her job that most of the time, Eddie didn’t even know there was a problem to run from until it was resolved.

The situation with your grandmother however, was different. It involved you. 

He gave into his instincts and ran. Only this time, Eddie ran to protect you. Threats were made to potentially ruin your career — fucked up, considering the person that made them was also the person who helped kick-start your fame. And as selfish as he may seem to people that don’t know the real him, the rockstar wasn’t willing to gamble everything you built for yourself. He ran.

But Eddie was done running. He was going to fix this and he planned on doing it alone.

“What’s going on?” Marianne stands and takes a step closer, crossing her arms. Concern is starting to fill her veins, though she’s trying her best not to show it. Trying and failing.

Maybe solving this alone wasn’t the way to go.

“Someone’s been blackmailing me,” he admits eventually, reluctantly. 

“What?!” Marianne just about shouts. “Who? For how long?”

“It’s uh…. It’s a complicated story.”

“Well, fuck.” She’s slightly annoyed ‘cause how could he have hidden something like this from her? This is why the band has her. Managing them, planning shit to maintain their career is only a small part of her job. Protecting these boys is a priority and blackmail is a big fucking deal.

Exhaling, Marianne lets her arms drop and proceeds to take a much less confrontational stance. 

“Eddie, you know I’ve always got nothing but time for you, so spill.”

And he does. Starting right at the beginning with Chrissy Cunningham.

-

When Eddie stops by your place later that afternoon, he kisses you, the second you open up your apartment. He kisses you fully, deeply. He’s kicking the door closed with his boot, lips continually locked together, his hands holding you firmly by the waist. A man on a mission and the mission being to make you feel like you're floating all the damn time. 

You smile against his soft lips. Mission accomplished.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

“Hello,” he whispers back, also smiling. “How was your morning?”

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” you answer his question and turn in your spot, wanting to lead him to the couch. Eddie’s hands remain on your waist as you do so, no inclination of letting go.

MTV is on. The wild-haired rockstar instantly feels at home — a stark contrast to that first night he showed up at your door. Adrenaline pumping. Unsure of the outcome. But it was better than he could’ve imagined, dreamed. Back in your arms with little to no arguments. Back where he for sure belonged.

Honesty comes on. The video makes him smile as he effortlessly pulls your legs over his thighs, hand settling on your soft flesh and giving it a gentle squeeze. The memory of that day with you on set. Eddie wouldn’t call it acting. Hugging you, kissing you on camera. Not a tough act. Natural, actually. That was a good day. You’re thinking it too.

“Magnetic.”

“Huh?”

Eddie can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. “You’re magnetic. Utterly. I almost forgot, but I didn’t really, you know? I-I think about that day often and how much fun it was,” he rambles. It’s sweet. 

“But what I replay in my mind the most is how fucking talented you are, sweetheart. A goddess in front of a camera, I swear.”

You smirk, your own mind flying to something much, much dirtier than what Eddie meant, and he flicks your leg at the institution, all while glancing at you from the corner of his brown eyes. Because there was a video camera left under the rockstars California King bed with a tape inside, a tape that could get you both — although the sexist industry you’re lucky to be a part of would blame only you, mainly — in a lot of trouble, if it ever saw the light of day. A tape for private eyes only. And Eddie wasn’t wrong, you were near damn a goddess.

“Wish we could work together again,” he says, then quickly adds, “Professionally, sweetheart, before you get any kinky ideas.”

That makes you laugh.

“Think you should focus on the album the band is about to release, hotshot. Once that’s a sure hit, then we can talk about doing something together.”

“Well, there is a box in my room, back in LA, with notebooks full of songs…”

He’s trying to be encouraging. Motivational. Really what Eddie’s doing is building up the courage to ask you to go back to Los Angeles with him. In a complete roundabout way, to be honest. The guys would call him a pussy. He was being a pussy. There was however, a lot he still needed to tell you. This whole thing with your grandma, for one. But Marianne was handling that now, and once she gave him the agreed upon sign, there was nothing stopping Eddie from screaming he loves you from all available rooftops — which he hoped to do for the first time at the place you two officially met. 

And with his manager on the case, he knew it would be sooner rather than later.

“Eddie, you’re a dumbass.” Marianne states. There’s a frown on her face, but it’s not serious. Accompanied by a smile that’s giving him a little bit of hope.

“I know—”

“No,” she interrupts, “You don’t.” 

He exhales. “I do, though.”

“Eddie. If you came to me when this first happened, you would’ve never lost all this time with Little Miss Perfect. The fact that you didn’t, the fact that you didn’t trust me with this information, makes you a dumbass.”

“So, you can fix this?”

“There’s a little thing called a Cease and Desist,” Marianne says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. And in a way, it is. “No one is going to threaten the career of my favourite client and get away with it.”

Eddie smiles. Genuinely. Something reminiscent of relief is flowing through his body, down to the tips of his toes, until he no longer feels heavy. The burden of this situation is slowly lifting.

“With your permission, I’d like to approach her team with this information. They’ll most likely also issue a cease and desist, so that her career is also protected.” Marianne says. “But I guess since all you’ve tried to do is keep her out of harm’s way, the only way you knew how, I’m assuming I have your permission without even asking for it?”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” He’s repeating over and over and over, wrapping his arms around Marianne. A hug they’d both cherish forever.

“Like I said, let’s get you to survive this record release first, okay?”

You’re looking at each other now.

“Take it day by day, Eds.”

“What if I want to skip ahead?”

There’s a lot hiding behind that question. The future is uncertain in many ways. He knows that he wants you, you know that you want him. That’s enough, but at the same time it isn’t. Day by day is easier than thinking about tomorrow, or the next day. He just loves you, which he’ll tell you soon. That’s what he wants to skip too.

On the other hand, you’re terrified. Giving into him again brought no shortage of anxiety about his past behaviour. Eddie Munson hurt you, twice. Second time worse than the first. You forgave him, yet the fear was still there. The question remained: what if he did it again? He wouldn’t, but what if he did? So taking it day by day, as it came, was easier. A shield, of sorts. Protection against hurt. 

Also, it was a lot more fun to act without consequence. To just be. 

Existing with him felt almost normal, even though there was nothing normal about the various interviews and photoshoots the rockstar has been doing promoting Assistance is Futile while in New York, or the long phone calls with his manager and bandmates in preparation for the release party. Nothing normal about your own career, which you’ve slowly been defrosting following the short heartbreak hiatus. Pivoting slightly towards acting as a new form of expression. So you’re reading scripts, rehearsing lines. All without expectations. Day by day.

“Skipping ahead means you, going back to LA for the release party,” you point out.

“You could come with me. The invitation is there, you know that.”

“There’s nothing I’d want more than to be there for you and the guys, Eddie, you know that.” You lean in closer, pressing your body weight into his. “But if I make an appearance, it will overshadow the album you worked really hard on and that’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, pressing his lips to the side of your head, leaving a soft kiss while inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. He slowly nods against you, understanding your point of view.

“So we won’t see each other for a while then, huh?”

“Well, I got that recurring part in Law & Order which is filming here, so that’s a couple of months, at least, that I’ll be stuck here in New York.”

“I can visit,” he jumps in almost instantly, “And you, maybe… You can come out to see me whenever you have breaks in filming?”

“Sounds good, Eds.”

There’s a moment of silence. It shifts towards the heavy side. Eddie’s biting his tongue. He wants so badly to tell you everything he’s been keeping secret, but he knows it’s not a good idea until Marianne confirms she’s consulted your team and the cease and desist letters have been sent out. He’s just not ready to say goodbye yet. Not even for a little while. He just got you back. You’re also lost in thought. Reuniting with the Corroded Coffin frontman has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, in the best way possible. Having him here, next to you once more, kissing and touching you. And you know it was limited. That time would come knocking and he’d have to go back, while you’d need to stay. Bittersweet would be the word to describe how you feel. 

“How about we focus on right now, hm?” You offer, lifting your head so that your sweet gaze catches his chocolate one. Then a short inhale later, you kiss him. Gentle, at first, although not quite a peck. His eyes close on impact as his hand reaches for your face, attaching itself like a magnet. Cradling, squeezing your cheeks. 

And you smile. Fucking smile. Eddie loves it when you smile while kissing him. It drives him crazy knowing his touch makes you that happy. So he can’t help but smile too. Teeth knocking against each other in the process. 

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” the rockstar admits.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you, Eddie Munson.” 

The hand that held his toned abdomen just a mere second ago is now not so innocently sliding in a downward trajectory. You fiddle with his leather belt, unbuckling it rather effortlessly with one hand after you press your lips against his once more. Deeper this time. Wanting.

“But distracting me from a conversation about what’s mph… next,” he mumbles as you tug at his zipper. You’re not giving him a chance to breathe. “Isn’t going to - Jesus - work.”

“Okay,” you’re teasing. It’s a whisper and Eddie’s brain short circuits ‘cause your perfectly manicured fingers are sliding into his boxers, reaching for his semi.

-

“So, you guys are like back together now, huh?” 

Steve’s question lingers in the air for a moment. He’s glancing at his small-town friend turned worldwide phenomenon from across the table, swirling black coffee in his takeaway cup.

Eddie looks out the window at the clouds passing by. 

After getting over his initial fear of flying, since he hadn’t been on a plane until his early twenties, the rockstar decided he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would. Things were peaceful up here — especially since he could now afford private jets. Just him and his guitar. Even when he travelled together with the guys, they all got lost in their own thing too, as did Marianne.

The upcoming release party however, prompted an invite to his little sister as well as Steve. So he knew that unfortunately this trip wasn’t going to be a quiet one.

“Something like that,” Eddie answers, turning his attention back to his friend.

Harrington nods. “That’s good, man. She’s great.”

“That she is.” Eddie fails to contain a smile.

“I’m happy for you.” Steve’s words are genuine.

“Thanks, dude.”

The short exchange is interrupted by Max’s snort. The two boys look at the redhead currently splayed out on one of the recliner seats. A book in her lap, one that she’s not really reading, but she’s keeping up appearances anyway.

“To think we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my genius,” she retorts, a smirk now present on her face.

Eddie laughs lightly, but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking out the window again. His mind turns to you. He misses you, even though he saw you not even a half hour ago when you said goodbye before he got on the plane. He misses you. Anxiety building since neither of you are really sure when you’d be able to see each other next. “And that’s okay,” is what you said to him in between soft kisses. He’s repeating it now.

“She’s not coming to the party, right?” Red asks her older brother, briefly breaking Eddie away from his thoughts. 

The rockstar shakes his head. “No.”

“You’ll see her soon,” his sister reassures, reaching for his forearm across the aisle, squeezing. 

“I know, I know.” 

“Then why the sad face?” Steve points out.

Eddie wishes he was alone. Then no one would be questioning him, even though he knows it’s coming from a good place. They just care, he tries to level his emotions, they’re asking because they care.

“Our last goodbye wasn’t so good,” he answers plainly.

Luckily both Max and Steve understand. They exchange a glance between themselves before returning to whatever activity they were engaging in prior to the start of this conversation: Red buries her head in the book she wasn’t really reading and Harrington resumes listening to music on his Walkman.

Eddie is once again glancing out the small jet window. He’s once again thinking about you. 

And he continues to think about you when the plane lands. In the car, on the way to his Hidden Hills home. He continues to think about you when the house fills with people that are there to style him for the release party. He’s making small talk, his mind still centred on you.

You remain the centre of his attention, even when Eddie and the band arrive at the venue, and he’s being ripped ten thousand different directions. Picture here, sign this, talk to this person. He enjoys a drink and he’s still thinking about you. He’s wishing you were here. 

The guys are introduced to come up on stage and even though Eddie is on cloud nine for this release, super proud of the record they put together, he’s wishing you were here to celebrate this with him.

He thinks about you as he sings one of the songs. Breaking News — a song about you, of course.

There comes a point during the night, a split second during which Eddie stops thinking about you. Not for any particular reason. Nothing spectacular happens for him to do so, he just… does. But it’s only a fleeting moment. He regrets it as soon as he realises. He especially regrets it when Marianne approaches him, a concerned look spread across her usually composed features — although the rockstar doesn’t pick up on her expression immediately.

“What did you think of the performance?” Eddie asks, smiling wide.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches for the half-empty glass in his hand and sets it aside before exhaling a sigh.

He furrows his brows, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

“Eddie, there’s been an accident.”

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[humbledragon669]

Lockdown Episode Write Up P2 – dialogue

Introduction

I don’t think there’s much linking the dialogue with the images (apart from the cake sequence), so I’ve broken this write-up down into tableaus and dialogue, because there are just as many Easter eggs (maybe more) to be had from the tableaus as there are from the script. This part of the write-up will address just the dialogue, with the tableaus addressed in a separate write-up. Right, housekeeping done, let’s get stuck in shall we?

Dialogue

So Crowley picks up on the second ring, sounding very irritated. Considering he’s about to tell Aziraphale how bored he is, you’d think he might actually be relieved about the prospect of somebody calling him. And poor Aziraphale; the brusque greeting clearly puts him off, presumably because he was hoping for a more enthusiastic response, particularly given that Crowley openly tells the angel he knows that it was him calling in the first place.

AZIRAPHALE: Uh… Hello. It’s me! CROWLEY: I know it’s you, Aziraphale.

My thoughts about this exchange? I strongly suspect Aziraphale is the only one that ever calls Crowley. Not only that, I think he’s probably calling the demon multiple times a day at this point. I mean, think about it – neither of them work for their respective agencies anymore. For the first time in 6000 years they can be open about their friendship, no more hiding. And for the first time in those 6000 years something other than Heaven or Hell is making it impossible for them to see each other. I know, they really could have formed a “bubble”, or just ignored the rules completely, given their otherworldly status, but they didn’t because don’t forget – this is a PSA film at heart. Everybody had to STAY AT HOME. Besides, it makes it so much more angsty if they can’t be within physical proximity to one another during this time.

AZIRAPHALE: Just calling to see how you were doing in Lockdown.

Aziraphale actually says makes it sound like this is either the first time the angel has spoken to Crowley during Lockdown (which had been going on for almost two months by the time this minisode was released), or that they don’t speak very often. Personally, I don’t buy this, not least because the demon openly says he’s incredibly bored. And what does Crowley like to do best when he’s bored? Hang out with Aziraphale. Be his personal nuisance.

CROWLEY: I’ve decided that if I can’t think of anything to do within the next two days, I’m going to have a nap and I’ll set the alarm clock for June.

I *think* this is the first time we have confirmation that he does sleep, at least as far as the show is concerned (I’m not counting cut/missing bits from the Script Book, or from the original book). There’s also proof here that he’s actually an optimist, despite his efforts to convince the world at large otherwise – he’s convinced that everything will be back to normal by June. Interestingly, the UK’s really strict national regulations had actually been eased by the time the minisode was released, allowing those who could not work from home to return to work (yeah, we didn’t really know what that meant either, considering those of us who were classed as key workers never stopped going to the workplace), but June was still a very optimistic estimate – whilst restrictions were eased as we went into July, local governments were given the authority to impose local lockdowns where necessary. And boy, did they.

AZIRAPHALE: Oughtn’t you to be out and about doing things?

It's interesting to hear Aziraphale actually encouraging Crowley to be more demon-like. And he doesn’t just encourage, he gives him very appropriate suggestions for things he could be doing to fulfil his demonly duties. To my mind, it suggests his preference for Crowley in a demonic state. Or it could be an opportunity to emphasise the STAY AT HOME message, seeing as (for once) Crowley seems keen to stick to the rules. Take your pick. I know which one I prefer. Either way, there are two pieces of information here that I find noteworthy – firstly, confirmation that Crowley can’t get sick because he’s a demon. I think it’s interesting what human weaknesses the angel and demon are susceptible to, and which not. Alcohol, for instance, albeit in larger quantities than a human could imbibe, has the same effect on their human bodies as it does to humans. Illness and disease on the other hand, it would seem not. Laudanum, as we see in series 2, has an entirely different effect on Crowley than it would do to an ordinary human, but Hastur informs us that ordinary fire would easily discorporate a demon. Makes me wonder if the effect that a Heavenly or Hellish being has on its hosting body is one to do with constitution – where the body has an increased resistance to toxic substances but is unaffected in its ability to deal with trauma.

The second piece of information in this little plea from Aziraphale is that he says Crowley still has a job to do. Which, given the outcome of season 1, he doesn’t. I don’t think it was made blatantly obvious that neither of them report to their respective agencies anymore, so perhaps this is just a slip of the pen, so to speak. It might have been a bit more difficult to slip in this blatant reminder to people that leaving home was a BAD thing to do and that staying at home was the GOOD thing to do otherwise, and this little speech is very clear about listing certain things that were being actively discouraged at the time.

CROWLEY: I could do that. I mean I could… but if I did then… well…people might follow my bad example and get ill. Or even die.

Crowley’s response is… less than enthusiastic. It’s funny to hear him say that people might follow his bad example – surely that’s exactly what he’s been contracted to do for thousands of years? But again, I am forgetting – the whole point of this piece of media is to remind them why we should all just STAY AT HOME. So, with that reminder, let’s look a little more about Crowley’s actual feelings on the subject, shall we?

CROWLEY: I know I ought to be making people’s lives even worse but everyone’s so miserable cooped up right now anyway I just… don’t have the heart for it.

And therein lies the problem for Crowley and his existence as a demon – he actually doesn’t like to make people miserable. He loves to cause mischief and make trouble, but not with the sole intention to bring misery into people’s lives. Ultimately, he’s just too soft at heart to be a very good demon, which David himself has described beautifully.

AZIRAPHALE: I’m not miserable. CROWLEY: Really?

I really love this little exchange. Crowley sounds genuinely shocked that Aziraphale is so certain in his proclamation that he’s not miserable. And it’s hardly surprising really – I strongly suspect the reason that Crowley is feeling so down in the dumps is because he’s not getting a regular fix of his angel, so it stands to reason that he would expect Aziraphale to feel the same way. He’s probably had a little bit of his heart broken to hear that his angel is seemingly coping without him so well. It’s a good thing we go on to hear that basically the reason why Aziraphale is so happy at this time is because he’s not getting any customers in with the threat of trying to buy one of his books, although the angel’s speech does present the writer with another opportunity to remind us of our obligations at the time – social distancing and STAYING AT HOME.

You have to be paying attention, but Crowley doesn’t seem too pleased with the idea that Aziraphale might have needed rescuing from some errant youths that he wasn’t able to help with; there’s a quiet groan from him when he hears the retelling of the story. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think there was some sort of double entendre going on here with Aziraphale’s tease of there being “a few young lads” who “broke in through the back”, so that groan could actually be one of relief rather than frustration. What is interesting is that Crowley openly mocks the only potential rescue scenarios that Aziraphale would have had available to him – he’s obviously smarting that he didn’t get to be the white knight for once.

CROWLEY: Did you smite them with your wrath?

I’d be very interested to know if the script had been finished and handed to David and Michael at this time, because that particular line feels like a very obvious reference to the smited/smote/smitten exchange. And if the reference is a genuine one, my double entendre idea doesn’t seem so outrageous, given Crowley’s tone – could he be a little bit jealous?

What now follows is the only time that the images in the minisode link directly with the dialogue going on at the time, and they’re all to do with cake. Trigger warning, what follows is a lot of pictures of cake. If, like me, you are inclined to go out and buy cake as soon as you see a picture of one, I would suggest you look away now.

What I love about Crowley’s reception of the knowledge that Aziraphale sent the little vandals away with cake is that he uses the same expression that Anathema uses when she asks about the name of Newt’s car.

CROWLEY: I’m going to regret asking…

His tone shows just what he thinks of the angel’s method for rescuing himself. And if you consider Aziraphale’s tale to be a truthful account of what took place, it does seem odd - that somebody could just have a little chat with some wannabe robbers to change their minds, and then send them away with some excess cake. There is however a missing scene in the Script Book where several thugs enter the bookshop and start to make a mess in an attempt to get Aziraphale to sell the land the shop sits on. In a somewhat “miraculous” turn of events (see what I did there?), they change their mind, clear up the mess they made, and leave without a fuss. I suspect the same sort of turn of events occurred to the lads that turned up to steal the cash box.

AZIRAPHALE: It turns out I have a whole cookbook section here in the bookshop.

I love this idea, that the bookshop is so sprawling and diverse that even Aziraphale doesn’t know what it contains, despite the fact that he must have stocked it in the first place. And I love it because that’s the how every second-hand bookshop feels to me. I’ve spent my fair share of time in Hay-on-Wye and its multitude of bookshops, and I genuinely feel like I could get lost in some of them. There are another couple of lines from Aziraphale that suggests that he does not think it possible to eat anything unless it comes from an eatery.

AZIRAPHALE: Well all the restaurants and cafes are closed […] and I got peckish.

Because he couldn’t just go to the supermarket and buy some cake, could he? Like the rest of us were doing (and were allowed to do). He even goes on to say that he had to miracle the cherries in for one of his creations – quite why it was only the cherries he miracled in I don’t know, I mean he must have gotten the rest of the ingredients from somewhere. Which leads me on to another question – where is the kitchen in the bookshop? There must be some facilities somewhere, otherwise he couldn’t make all of those delightful looking goodies. He’s got to have a kettle or a stove for boiling water/milk at the very least for making his cocoa, so where is all that stuff?

Aziraphale then goes on to reel off a list of cakes that he’s made (another nod to the domestic activities that were going on up and down the country – for those not based in the UK, you might not know that during Lockdown it was virtually impossible to get hold of flour or eggs, largely owing to the huge increase in home baking people did), which includes angel’s food cake (you could argue that all of the cakes he makes is angel’s food cake, hahah. Hah. I’ll get my coat). I don’t know whether it’s interesting, whether it’s an oversight, or whether it’s deliberate, but there’s no devil’s food cake on the list that he gives. I’ve made and eaten devil’s food cake before. It’s awesome. I don’t think that he wouldn’t have made this particular recipe because of its lack of deliciousness. I actually wonder whether its absence is an indicator of Crowley’s eating preferences (and as a reminder, I’m someone who is of the mind that he doesn’t enjoy eating – more on this shortly).

 AZIRAPHALE: And then, once I’ve baked them, I have to eat them all myself.

This line makes me properly snort with laughter, because he simultaneously manages to make it sounds like eating all the cake is something he definitely doesn’t want to do whilst also expressing sorrow that he has no-one around to eat them in front of with. The idea that this angel would ever not want to eat food is laughable. Crowley takes the bait on the sub-text though, employing some his tried and tested temptation techniques to try to get what he wants.

CROWLEY: I could hunker down at your place. Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle of- a case of something… drinkable?

This is my favourite line of the whole thing. The throwaway reference to his serpent form is delightful, and who’s to say he wouldn’t transform for his trip over to Soho to avoid being stopped by humans? There’s  the idea that he would very much like to get drunk with Aziraphale again, and this time without an impending Armageddon to spoil the mood, and with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be going home at the end of their binge. But most of all there’s that line about the cake. He doesn’t say he can help Aziraphale eat the cake – he says he can come and watch the angel eat it. Which would not only go some way to confirming my suspicions that he doesn’t like to eat but would also help to cement the popular theory that watching Aziraphale eat is a pleasurable experience for him. The whole line is said with such longing too, it’s impossible not to hear it.

AZIRAPHALE: I’m afraid that would be breaking all the rules.

If you listen carefully to Aziraphale’s rejection of Crowley’s (quite frankly, adorable) suggestion, you can hear another little bit of the demon’s heart breaking with disappointment. I suppose he probably shouldn’t be surprised that his request of Aziraphale to go against protocol wouldn’t have gone down well and besides we were all supposed to STAY AT HOME, remember? What sort of a PSA film would this be if people just went around to other people’s houses for some flirting nookie company when there was a Lockdown in place?

AZIRAPHALE: I’ll see you when this is over.

So of course, Aziraphale says no thank you very much (quite a lot of Tory party members could have learned a lot from the angel’s morals, and none of them are half as likeable as he is), but how incredibly sad does he sound at the prospect of not knowing when he and Crowley will see each other again? Crowley might have quietly voiced his disappointment multiple times during the conversation, but Aziraphale’s own disappointment here is stated loud and clear.

Crowley’s upset can be heard again after this very final sounding line from his angel (and this time it breaks my own heart a little bit) but he rallies well, changing his planned nap end time to July, rather than June as declared earlier. It’s a pretty perfect way to get out of missing someone, isn’t it? Just go to sleep until you can see them again; I’m sure there are a lot of people that would definitely be on board with that approach. He doesn’t leave any further room for discussion either:

CROWLEY: Good night, angel.

It’s very definite – conversation over, nothing more to say. My thoughts are that he’s just too depressed to carry on talking on the phone to the one person he would much rather be spending time with in person, and now that he’s found a quick and painless solution to the problem (a nap), he just wants to get on with it. Charmingly though, this parting line sounds nothing like the dismissal it seems like it is when you see it written down. The delivery of this line conveys the familiarity and comfort that exists between the two of them, and actually makes it sound like this is a regular conversation that they have, despite the dialogue suggesting otherwise. As it turned out, July wasn’t really long enough to get completely clear of the restrictions that would see our heroes united freely, but who can blame him for being optimistic? And at least if he’s asleep, he’s definitely STAYING AT HOME.

Well I think that’s the lot for this write up. So much for this being such a short episode that it wouldn’t need a lot of time devoted to it. It was a fun little thing; in truth I think it serves more as a PSA that as an additional source of storyline/character development but that hasn’t dampened my enjoyment of it. Time to move on to season 2 now (which I am both excited and a little bit nervous about – there is so much to say!), so for the meantime, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome 😊

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

lrt the key thing to remember about covid is that it isn't magic. It has to get in you first before it can infect you, and you have to have a certain amount of viral load before it can take over (it doesn't take much anymore, but it still has to reach that threshold).

The key to being able to do fun, indoor things is to find an n95 or higher respirator, test to make sure it fits you without leakage, and then do not take off your mask. ever.

This is where it gets people. I hear tons of stories from people who caught Covid even though they masked, and it almost always turns out they took it off for one reason or another.

"Hungry or thirsty?" Eat and hydrate beforehand or plan to stay until you get hungry. If you have a medical condition where you have to eat or take meds while you're out, find a place outside and bring multiple masks so you can put on a fresh one when you're done. For thirst, they actually make something for this. Do not take off the mask.

"What if we wanna take a selfie?" Take them beforehand or keep the masks on. Do not take off the mask.

"What about air breaks?" No air breaks. If you can't tolerate being in a mask for long periods, you cannot safely go to long events. Do not take off the mask.

Respirators have a seal. When you break the seal by taking it off, they do not work as effectively. The seal can also break after a certain amount of use, which changes depending on how many other people are masking around you. I used to have a diagram showing how long each masks last in different situations, but I sadly cannot find it so I won't say a specific time since I can't confirm it, but this is essentially why if I'm going to attempt something riskier, I wear a p100 because those are good for 8hrs before you have to change the filter, and anything that I go to indoors won't be more than 3hrs (simply because I'm old and I ain't staying out longer than that lol)

I really appreciate that op made a psa, because the point of that post I think a lot of people are missing is that we need to be in full pandemic mode specifically because of the wave. But the problem with writing Covid things in a sensational kind of way is that it makes mitigation seem like an impossible task that requires monk like sacrifice, and that makes people immediately shut down. It's not, even in a huge wave like this. Will you have to change your routine and behaviors, and some of those changes might be inconvenient? Absolutely. But they will never be impossible. It's important to remember that adaptation isn't sacrifice. You're not "giving up" anything. You're still gonna be able to have your social needs met, you'll just be doing it in a different way for awhile.

If you want to hang out with a small group of friends at their/your house, and it's too cold to be outside or you just don't want to, the safest way to do it is universal masking, full vaccinations, testing multiple times beforehand, and using at least one air purifier that filters up to 0.1-0.5 µm in the room you'll be gathering in. This can be done diy with a Corsi-Rosenthal box if you need something cheaper! Air filters suck in viruses faster than people can breathe them in, so the risk of getting covid would be incredibly low in this situation (but never zero). If you want to share a meal, know that taking off the masks will increase the risk, but at least let the purifer run at the highest setting tolerable for an hour before doing so

If you can't afford to stop reusing your N95s, I recommend either locating a mask bloc near you and ask for some mask donations, or buy an elastomeric n95 like this one. There are many to choose from and while they are more expensive, they're reusable, with the filter only needing to be changed after 8 hours (or sooner if in a big crowd)

Some people are currently inventing portable air-purifiers you can pair with masks, and you can 3-D print them!

You're at work/the dentist/some other situation where you absolutely can't go outside in a non-crowded space, and you need to take down your mask? Nasal sprays like this one can be a good extra layer of protection for these situations. You can always, like with most viruses, rinse out your nose after being in public and rinse your mouth with CPC mouthwash for even more extra layers of protection.

One of the frustrations I have with the current Covid advocacy is that it's still largely focused on near-total abstinence, which has never been and never will be an effective education tool. I prefer taking a cue from AIDS advocacy and focus on education and providing resources. Of course, staying home is the only way to stay 100% safe, and you should choose contactless options whenever you can as long as the pandemic is still going. But isolation is becoming less and less realistic for most people and I want to still show them that you can stay safe even if you can't stay home.

Covid is not an impossible task. It's not magic. You do not need to catch that wave. These are imperative facts we as a collective have to internalize if we want out of this pandemic. You are not helpless. We've had airborne viruses for years and years, and we've known how to protect ourselves from them as well. We've known how to protect from Covid, specifically, for years. The only reason it's gotten this bad and is still a pandemic is because our governments benefit more from the masses being sick and needing resources, full stop. Like climate change, we have the tools to beat this virus back at any point. Because of this, even in this huge wave, there is no reason you have to only exist online. There are ways you can see your friends safely.

All people like OP are saying is that, at least until this wave improves, you should do that without going to the bars, clubs, restaurants, concert venues, etc. Because it's not only extremely unsafe for you, but it's putting other people in danger too.

[preservationofnormalcy]

Ok, so I’m writing a novel involving paranormal investigation (no relation to you, takes place in a fictional town) and I’m on my third draft when the main character shows up behind me, grabs and turns me around to tell me of the “inaccuracies to his case”. Now I wrote them down and how I should change them. And when I looked up from my notepad, he was gone.

I want to continue, and most of these I feel like I can implement within the story, but what exactly happened? And if this becomes a series, will he continue to pop up, or was it one of those “one in a blue moon scenarios”?

And what do I do if it isn’t?

Hey Norm...

Hmm? Didn't you do a PSA about this exact subject in the nineties?

Oh, uh, sure. When I first started. Around '99. It's waaay outdated, now, you know, with the internet and everything, it's better to not even look it up. I don't think it was even digitized, really. I have no idea what happened to it.

Oh, Norm, don't worry! If there's one person who knows your filing system better than you, it's me! Let's see...H for Holmes, S for Sherlock...cross reference to P for Parafictional, 90s...HERE WE GO! "Dear Watson: That's Not Holmes, That's A Lure!"

Oh good, they put it on a disc so that a tech savvy person could find it, uh, twenty five years later. I wouldn't play it, I can't guarantee--

<An old, color degraded video begins playing. It's clearly shot on VHS, with a minimal budget, and had degraded somewhat before being transferred to digital. A man stands in a small, cinderblock room in front of a backdrop depicting a victorian study. He is wearing a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows and a pair of smart slacks. A deerstalker hat sits conspicuously on a stack of actual books, Sherlock Holmes novels. The man himself looks sort of like what you'd get if you focus-group-tested the only type of man Don Bluth knew how to draw, and has curtain bangs with frosted tips. The whole ensemble has the energy of a store-brand Milo Thatch. As he speaks, his eyes don't leave a fixed point behind the camera.>

So. You have encountered an entity from a fictional property. You're excited - maybe you wanted to talk to your favorite book character. Or. Maybe you are a writer and you are excited to talk to your protagonist. But...is that entity real?

<There's an extremely awkward camera change, and the man looks to it, his eyes following a point again.>

....or a lure?

<He leans back and there is a too-long pause before he continues.>

When encountering a parafictional manifestation, remember the three S's.

<The visuals change to a grainy blue background, white text appearing as the man's voiceover continues.>

Solidity: are you are this entity is physical and not all in your head?

Subjective: if it's real, are other people seeing the same thing?

Sentience: is this entity sentient, or merely approximating sentience? Is it answering questions like a sentient entity, or like how it would be expected to answer?

<It cuts back to the man, standing behind the chair with his hands on the back. There is a too-long pause again.>

If...uh.

If this entity doesn't pass any of these easy-to-remember checks, that's a red flag. Any number of malicious extranormal entities can exploit the human capacity for creativity in order to feed on our psychic energy, creating a non-sentient construct we call a "Chinese Room" in order to keep YOU from asking questions.

Remember next time you see Darth Vader, Spider-man, or Tarzan - are you so incredibly lucky to experience such a rare phenomena as true parafictional manifestation?

<He awkwardly puts a pipe in his mouth and blows a few bubbles.>

Or are you being lured?

<The video ends.>

....god, my hair.

[angelic-ambedo]

The Weirdest Fucking Movies I've Ever seen Pt. 1

Okay so I sort of champion myself as a lover of weird movies. And it's funny because regardless of how many I've seen, every time I watch a weird movie I genuinely feel as if it is the weirdest movie I've ever seen in my life.

So, I decided to make a list which compiles all of said weird movies and then a description of why I find each so uniquely weird. If you find any of these descriptions or titles intriguing, I recommend you seek these movies out, because a weird movie = a good life ya know so yeah

If you have more weird movies please please recommend them im hungry for new crazy cinema bebesssss

Eraserhead (1977) - genuinely makes no sense.

Coherence (2013) - trippy scientifically interesting thriller

Some Velvet Morning (2013) - abusive cat n mouse relationship

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) - emotional violence

Greener Grass (2019) - let's shame suburbia!

Trash Humpers (2009) - people fucking the trash...?

Julien Donkey-Boy (1999) - mental illness be so sad and trippy

Gummo (1997) - literal photo album of a dysfunctional town

Slaughtered Vomit Dolls (2006) - bulimia PSA in disguise

Black Bear (2020) - art seeps into the "real" world

Begotten (1990) - god kills himself

Trouble Every Day (2001) - eating people presented as...a turn on?

Baise-Moi (2000) - punk feminist murderous women are sick and society sux

Palindromes (2004) - one character is played by a ton of different actors of different ages, races, and sexes

964 Pinocchio (1991) - so much vomit, even more cyberpunk lobotomy sex machine madness

Meet the Feebles (1989) - the muppets give each other STDs and commit mass murder

In the Realm of the Senses (1976) - a torrid, pornographic affair used to escape the horrors of a war-torn world

Enter the Void (2009) - going to the past, present, and future, POV shots that include blinking, going inside the body, taboo themes with a psychedelic style

Love (2015) - horny pseudo-porno about a misogynistic asshole who somehow pulls hot, sexually adventurous women

Climax (2018) - LSD fueled nightmare

Pink Flamingos (1972) - a competition to be the "filthiest person alive" (spoiler alert: the cool drag queen wins)

Vivarium (2019) - Suburbia is still creepy, guys

Be My Cat: A Film for Anne (2015) - can we please stop having erotomania like celebrities aren't into u babe :(

No No Nooky TV (1987) - Computers being cool and saying "boobs" and "clit"

The Piano Teacher (2001) - unsafe nonconsensual bdsm and sexual repression is...no. please no.

The Night Porter (1974) - stockholm syndrome and wild bdsm stuff with postwar themes

Belle de Jour (1967) - more bdsm themes

Titane (2021) - woman fucks a car and gets pregnant

Daisies (1966) - two girls cut up pickles and destroy the patriarchy

Creep 1 and 2 (2014, 2017) - murder has never been this funny

Garbanzo Gas (2007) - a human cow gets an all-expenses paid trip to a motel before it hits the slaughterhouse

Melancholie der Engel (2009) - ew.

In Our Garden (2002) - old men dicks + weirdest dialogue I've ever heard in my life

The Rehearsal (TV series) (2022) - this is the ultimate weirdest thing ever and I don't know how else to categorize it.

Trigger Warnings (all of these movies are weird/fucked up but some of them contain actual fucked up stuff that like. happened in real life. so below are the triggers for that kind of stuff. All of these films are genuine films, not the gore stuff the internet produces, but some of them because of the country/time period/transgressiveness include content that is inappropriate and/or ethically unacceptable, so I've included those movies below)

Baise-Moi - unsimulated sex scenes which includes SA scenes that actors consented to but characters did not. this proves a feminist point but is still incredibly upsetting and stayed with me for a while as there are close ups and its awful.

In the Realm of the Senses - Please look into this one more before you watch it, I'm not going to describe things in detail because it makes me so uncomfortable but there are some scenes that involve young actors that should not ethically have been in the situations they were put in. The movie is exceptionally well made and from what I know globally respected so I don't know why they had to ruin it for me but whatever.

Pink Flamingos - One infamous scene involves an actual chicken death. It was the early 70s (long time ago and no PETA) and they apparently ate the chicken afterward, so I felt less immoral about this one but still gross.

Melancholie der Engel - okay please genuinely never watch this movie unless you're super into traumatizing yourself and are very desensitized I guess. There's a ton of actual animal abuse in very very graphic/unnecessarily disturbing shock type situations. There's other bad unsimulated stuff but this is the worst of it from what I know.

Love and Meet the Feebles contain scenes that are transphobic and/or racist, which is gross. Slaughtered Vomit Dolls was made by a very bad person. A bunch of the movies also have unsimulated sex stuff, I don't know if that makes anyone uncomfortable but if it does I'm just putting it out there.

[uglyduchessrantsandcomments]

PSA to all Viravos shippers: your ship is canon in Dutch

So I've been blessed with a new teaching job in the Netherlands (no that's not off topic), and because I'm a good teacher and a serious person I was brushing up on my language skills and decided to watch tdp in Dutch. I must say I am *blown away* by the voice acting, which is incredibly accurate and true to the original.

So in season 3 ep 6, Soren calls Aaravos Viren's "kleine rupsvriendje" (or "insectenvriendje" in the subtitles), which is the translation for "little bug pal", or more accurately "little caterpillar friend". HOW-EV-ER, "vriendje" is a fun little word that means both "little friend" and boyfriend, which honestly gives a whole new, hilarious meaning to the scene, like:

Soren calls Aaravos Viren's "little caterpillar boyfriend"

Viren's like "yea let's call him that why the hell not"

Aaravos is totally rolling with it with his next line, "has our relationship escalated to that point" 👀👀👀👀

This is a translation masterpiece, give these people a raise 🙏 I'm not even a Viravos shipper but... Well now they're canon in Dutch.

Native Dutch speakers please tell me I'm right please please

EDIT: I know it's not actually canon, it's just that the potential double entendre made me laugh and I wanted to share it with you guys. Please don't consider this as canon information obviously!!!

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine joining the Doctor on a trip in the most reckless way...

"The Sapphire Waterfall?" You repeated, slowing your walk towards Donna. "Did he say Sapphire Waterfall?"

"Yeah, why?" Donna wondered, taking a sip of her drink. You halted and gasped in excitement. Starting to trek backwards, you pointed at Donna.

"Call him back and tell him to wait!" You instructed, leaving your friend confused as you bolted in the opposite direction. Running through the hotel, you zoomed past people and aliens until you reached the train bay.

You realised that you didn't ask Donna which dock the Doctor was standing at and felt your heart sink knowing that you were going to miss an incredible sight.

The shuttle to Sapphire Waterfall is now boarding to close on Dock 6.

The overhead voice announced and you counted your lucky stars for this information. Looking above, your saw the red sign for Dock 6 less than a metre away. Sprinting forward, you recognised the Doctor's brown coat flying with the wind just outside the door to a shuttle that was slowly leaving.

He was looking forward, in the direction that the ship was going before disappearing back inside - the door luckily still open. You considered calling for him but it be a waste of energy. You ran along the edge of the platform, building up speed and lined yourself up with the doors. The platform was coming to an end so you took in a deep breath before taking a leap of faith and jumped off - headed straight for the door.

Mistake. This whole thing was a mistake.

You cursed yourself for doing something so stupid and knew that this was only going to end one way: you were going to hit the side of the shuttle and fall to your death. Just as your made peace with fate, a hand fastened itself around your wrist and pulled you into the ship. You propelled forward and smacked into a chest with a familiar scent as the shuttle door sealed shut.

"Hello there." Ten whispered mysteriously keeping his hands on you to maintain balance. "Couldn't resist some alone time with me?"

You laughed at the sound of his voice and looked up at his charming face complete with big brown eyes. You snaked your hands around his shoulders and leaned forward for a kiss until the Air Hostess appeared into view and knocked on the wall gently.

"May I advise you that all passengers are required to take their seats before we leave the facility." She informed.

The Doctor cleared his throat and nodded, giving the hostess her cue to leave. You pulled on Ten's tie gently and smiled.

"We should get going."

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: 60th Anniversary here we come! PSA - unless the Doctor is going to catch you, pls don't jump off alien platforms x

[alchely]

PSA

Yesterday I found this YouTuber's Gallavich videos,they are INCREDIBLY well edited with very on point scene selection and song choices and they have basically no views. I think they deserve some love ;)

This one has less than 100 views

This one HAS LESS THAN 20 VIEWS

Please go show them some love

[sereia1313]

Guilty Pleasure/Cringe PSA

Why did this ever become a thing? Why were we ever made to feel guilty about something we enjoy? And why has it evolved to the point when doing so makes people cringe?

The concept is so stupid. 

Even within the world of fandom, where people are supposed to be more accepting, insults are thrown, and fights break out because we don’t like things the same way. Or we happen to like two different characters. 

It’s garbage. 

Life is too short to waste time worrying about the opinions of others when it comes to things that make us happy. We should be able to revel in the bliss of a hobby, or the melody of a song, or the repetitiveness of a trope as we read about the same pair falling in love again and again because it helps us escape the horror that is reality. 

Listen to the song.  Crochet the stuffy.  Buy the figurine.  Wear the cosplay.  Write the fic.  Draw the art. 

Be proud of what makes you happy, and stop questioning the bliss of others, even when you don’t understand it or it’s different from yours. Everyone finds something different at the end of the rainbow, and it is not up to you to judge their choice, tear them down, or make them question why they like it in the first place. People should not have to hide behind pretense and popular opinion to fit in. 

Acceptance is something that you have to learn, something you have to practice. You may even have to teach it now and then. It’s hard, but you will be a better human for it. Building people up has long-lasting effects, and it’s incredible what making someone smile will do to your day. 

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. And never let anyone dull your sparkle. 

[ckret2]

Does bill have "a type"? Since you said he only dates every millennium, what kinds of stuff would catch this lunatic's eye? What would motivate him?

You're getting a read more because I listed every single blessed thing I could think of. The tl;dr:

artists (who depict him)

hot eyeballs (subjective)

no head

bright natural coloration

emotional doormats

party animals

nerds, provided they're also attractive other ways

worshipers

things that can injure him

getting gifts

someone who expresses interest first but lets him take the lead

really tacky expensive displays of wasting wealth

someone he thinks is similar enough to "understand" him

This is the first point because it's the answer he'd give: if you ASK him, he'll say he's "a complete sucker for those deep, brooding artist types." He'll say this like it's his biggest weakness. He says it like it's a charming little character flaw. This is the narrative he tells himself. What he ACTUALLY means is if you hit on him, and if you have created art of him (visual art, sculpture, music, poetry), the odds that he'll return the interest go up by 1000%. He is incredibly vain, he loves art of himself, and "willing to give Bill art of himself" is an insanely attractive trait.

Some species have sexy eyeballs. Other species don't. It just so happens that Earth, as a whole, has evolved an array of eyeballs that are by and large pretty sexy when compared to the multiversal baseline. Those little, like, thready filament things in the irises? Mesmerizing. Visible veins?? Drive him crazy. Bloodshot eyes? Gonna be haunting his fantasies for weeks. Top tier is those frog eyes with multiple colors or crazy crackly-looking patterns.

He's not a fan of heads. Like, when a species puts a face on a little bobbly looking thing separated from the rest of the body, rather than right on the torso where it belongs? Looks weird. It's not a dealbreaker but he's definitely more attracted to species that put their faces where they belong. Similarly, a mouth without an eye in it looks weird.

Big fan of bright colors. You know what's attractive? Looking like Lisa Frank colored you. Wearing bright colors isn't as good as being bright colors, but he still finds wearing bright colors to be an attractive trait.

If you combine the last three points, I think that I accidentally made Bill's ideal lover a poison dart frog.

Usually at some point pretty early in the dating process he's gonna say something like "Just so you know—really, I'm not as bad as all the rumors and gossip and ancient legends and globally-broadcasted warning PSAs make me sound. But: I am totally crazy. You wanna stick with me, you've gotta be cool with crazy." What he's looking for is someone who says "oh I am SO cool with crazy, I am the MOST cool with crazy, crazy is GREAT." When he says this, he's not saying "I'm actually mentally ill and need someone who's supportive and understanding." He's also not saying "I'm a wild crazy fun party guy and I want a partner who can keep up with that lifestyle." What he's saying is "I am an inconsistent and inconsiderate asshole who will show no regard for you, and in a year when you're complaining about the selfish harmful things I'm doing, I'll get to roll my eye and go 'I THOUGHT you SAID you were COOL with crazy. Are you NOT cool with crazy??' And then I'll complain about you to my friends." So: he'll focus on naive emotional doormats he can push around. He'll probably draw back from someone who stands up to him, unless he got seriously interested in them before they grew a spine.

But that said, he is also more likely to show interest in people who can keep up with his lifestyle. He parties with apocalypse machines. If he sees an alien at a party where three absolutely wasted demigods started mixing sink chemicals and accidentally set off a big bang that took out half the neighborhood, and the next weekend he sees that alien at another party? That means they party hard, they don't scare easy, they don't die easy, and they avoided the cops. That's somebody he wants to spend time with. If they're not lover material, they might be Henchmaniac material. Similar opinions on substance use and mass destruction a plus.

He's kinda into nerds. Not in and of themselves, but if they already hit other traits he likes, that's a plus. If he has a choice between two identical people and one's dumb as a rock, he prefers the one who knows lots of things and likes to share facts and trivia. Bill goes for long, long stretches without feeling curiosity, and those stretches typically coincide with when he feels most depressed; someone who can drive him to think a little bit is a godsend.

If someone literally worships him, like as a god, he's into that. It's not partner material but he'll put a star next to their name in his booty call list.

Any novel Extreme Sensations, he likes. Particularly pain. Not a lot of stuff can hurt him in his true form. If someone can make him feel pain, that's interesting to him. Not even necessarily in a BDSM way. If holding someone's hand feels like being electrocuted, or they give off a gas that makes everything too loud and makes him see weird colors? That's someone he wants to touch.

I think I've just added another trait to the "poison dart frog" column.

His love language is gifts & favors, both giving and receiving. If somebody gives him a gift, he'll remember them positively. Even if it's a kinda lame gift. It makes him feel liked. Roses & chocolates would work on him.

He's not liable to be the first to express interest, because he finds being rejected utterly devastating. On the other hand, he prefers to take the lead/call the shots in a relationship. So if somebody lets it be known that they're interested in him, but then hangs back to allow him to make the first move? Appealing.

He's a sucker for gold and tacky displays of wealth. Like he's sort of disgusted by wealthy people, but he's very into wealth. If you're rich have fun with it. If you're not ordering a $900 sundae coated with gold leaf just because you can then what's the POINT. Also, Bill is tacky. If some multidimensional billionaire decides to show an interest in him by gifting him an extremely ugly diamond-covered top hat, he'd probably let them do things to him that he wouldn't even confess to his doctor. (He doesn't have a doctor but.) I think what this boils down to is that he's only into rich people who are living like they want to go broke as soon as possible.

He goes through most of his existence feeling like Nobody Understands Him. Part of this is because he's bad at communicating his sincere feelings & emotional needs and even worse at relating to or caring about other people; but part of it is just because there's not a whole lot of people who can directly relate to "my ambition drove me to destroy my entire universe and ever since then I've been grappling with the paralyzing guilt while struggling to find a new universe." So when he DOES meet somebody who he believes can really, truly understand him the way most people can't? He emotionally latches onto them HARD. Not necessarily romantically, but it easily could be. This is last on the list but probably the most important point to getting a genuine emotional connection rather than fleeting physical attraction from him.

Example that hits multiple of the above points: one of his longest & most emotionally meaningful relationships was with a sentient black hole who—quite literally—destroys anyone who gets too close to her, and is constantly wracked with chronic pain due to being a fucking black hole. She did poetry at open mic nights. She'd go up to a mic and say something like "this poem is called The Taste Of Unwillingly Consuming The Solar System You Called Your Home" and then scream into the microphone for five minutes without pause. Bill was like "she's the only one in the multiverse who Gets It." He is a sucker for brooding artists. She let him get away with unspeakable things because he's one of the only entities powerful enough to get physically close to her and survive. Which was incredibly painful, but hey, he was into that too.

Maybe they'd still be together if she looked like a frog.