#commercial slogan

[incorrect-thuggory-quotes]

Thuggory: Be it by dragon or by ship, if it fits, it ships — anywhere in the Archipelago! 😎

[oldshowbiz]

catchy slogan

[candied-heartss]

my taste in men can range anywhere from twinks to men old enough to be my father/grandfather

[disastergay]

"project liberty-" shut up. shut up and die. I hate you.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

almost wish i'd made driscoll's go-to candy skittles instead of snickers for the Colorfulness Of It All, but: the kid definitely prefers chocolate, so i think we're stuck :(

[lizardsfromspace]

The exception is cheesy local commercials. Those should be the only ads. I will listen to someone who runs a store in my city doing an awkward rap. We once had a furniture store with these awful CGI ads and the slogan "where the deals are so low, it's almost criminal!" and then they got shut down, by the cops, because it turned out. It turned out the deals were so low because. You're not going to believe this but the prices were so low it was in fact

[kralmajales]

OH I’M SO FUCKING MAD.

[evaunit-00]

clearing my throat to the tune of “wayfair youve got just what i need”

[gghostwriter]

Have Your Cake

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Trope: Comfort; Established relationship w.c: 1.8k Trigger warnings: tackles eating disorder and body dysmorphia a/n: this is a really hard topic I personally felt the need to write about (in a way to comfort myself.) Its very personal as I used my past eating disorder here so if its something you’re not comfortable with, please go skip ahead to another fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer wrapped the front ends of his coat tighter on his slender body. It did little to no good fending off the cool seasonal air of an October night. His scuffled loafers squeaking from his shuffling feet. 

The line at your favorite bakery was unsurprisingly long on a Tuesday evening. Every night, the shop sells their remaining pastries at a discount To lure innocent commuters, tired from a long day of pushing papers. He usually wasn’t one to give in to the notion of ‘treating yourself’—unless counting out his big spendings on first editions written in its original language.

He gave the cashier a slight smile before listing off his purchase, one slice of their decadent strawberry shortcake and another of their vanilla bean sponge cake—both your favorites. And both an integral part of his perfectly thought of scheme to solve a riddle.

Your mystery.

In simple layman’s terms, they were bribery of some sort.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, side stepping his way out from the throng of customers holding their own trays of pastries and back into the cold October air.

He blamed himself for not noticing the change in patterns early on. His attention otherwise preoccupied by the trauma from his time in prison and the stares that vary from judgement to pity that come from officers outside of the BAU.

No longer was he the shining, new prodigy once hailed to be, now he was just damaged goods. His downfall from grace was an adjustment.

His mind was another matter, all together—could no longer detect subtle shifts in behavior as fast as he used to.

Yes, there was really no one else to blame but himself.

As his long strides covered the way home, the moon shining down on the empty streets, Spencer thought back to the moment when he finally noticed you eating less and less.

———

You pulled down the cuffs of Spencer’s Caltech sweater, leaving only the tips of your fingers peeking through. Everything about it made you self-conscious. How it drapes down your shoulders differently from before. How it wraps around your body, sending shivers down your spine. And how it leaves the lower half of your plush thighs exposed for anyone to see—anyone to judge. 

You hated it.

You hated how hyper aware a single comment from a distant relative made you feel.

**

A voice from a distance called out your name causing you to look around the aisles of grocery and come face to face with an aunt, twice removed from your father’s side. 

“It is you!” She leaned in to kiss your cheek. Her choice of perfume, a sickly sweet artificial scent of oranges, wafting on your nose.

It made you want to gag.

A fake smile donned your face. “Oh, hi Auntie. What a surprise to see you back in Virginia.”

“Oh, I just flew in for my husband’s sister’s birthday. You know how we are, always booked and busy with events,” she waved her hand, the ostentatious diamond ring on her finger catching the light. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated college. You look so different now—more and more like your mother.”

“Thanks, I always did look like her,” you awkwardly laughed.

Her eyes traveled down to your feet and back up again, a tight grin on her face. It made her look vicious, condescending, causing you to catch your breath as she uttered the words that would repeat in your head like a commercial slogan you can’t get away from.

“But you were much prettier when you were thinner—” her eyebrow raised, cataloguing the items in your cart. “Might want to cut down on the carbs a little bit, sweetie.”

She poked a wound inside of you that never seemed to fully heal.

You thought you were better, all those years of talking to your therapist and changing your relationship with food for the better made you believe those dark days were behind you. But those spitting phrases veiled as words of care from a family member amplified the doubts once buried in the recesses of your mind.

“I’ll keep that in mind. It was great seeing you, Auntie.”

**

The jiggling of keys brought you back to the present.

“Love, I’m home!”

You called back from the kitchen, finishing up plating tonight’s dinner—a fresh serving of Chicken Alfredo to share. “In here, Spence!”

With a saccharine smile on his tired but beautiful face, he wrapped his arms around your shoulder for a loving hug. His pillowy lips leaving trails of kisses from your temples, to your nose, to your cheeks, and finally landing on your awaiting lips. 

You giggled at his antics. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too,” another peck on the lips. “Dinner looks amazing. Thank you for cooking.”

“It’s no problem at all, you know how much I like to cook for you.”

He brought up a mystery package to showcase, eyes tracking every minuscule change on your face. “And I brought us some dessert! Your favorites from the bakery.” 

The smile on your face threatened to drop. “That’s—that’s great!”

———

You felt Spencer’s eyes on you all throughout dinner. One of the disadvantages of dating a man who earns his living by understanding human behavior and its changes—triggers, as he would like to call it, is never having the leisure of keeping a secret.

He means well, you‘d like to believe so, but that didn’t change the fact he knew something was bothering you. 

It made you feel like a riddle he wanted to solve. It made you want to scream and cry.

The only reprieve you could get was within the little confines of your shared bathroom, water beating down your back muffling the sobs that escaped from your tightly pressed lips.

Everything felt too much. 

The devil voices in your head listing off the calories each spoonful contains. The mathematical equation of how long you’d need to exercise to lose every unnecessary bite eaten over dinner. And the facade of keeping everything together—everything perfect.

You picked off the sides of your nails, already raw and starting to bleed. 

Maybe you shouldn’t eat breakfast and lunch tomorrow. Maybe you should walk the 15 minute commute from here to the office. It would take 30 minutes but that’s additional exerc—

“Love, is everything alright?” Spencer asked behind the locked bathroom door. 

You turned, turning off the shower, before hurriedly toweling off the droplets all over your hair and body. “Yes, I’m—I’m almost done!”

Swiveling around the dry area, you realized you forgot to bring in a change of clothes beyond a clean pair of underwear.

You sighed to yourself as you wrapped the towel around your chest. Still feeling uncomfortable and oddly naked even then. 

“Spence, there’s still some hot water left—are you okay?” You ask, having found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a distinct frown on his face. 

He stood up. Hands on your waist, shuffling both your bodies closer to one corner of bedroom.“It’s just—you know how much I deeply care for you, right?”

You slowly answered. “Yes, of course. I deeply care for you too.”

“So I have to ask, are you alright? Really alright?”

“Wha—what do you mean? Of course, I am—I’m completely fine,” you vehemently denied. The lump on your throat making you sound hysterical, even in your ears. If you couldn’t fool yourself, what chances were there that Spencer was fooled—none.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been eating smaller portions lately and you didn’t even take a bite of the cakes I brought home. You’ve also been going to the gym daily, instead of your usual five times a week. And you’ve started wearing my clothes more—not that it’s a problem. I love seeing you in my clothes but you’ve started to prefer baggy silhouettes rather than your usuals. It’s like you’re hiding your body. Are you sure you’re alright? You can tell me anything, I won’t judge.” 

It was the soft tone in his voice mixed with his doe, teary eyes that caused you to break under pressure. Your shoulders shook as sobs that you’ve kept bottled up rose to the surface. It was a wave of emotions that battered through your dam of facade. 

“I hate how I look—I hate that I gained weight,” you cried out. “I hate how a relative pointed it out and how her words won’t leave my mind. I hate it, Spence. I loathe it all—the voices in my head whispering how I should keep track of every meal I eat in a notebook like I did before. Telling me to never go beyond a 800 calories per day, to workout two hours a day twice! It’s just—” you took a deep breath, vision blurring from tears. “—so exhausting and please, make it stop.”

Spencer hugged you tight to his chest, as if wanting to merge you two as one to take away all your pain and sorrow. Your hands creasing his white button down with a grip so tight. 

For a second, it felt liberating to let it all out. But the fleeting emotion had passed, leaving you with only shame from your admittance.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way,” he detangled himself, enough to stare into your eyes. “Love, can I show you something?”

You nodded. He slowly turned you around, back against his chest, to face the full length mirror tucked in the corner. His eyes never leaving yours as his calloused fingers reached up to the tucked ends of the towel wrapped around your body. He tilted his head, asking for your permission to which you slowly nodded.

Your naked body was in full view. Your nails digging onto your palm as you catalogued every minuscule flaw there is—the additional flesh around your stomach and sides and your hips no longer as thin as they were before.

“Do you know what I see?” He softly asked.

You bit your lip before shutting your eyes close, unable to take what was right in front of you. “Me and how I gained weight?”

He placed a kiss on your temple. “No. I see a beautiful adult woman who has curves in all the right places—”

He laid a kiss on your cheek. “I see the love of my life in her full loving glory—”

He kissed the side of your neck. “I see my future wife who loves herself and all the changes that aging and our slowing metabolism entails—”

He placed one last kiss on your shoulder. “—I see you, and I love every piece of you. And I hope you love every part as much as I do.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[boreal-sea]

I just saw a Walmart commercial featuring deaf actors giving a gift to their deaf daughter, and it subtitled the ASL, which, fine, but then a voiceover came on to say the slogan and it wasn't subtitled??? You added subtitles for the ASL but didn't keep them for the voiceover? In a commercial featuring deaf actors, clearly intending to cater to deaf viewers?????

I don't think you thought this one out.

[paperback-rascal]

In episode Rookies we can see clone troopers listen to space!radio during their downtime. What if clones stationed in the quieter outposts listened to it so much they had plenty of eclectic inside jokes made out of commercial breaks adverts?

===

STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

the slogans are taken from KitKat and Snickers advertisement campaigns

[ayeforscotland]

So a little bit more on this image where Tory MSPs stand amongst a crowd of short-term let landlords holding up a variety of signs including weird girlboss slogans, something about shooting a family holiday in the back of the head, an autistic person's 'dream' about being an AirBnB landlord, and - because of course - antisemitism. Scotland is introducing legislation to curb AirBnB and short-term lets which particularly impact Edinburgh. The people in this photo are basically unregulated landlords who believe they are entitled to hoard property. This impacts everything from housing availability to rent in the city. The people above are protesting this legislation, and many are refusing to pay the couple of hundred pounds to apply for a license to continue operating their property empires. They say they'll be automatically rejected. But why? Why would they be automatically rejected?

Could it be that, when they acquired their properties, some of them may have not applied for planning permission to repurpose their flats as commercial properties? (Answer: Yes) Could it be that if they never applied for a 'Change of Use' in accordance with the Town and Country Planning (Use Classes) Scotland Order 1997 - this may perhaps render some of them in breach of their insurance? (Answer: Yes) Could it be that by not complying with planning regulations that some may have in fact committed mortgage fraud? (Answer: Yes)

[t00thpasteface]

my ochem prof is not the world's best public speaker. he keeps getting sidetracked closing the lecture slides to google random compounds and chemists that get namedropped in the slides, and then we just end up discussing different kinds of wetsuits or whether mothballs smell good or whatever. he also keeps trying to come up with metaphors to explain concepts, which means he'll also close the lecture slides to pull up pictures of candy bars and then describe their commercial slogans. earlier he somehow ended up on the wikipedia page for disco demolition night and i don't even remember why

[mcfriggingonagall]

Lmao love how she said "love letters to Kim Jung Un" when mentioning all the dictators who Trump looks up to. Watching this with my 89 year old grandpa and its so funny hearing his reactions to what Trump says.

Also is cowboys ac pro Trump? Their slogan is now make ac great again I think. At least that's what I heard on their commercial right now

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Bucky sees the pink energizer bunny commercials in the future, and that's it. It is decided. He makes Steve be the energizer bunny for Halloween because he's bouncing off the walls all the damn time.

Oh, and isn't the slogan "keep going and going?" Bucky knows a few things about that, and he knows it fits Steve to a T 😏

[petercapaldi-press]

INTERVIEW

Peter Capaldi: 'We didn't rehearse for The Thick of It. I could never remember my lines'

The Doctor Who star talks about the new series of The Devil's Hour, having a sinister voice, and how society has stopped investing in young people

(Photo: Yoshitaka Kono/Amazon Prime)

Helen Brown

October 18, 2024 5:00 am (Updated 8:58 am)

Peter Capaldi can trace the moment he “became the go-to person for the darker, more disturbing parts” back to 2013. “I was recording a voiceover for an Anchor Butter commercial,” he says. “They had a nice, cosy slogan, ‘Anchor butter: Tastes like Home.’ I did the line to the best of my ability, but they said: ‘Could you make it a little less sinister?’” He grins and shakes his head. “I thought, ‘It’s all over now! But if people want to buy sinister, that’s alright. I’ll give it to them!’”

Zooming onto my computer screen, he’s edgy in a crisp black blazer and a black shirt buttoned tight up to the jugular. This means that his pale, gaunt face seems to float above his collar like a ghost train skull – an effect he can enhance by tilting his head forward so that shadows blot out his eye sockets and hollows his cheeks. 

This happens when he rocks forward laughing at the recollection of how that Anchor butter experience would be his last commercial voice over – “because I could no longer do it without irony, without indicating my distrust of the whole process”. Capaldi was 55 at the time. He’d just finished a seven-year stint playing foul-mouthed spin doctor Malcolm Tucker in the fourth and final series of Armando Iannucci’s political comedy The Thick of It (2005-2012). And he was on the brink of sending a whole new generation of children scuttling behind their sofas as the Twelfth Doctor in Doctor Who, bringing an unprecedented existential chill into a show that had “obsessed” him from childhood.

Although this was always Capaldi’s take on Doctor Who, he tells me he was “never scared, not at all” by the programme when he was a boy. Instead he recalls the science fiction and horror films he devoured as “a gateway to the imagination” for a creative child. Capaldi, the son of Italian immigrants who ran an ice cream business (and were neighbours of the Iannucci family), famously wrote to the BBC, aged just six, to say that “when I grow up I want to be an actor so I can help Doctor Who”. By the age of 18, he was writing fanzines about the show and bothering fan-club directors by expecting a direct dialogue with the producers of his favourite show. 

It may seem like Capaldi was destined to play the Time Lord – but his working-class background forced him to take a roundabout route into acting. He didn’t get into drama school because he didn’t know enough about the audition process to have prepared monologues, and went to art school instead, where he became the lead singer in a punk rock band called the Dreamboys. “Art, music, horror films… all these OBSESSIONS,” he chuckles now, grateful for the government grant that enabled a working-class boy to imagine a career in the creative arts was possible. “Art school was the right place for me and my parents couldn’t afford it. Back then there was a belief in investing in the potential of young people, which seems to have gone. That’s terribly wrong, denying that potential.”

That said, Capaldi did get into trouble in his first year of art school for “spending too much of my grant on curries and lager and not enough on art supplies”. He recalls finding a letter his tutor had sent home to his parents, warning them he would be chucked off the course if he didn’t pull his socks up. “Luckily I got to the letter before my mother did, hid it and worked harder.” 

Capaldi fully expected to metamorphose into a director at this point. But – despite an initial invite to the Weinstein party – it didn’t happen for him. Looking back, he’s relieved not to have been sucked into the Hollywood system. “It is rare for British directors to flourish over there,” he says. “The traditional path is that they do an independent movie and the Americans love it. They get you on the phone and suddenly you’re making a film with some big Hollywood star and that does OK. But the next one doesn’t and it all begins to fall away… I think that may have been what would have happened to me…” He rakes a hand through his shock of white hair and chuckles ruefully. “Luckily it all fell away much more quickly than that in my case!”

But after “one really terrible year when there was no sense of anyone being interested in me in any way shape or form”, he was rescued by the plummy-voiced actor Martin Jarvis (who had appeared in Doctor Who in the 60s, 70s and 80s), who cast him in a radio play. Everything picked up from there. Which led to Malcolm Tucker. 

I’ve always thought one of the things that made Capaldi such a compelling Doctor – and now such a deeply unsettling Gideon Shepherd – is the way he seems to transmit unpredictability. The combination of the mad-scientist hair and restless energy lend him a crackle of cosmic instability that makes you think he could glitch between dimensions at any moment. He suspects he learned this working on The Thick of It. 

“Armando [Ianucci] was obsessed with filming everything live,” he says. “Although a lot gets made of the improvisation we did, he wanted the script word-perfect. But there were no rehearsals, so the performances were alive, full of attack.” He says there was added jeopardy playing Tucker because he “had so much material to learn I wasn’t always certain of my ability to grasp it all. Sometimes I would have to stick an extra ‘f***’ in while I searched for a word.” 

He hung onto that tension when he was cast as the Twelfth Doctor and says it “helped me keep things vital at times when we were down to a last take, shooting in a car park in the rain and the latex was all coming off the monster.” Some people, he says, “will have seen my Doctor Who through a Malcolm Tucker filter.”.

He agrees that The Devil’s Hour is, in many ways, a kind of Doctor Who for grown-ups, “plugging into a creepy cosmic thing I’ve accrued”. Instead of latex monsters, his character is battling “real, adult fears”. The show confronts us with rapists and paedophiles; torture, murder and mutilation. Blowing through the chilly heart of the series is the dread of isolation – the fear that even our parents and children may not know or love us. Perhaps that they’re not even real. 

“The show has been really popular,” mulls Capaldi with mild surprise as we wind up our chat. The actor tells me he’s a vulnerable person, “scared of all kinds of things as a father and as a grandfather… as a sentient observer of this world, what’s NOT to be scared of?” For this reason, the man who’s planning to spend his Christmas Day watching the new Nosferatu film suspects horror shows like The Devil’s Hour offer an essential release valve. 

“There’s a calming quality about going into this dark, nightmarish world. Then getting to the end, watching the credits roll and being reassured that it was all a pretence.”

‘The Devil’s Hour‘ series two is on Prime Video