#either way enjoy the fizzies! - poster

[immortal-saccharin-swan]

Y’all too harsh on the little spore guys. I mean, isn’t yeast like a maaaajor component in a LOT of baked goods?

"Yeah but like- that's bread! Isn't it??"

"And these things are literally designed to swarm us!"

[justanotherhh]

hold up wdym fizz is word of god demi? did a cast/crew member confirm it?👀

hey hello howdy!

before i get into anything i need to disclaim, for my own health, so bear with me:

first of all, i want to stress that word-of-god is fundamentally meaningless in the sense of actual canon (being a teenager under the reign of that book series about a magic school written by a bigot + the whole 2010s fondness of declaring characters to be gay maybe if you keep watching *wink wink* only to turn around and call queer fans deranged for caring too much... ive got no time for that nonsense)

on the other hand, i think there's also something to say for a show that's about 99.999% canonically queer characters and that sometimes narrative is showing not telling... that is to say... even if there hadn't been any kind of word of god, especially in a verse in which relationship structures are built along fundamentally non-heteronormative dominant lines, one gets to analyse different forms of queerness with far more deliberation than one might in a Very Straight Show In Which We Are Aware That This Was Not Intentional

on the... third? hand. specifically aspec identities, still very underrepresented, still very disputed, still very hard-done by, even when the visuals really do lean into a show-don't-tell obviousness (see: all that marketing for alastor being very aromantic and supported by his narrative in the canon, and it's still not "enough," often simply because many people haven't even heard of ace, never mind aro... i digress, but i think, for relevant reasons), so fizzie being read as demi by people who know

what the heck demi even means

have the ability to engage with an aspec-analysis lens

is probably still the vast vast minority!

all this to say. it's not canon, in the way that, say, his being gay is canon, or blitzø being pan is... more canon (in the sense that the word "pan" may not occur to everyone, but it's more obvious within the queer community and those without may at least land on "bi" and be in the correct ballpark) and moxxie being bisexual is 100% indesputably-stated-out-loud canon

in order for it to be canon, it would have to imo:

either be stated out loud in canon (and even then, we get the word "ace" on hazbin and it's StiLl DiSPuTeD okok im calm...)

fizz would have to have a narrative or speech or some kind of important Beat explicitly dedicated to the fact that he Does Not Feel Sexual Attraction unless he's in love (which... honestly... if that were in connection with some kinda beat in blitzø's narrative about feeling like he's unworthy of love... im just sayin.... + it would lean very neatly into exploring fizzmodeus' being an in-universe very non-normative relationship)

in this case, i do think it's a neat little easter egg, without being pandering or *pat pat on the head,* that is supported by the text, and so yeah. fun. if they backtracked on that and in some way decided fizzarolli has had tons of casual sex that he's enjoyed/pursued... i mean, honestly without the word of god, i'd think that was kinda out of character, which leads me back to "yeah, fun easter egg, only canon insofar as it's not disputed by canon!"

disclaimer over:

this tweet stating the creator said these words, liked by the creator, this was my original reblog of it (although I do note the original poster seems to have taken it down since then)

[hoodoo12]

Doll (1/2)

More Robo Fizz s-m-u-t you thirsty, thirsty people.

NSFW

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jester-junk @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy!`

You didn’t show it to anybody, and you definitely didn’t keep it out for anyone to see if they ever came over to your tiny one room flat, but you had an old Robo Fizz doll. It was a hold over from your imphood, and it had been your favorite toy. A constant companion when you were young, the doll was now ragged and worn; not only was the colorful costume discolored and his face a grimy grey, but Robo Fizz had had multiple repairs in uneven stitching, and his left shoulder cap no longer had a frowning face. You’d rubbed it off with your thumb because you wanted him to always be happy. 

Now his plush limbs were lumpy from where the stuffing had clumped and flaccid in spots where the stuffing had settled elsewhere. Any original texture was threadbare. You didn’t care, you still occasionally cuddled it when sleep didn’t come easily. 

None of the hundreds of Robo Fizz dolls in the window of the souvenir shop looked anything like your old doll. These were all bright and shiny and brand-spankin’ new. 

Jostled repeatedly by a seemingly never ending string of the implings and their either exasperated or also overly excited parents, you finally just went along with the crowd and entered the store.

Inside was a marketing director’s wet dream. If the Robotic Fizzarolli himself had come in and vomited, it would probably look like this place. Robo Fizz merchandise was everywhere, and if it wasn’t his exact likeness, it was the colors that made up his outfit. Everything from breakfast cereal to pencils to kid’s outfits to hats to water filled globes with glitter and a tiny Robo Fizz inside to keychains to posters to . . . there was so much you could barely take it all in. You decided to stick close to the display of dolls. 

They were of varying quality. The smallest were vague and minimalistic in their likeness of the star of the carnival. The larger ones had much better workmanship and one, in a glass display case, purported to be wearing a vintage costume the Robotic Fizzarolli had worn in one of his shows. The dolls that were the same as the one you had loved through your imphood were somewhere in the middle, towards the lower end. 

You picked one up out of the pile. This pristine doll in your hands had pom-poms on his collar that weren’t compacted balls of felt, like yours. You’d forgotten that originally your doll had had metallic fabric edging the costume; this one’s fabric was uncracked and gleamed in the overhead lights. All of his limbs were properly stuffed. It was tempting to buy a new one. You did love your doll, and were still a fan of the Robotic Fizzarolli. But all these shiny, mass produced dolls didn’t have the personality of your well-worn and well-loved Fizzy, and it felt a little like a betrayal to buy another. 

Just as you were setting the doll back on the pile, a impling shoved between you and the display. You stumbled back. The doll flew out of your hands. It landed almost back where it belonged, and you managed to keep your feet under you. No one apologized: not the impling, not his parents who were now also crowding you out as if they hadn’t seen you or, more likely, didn’t care. 

You should’ve put up a fuss but it wasn’t worth it. You wandered away from the large display of toys to look at the other bobbles. Just like the dolls, some had cheap and shoddy quality, while higher end products were better made. Their price tags reflected it.

At the back of the store, near a wall rack of shirts emblazoned with his face, a doorway with a beaded curtain caught your eye. 

You’d been in this gift shop at Loo Loo Land before and had never seen that door. Granted, it was when you were a young imp, and your brain had been overloaded with sugar and the joy of getting your very own Robo Fizz doll. It was partially behind the cashier’s counter, but there was no sign that indicated it wasn’t for the public.

The imp in a smock at the register looked a combination of bored to tears and annoyed at her situation, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking about it. Out of the corner of your eye you watched two imps disappear through the door, and feeling bold, you followed. 

The beaded curtain parted and one strand trailed along your horn as you went into the back room. There was a very short hallway, and a turn to the right into another room, which was why you couldn’t see anything past the initial doorway. 

Inside the room was another plethora of Robo Fizz merchandise. 

However, there were no implings, only adults, and the few customers there, although excited, all seemed to keep their glee subdued. 

Looking to your right, your eyes widened at the wall display of dildos in various shapes and sizes, all their packaging proclaiming they all were authentic Robo Fizz replicas, exactly like the original Robo Fizz’s assortment of phalluses. Past that display was a large selection of bdsm products, including handcuffs that mimicked Robo Fizz’s cuffs, and whips that looked segmented, possibly to look like tentacles? You weren’t exactly sure. 

In front of you were standing racks of clothing again, but these were lingerie, all designed as riffs  his jester’s outfit. A couple was looking through them; one skimpy bra and panty set was held up and they both seemed pleased it was in her size. 

There were piles of lollipops molded like his tongue, tentacles, and again, various cocks. A huge shelf of DVDs all had Robo Fizz on the cover, each touting to provide a different sexual fantasy. 

Along the far wall, there was another large display of dolls. 

Like in the front of the store, you were drawn to them.

Although there was still a wide assortment of size and quality, none were smaller than the one you had at home and all promised a more intimate encounter. The top of the line was a Personal Companion Robo Fizz, which you’d heard about but never had the chance to see one in person. It towered over you, looking vaguely menacing standing so still and lifeless compared to its manically boisterous original. 

“It comes with a free gallon of lube. You can get a subscription to have a gallon shipped to you on a monthly basis,” someone said behind you. “Uh--what?!” 

An employee in a smock like the imp’s out front stepped up beside you. Nodding towards the Personal Companion, she said, “You buy it, it comes with the first gallon of lube. You might need more, if he’s receiving, but even if you use if more for giving, you still need some to make his tongue more pleasant. No one likes getting eaten out by a cold mechanical mouth with zero lube!”

She shuddered dramatically. You weren’t quite sure what to say. Luckily--you guessed--she continued. “He’s top of the line, of course. Everything you’ve heard on the commercial is here. He’s got the BDSM feature, has two tentacles that you can attach so you can be double penetrated and spit-roasted at the same time, has so many speeds and patterns for vibration, and is super easy to clean! There’s a standard set of phrases he can say, but he can also be programmed to call you whatever you’d prefer, like Mistress or sweetie pie, and you can add a few other personal words too. And if you upgrade to the semi-AI package, he learns your preferences and his interactions with you can be even more life-like!”

You blinked up at the Personal Companion, overwhelmed by the enthusiastic sales pitch. Even if you were interested, there was no way you could afford it. Maybe, if they offered rental of him, you could swing half an hour, but more likely only fifteen minutes. 

You thanked her and told her it was out of your price range and made to move away. She grabbed your arm and pulled you down the line of dolls. “I get it. A Personal Companion is expensive. But there are lots of other options!”

The grip she had on your arm was relentless, just like her sales talk. She gave you the specs and features of each type of doll available. They all had different attributes, some only vibrated, some had interchangeable cocks, some were designed for imps who preferred to penetrate. Several of the middle to high end dolls had a ‘sparking’ feature for a more authentic experience. All of them were machine washable. 

Despite yourself, you began to think maybe you did want a new doll. 

You still couldn’t afford something fancy. There was one type that was similar in shape and size to your old Fizzy, but came with a single cock folded up under his costume. It had a bit of a heft to him, and the sales clerk told you it was because of the motor--it didn’t have thrusting gears, but did have three different vibration settings. The price was slightly higher than you expected so you hemmed and hawed, but with the sales clerk smiling encouragingly, you decided to buy it. 

“Excellent! Listen, since you’re a first time customer I’ll throw in a voice chip for you. Free of charge.”

You nodded your thanks, and followed her to the register to ring it up. She made sure the “adult” attributes of the doll were tucked away and the button was off, and it looked like any other innocuous Robo Fizz doll in the gift shop’s bag. She also tucked a tiny bottle of lube into the bag for you too, another free gift. 

She thanked you for your purchase and you went back out into the main room of the shop, clutching your special Loo Loo Land souvenir to your chest. 

tbc . . .

[tk-duveraun]

for the "bad things happen" bingo: Cao Weining/Gu Xiang, body swap.

Sorry @averageace I went with Syn’s request!

Submit requests via askbox

Modern AU

---

Cao Weining was what his cousins called ‘a disgusting morning person.’ They always said it like it was a bad thing, but Auntie greeted him every morning with a smile and a cup of tea before asking him to help cook for everyone. He enjoyed the routine so much that he made sure to attend a university close enough to live at home.

Which was all to say, it wasn’t unusual for him to wake to less than bright light. The quality of light, however, was odd that particular morning. It felt fuzzy and he didn’t think that was just his sleepy brain. His theory was confirmed when he turned his head and saw that the morning sunlight was diffused by lavender curtains.

He didn’t have purple curtains.

He looked down. He didn’t have a purple duvet, either. Or heavy metal posters on his walls. His mouth formed an ‘o’ of shock and quickly mounting horror. He was sure he’d gone to bed alone - a few quick pats reassured him that was still the case - so he couldn’t explain how he’d woken up in A’Xiang’s bed.

(Going to bed alone actually had nothing to do with being in A’Xiang’s bed. But that thought wouldn’t come to him for another few days.)

The bedroom door opened with a rattle of charms and pins hanging from it. None other than Wen Kexing came in. already in dress shirt and slacks. “It’s time for dumb girls to get up.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Weining yelled in his panic. “It’s not what it looks like! I definitely didn’t spend the night here!”

Wen Kexing stared, but it wasn’t the usual stare, the one that promised a swift death, no it was with fond confusion. In the end, he said nothing, just shook his head and left, closing the door behind himself.

Weining breathed a sigh of relief. Wen Kexing must have been in a really good mood. Setting aside dealing with his girlfriend’s protective older brother for later, Weining slipped out of A’Xiang’s bed and started looking for his clothes. He was wearing only a t-shirt he’d gotten for volunteering for a fundraiser support research for children’s leukemia. Actually, he hadn’t seen the shirt in a few months, so it was nice to have found it, though it seemed far too large for some reason. Actually, it went down to mid-thigh. He hoped his aunt would be able to unstretch the fabric. The ways of laundry were still a mystery to him.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of his clothes from the day before. He loved A’Xiang, but her room was a complete mess. While there wasn’t any trash, clothes were draped across most surfaces and the rest were covered with half-finished projects knick-knacks. Weining spotted a stuffed weasel he’d won her at a fair in pride of place over her computer monitor. He smiled at it.

He was knocked out of his musing and back on track when Wen Kexing yelled that he was leaving for work and not to be late.

Which begged the question, if Weining was in A’Xiang’s room, where was A’Xiang? Before he could apply too much thought to the problem, he heard A’Xiang’s ringtone. It was a commercial jingle for a passionfruit fizzy drink. Weining glanced at her mobile and saw that it was his number on the caller id. He blinked and watched it time out, though whomever was using his phone didn’t wait to leave a message before calling again.

He frowned. He didn’t want to answer A’Xiang’s phone, but it was his phone calling her, so maybe it would be okay? He tentatively accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.

“Finally, you big, dumb, idiot, moron!”

The words were A’Xiang, and the cadence, but the voice was definitely not.

“Hello?”

“Stupid! You better not be doing anything funny in my body!”

“Your body?” Weining looked down at himself and realized that, yes, under his t-shirt he indeed had two lumps that were probably breasts.

He promptly fainted.

[gffa]

My question would be do you have a favorite Star Wars related memory? From childhood or adulthood. And have you been/ will you be at Star Wars celebration?

Oh, this is such a great question and I’m going to have the galaxy’s most boring/weird answer for you!  I did my time with the OT as a kid (I LOVED LEIA SO MUCH) and then I did the whirlwind tour with The Phantom Menace once upon a time, but it faded out after about six months, and it wasn’t until The Force Awakens that I came back. And you know what did it? That fucking Darth Darth Binks theory post on reddit. I wasn’t that deep into SW at that point, but someone linked it on tumblr and I went over to read it and my mind just lit up with how cool that was and how the poster really laid out all this amazing evidence and I was so, so convinced that it was at least a possibility.  This was right before TFA came out and I wanted to know so badly if it was going to be touched on in the movie in any way--who was Kylo Ren?  Who was Snoke?  Were either of these Darth Jar Jar??--and it carried me over into watching the movie, having Leia feelings, wanting their lives to be better, but realizing pretty quickly that to fix everything you had to go back to the PT and fix things there. That’s how I fell into Star Wars and I don’t know if it would have happened without that moment of me just absolutely lighting up at the Secret Sith Lord Jar Jar post.  I still remember reading it, that feeling of dawning, “Oh my god!” and that fizzy, excited feeling about something that was really cool to me. So, weirdly enough, that’s probably my favorite Star Wars memory.  (That and the first time I read Wild Space and went, “oh my GOD how is this an actual novel and not a fever dream I had????”  ^_~) I’m not big on conventions, so I don’t really feel like I’m missing out by not doing Celebration, but I do very much enjoy the coverage!  BEST OF BOTH WORLDS FOR ME, I don’t have to be around all those people AND I still get the cool news!  :D

[volume-indigo]

a bad romance

1. I am floating. I move my head beneath the water and watch the surface shake like champagne bubbles. The water is dancing and it is peaceful, a peace I do not wish to be free of. The light that shines down on me illuminates my bathtub makes the bubbles glisten as if I were really bathing in a pool of fizzy golden nectar. I yearn to keep this peace forever, under the water where no one can find me. Where the outside world is indistinguishable from the sounds of my own thoughts. I am alone, and I have never felt more content inside this glimpse of loneliness. My bath smells of roses and chamomile. The aroma sends peace through my body as if God jarred the mixture himself. My heart starts to dance like the champagne bubbles that now break apart as I lift my head out of the water. I am grateful for the rare moments I experience with a blank mind, free of the constant battle my conscious has with itself. As the water loses its warmth and shifts into a temperature too lukewarm for my liking, I remove myself from the tub and wrap myself in one of the green and cream-colored tropical towels I picked out as “his and hers” towels for the doomed relationship that was Doug and Margot. As I wrap myself in the towel, the memory of Doug wrapping me in it and pulling me into his arms feels so real that I immediately rip it off and run naked into my bed. I lay there and let the fan make my body so cold that all I can think about is how uncomfortable I am once goosebumps start to trickle down my body. That technique works for about sixty seconds, and then his face is back in my head again. The thick head of dark hair and almond eyes that gorge into me and give the cutest wide-eyed look that ever existed. It was a look he’d always give me when he must have wanted me to fall even more in love with him than I already was. There is only one way out of this, and that is to think about the man who takes up the second half of my heart. Jimmy is familiar, he is a boyfriend and a brother all in one. No one can make me laugh, smile, or cry like he can. He is the one I have loved since before I finished puberty, he knows me completely and inside and out. He has the power to hit every nerve and ignite every crevice of me. His beauty is his hair, a golden oasis that I wish I could explore for the rest of my life. This is the deepest evil I have ever known, existing amongst two things in the world that I want so badly that it feels like a need and not being able have either one of them. Except for the mere blink in time that I did.

2.

The sun is setting over the grass fields we used to play in once upon a time. Our preteen ghosts wander the endless green and walk right next to each other, hand in hand. Jimmy and I sit against the wall of an old handball court, looking at each other and smiling. Now we’re laughing because we can hear our oldest friends, Annette and Brad enjoying each other’s company right behind the wall that divides us. Jimmy pushes my hair from my face and pulls me in for a kiss. The familiarity of kissing a boy you’ve been kissing since you were thirteen is a comfort neither of us have ever been able to let go of these last eight years. He looks at me now with a remorseful tenderness that I do not recognize in him. He knows that our time together is over. We have completed this part of our journey, and it makes us both want to claw our way back together in cowardly nostalgia. The sense of malaise we both experience without the other’s presence is unbearable, which only pushes us further apart. Jimmy grabs my hand now and laces his fingers between mine. “I love you, Margot, so much,” I spot a tear about ready to break loose from his tear duct. “I just don’t think I’m in love with you anymore,” he looks as if he has just broken his own heart. Even though he has spoken my feelings exactly, this cuts me deep like a knife. My soul feels like it’s bleeding out and drowning us both in a pool of my blood. “I know,” tears that I have been denying myself for months are now erupting from me. “I can’t say that I’m in love with you anymore either, but I love you more than I can possibly explain.” He pulls my head into his shoulder and strokes my hair. Stay calm, sweet girl, I will never leave you, is what he says to me with this action. He really has never broken that promise. Even when we have wanted to kill each other, I have never completely lost him. He is mine forever, my best friend and my soulmate who is no longer meant to be romantic. I break loose from his grasp and look forward. He moves his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in. I am warm, I am content. We watch the sunset together and enjoy the last moments we will ever have as lovers instead of just as friends. He is mine, I am his, forever.

3. “I miss the days when the only man I was in love with was my father,” Annette is moments from deep sleep right next to me, and this causes her to giggle right out of it. It is a part of our annual tradition that we have a sleepover the night before she goes back to Missouri. This goodbye will not be so bad because this will be her last miserable year in the state she hates. She will return to me, the sunshine, and palm trees right here in California in only a few months. Annette is my best friend, my sister, my most trusted confidante. I can communicate to Annette with a breath, a stare, a simple phrase; when we are together, we are one. “You’re ridiculous, Margot,” her fake irritation always charms me, makes me believe I’m funny. “Now let me sleep, I have a 25-hour drive in the morning,” she drifts back into almost sleep, but I am wide awake. I hold onto these last moments with her because I am terrified for the ones that come after. She is my only real friend, the only one that actually cares whether I live or die, whether I’m happy or sad. She’s the only friend who hasn’t betrayed my pathetically gullible trust. “I love you, Annette,” I whisper to her sleeping subconscious, as if this fact isn’t as clear as day to her. If I’m being honest, even one more year without her will be a hard one to get through. She will abandon me to my own devices, and secretly, I wish I was the one that had to go to school in Missouri to play soccer. In Missouri, I wouldn’t be haunted by the ghosts of old boyfriends, I wouldn’t be crippled by the pain of the past that looks me in the eye every single day I pass by my high school. I could be someone different entirely. That is what I have always wanted: to be someone else entirely.

4. I have a funny obsession with mirrors. I write about them, I dream about them, I stare at myself in them incessantly in hopes that I will someday find myself beautiful. Many people awe over my beauty, compliment my luminous skin, ask me where I get my hair done, and how I stay in such good shape. I do not see what they see. I see the lumpy prepubescent girl I once was. I can almost see the frumpy, Pillsbury dough poster child that once looked back at me through the façade of the pretty girl that looks across from me now. I can still hear ��you’re a fat, worthless piece of shit, Margot,” coming from my seventh-grade bully’s mouth at each moment I allow myself to feel pretty. I sit and stare at myself in my ceiling-to-floor length mirror and examine what’s looking back at me. I am the picturesque symbol of a self-hating narcissist, a term I have just coined in this very moment. I see all the beauty and all of the ugly in myself all in one blink of an eye. The image of me is as if Janis Ian and Rachel Green were walking nervously along the same tight rope where the center is a deadly pit of fire. I crawl back into my bed covers and shut my eyes. I see myself as I want to be. I am laying in a field of bright red roses, the sun filling me with warmth under the shade of a eucalyptus tree. My mind has taken me to my Eden. I lay here for a while and dream of a different life, a life in rose fields that go on forever. I wish to stay here eternally, even if it isn’t real. I do not wish to leave this paradise, the only place that has ever truly felt like home. I wish to stay blissfully alone in another realm of reality.

[bellabooks]

How to plan an epic “Carmilla Movie” viewing party

Dear beloved reader,   You have been cordially invited to a Carmilla Movie viewing party because you * are a light averse octogenarian with extreme hemoglobin deficiency and really good skin * eat your Chokoa Crunch with type AB negative soy milk * are partial to broody Byronic hero types, or * all of the above. Festivities will commence on October 26th at which time party-goers are expected to eat, drink, and be gay. Suuuuper gay. If you are so inclined to accept this challenge, we have created a list of ideas below that will ensure your Carmilla Movie release party is as successful as using “quixotry” in scrabble. Buckle up, Creampuffs. We’re in for a fun night.   Décor and Ambience The past three seasons of Carmilla have given us three distinct settings rife with Carmilla-themed party inspiration. Combine this with a movie trailer that features a setting just as distinct and complex and you get a wide range of décor ideas certain to delight any Summer, Zeta, or vampire you invite to the party. * Invitations – Before the party even begins, we recommend inviting your friends with an invitation written in calligraphy on antiqued stationery and sealed with red stationery wax. If, however, snail mail won’t do, then send your friends an e-vite of multiple choice reasons for why they should attend your party. * Music – Create a playlist filled with members from the Silas glee club for your guests to listen to while they wait for the movie to begin. And don’t forget to include that theme song we all know and love. * Candles – In general, candles are a perfect way to create ambience regardless of the occasion. But if perhaps you need to raise that ambience to the level of broody gothic princess, we suggest three ideas. First, get white and red candles. Burn the red candles until the wax is melted. Pour the red wax over the top of the white candle to create the appearance of blood dripping down from its edges. Second, find some empty glass bottles or wine bottles (use Erlenmeyer flasks for a LaFontaine theme) and place candle sticks into the opening. When they are lighted, the wax will drip down the bottle making a very gothic (or 90’s grunge depending on your age) effect. Last, and perhaps easiest, find some clear tea light votives and either white or black lace or doilies. Cut the lace or doilies to size and wrap them around the votives using clear tape as adhesive. Place the tea lights inside the votives and light them for an effect even an angler fish would be envious of. Source: thecaldwellproject.com * Feather in vases – This one is pretty explanatory. Grab that flower vase that sits on the counter collecting dust and fill it with large feathers with volumous plumes. If the muse of Martha Stewart is particularly strong within you, then fill a floor vase with gnarly twigs that are sure to cast creepy shadows on the wall once all your candles are lighted. * Garlic wreath – If you intend to keep the vampires at bay, or if you just want to give your guests a giggle, purchase a grapevine wreath frame from your local craft store, dig out your hot glue gun, and fill a grocery bag with bulbs of garlic from your local grocer.   Glue the bulbs to the wreath and hang it on your wall or door. Source: thegreenhead.com * Centerpieces – Seeing as how the Carmilla Movie is set in what looks like the early 19th century and Season 3 took place in a library, a center piece of old books, especially those written by the Brontes, would serve as the perfect base for a coffee table or dinning table centerpiece. Stack the books one on top of the other, and cover the corners with the cobweb fluff stuff that can be found in any Halloween aisle of any store. On top of the stack place a Masquerade mask – you can make one of these by covering a generic plastic or fabric mask with glitter, stick-on gems, and feathers. If the mask idea is too intense, then substitute it for a pair of plastic Harry Potter glasses with a cracked lenses. Just try using them to read the writing on the wall.   Party Snacks We enjoy a beef jerky casserole as much as the next Creampuff, but if your tastes are for something a little less vending machine gourmet, then allow us to suggest these tasty treats.   * Creampuffs – Obviously. But if your town doesn’t have a bakery or patisserie that bakes and sells this confection, then follow the directions for this quick and easy recipe and get your Mary Berry on. * Vampire-bitten Cupcakes – Make like a sentient campus library and apparate a cupcake with vanilla icing. Use something small and pointy, like the tip of a knife or a Q-tip and poke two shallow, fang-sized holes in the icing. Paint the holes with red food coloring or red gel icing. Source: pinterest.com * Black Cat Cookies – This recipe is a purrrfect addition to the party. * Roasted garlic – Roasted garlic has many applications, so we are including in our list for those who want savory options to go along with the sweet. The best way to roast garlic, after shelling it of course, is to toss it in some EVOO, spread the cloves over a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper, and cook at 400 degrees. The garlic is roasted when its edges are golden brown. Roasted garlic is soft enough to be spread straight onto bread or mixed into hummus, among other things. Eating it will also ensure you are as unappealing to a vampire as Laura wearing a batwing bracelet. * Cerebrospinal fluid – Otherwise known as cheesy dip. Get some Velveeta, cut it into slices, and melt it in a pot with some milk or cream. Stir constantly. Kick it up a notch by adding either a handful of shredded cheddar, or beer, or both (we prefer using an amber ale if possible). Serve your cerebrospinal fluid with soft pretzels or tortilla chips and try not to be drawn towards the large glowing light in the backyard.   Drinks Don’t forget to try these drinks to wash down the tears . . . er . . . the snacks.   * Champagne – Obviously. Really any will do, but if you are unfamiliar with champagne terminology, use this website as a guide. If you prefer something slightly sweeter than champagne, then give Prosseco a try – it’s delicious. * Fizzy Dagon – This Silas University party favorite is made by mixing Dagon Lager (yes, this is actually a thing) with Sambuca. Try it at your own risk. * Grape soda – for the designated drivers at the party or those not yet 21, offer this Laura Hollis favorite. * Blood Orange Juice and a splash of seltzer. Another option for those looking for an alcohol free drink. The next few drinks were suggested courtesy of Audrey Coulthurst (@audwrites) and Paula Garner (@paulajgarner). * Vampire Slayer – Mix up your favorite version of a Bloody Mary. Paula suggests you then add minced garlic or garlic salt to create a drink fit for any Summer. * Boulevardier 12 – The recipe for this drink can be found here. Audrey recommends exchanging the Pernod for Absinthe. Do this, and you can change the name of the drink to something worthy of a Paris vacation.  Might I suggest “Tainted Love”. * I Loved You at Your Darkest – speaking of love, how perfect is the name of this drink?  Take it from me, any drink made with Bookers is bound to be amazing. Recipe found here.   If for whatever reason Bob the Giant or Mr. Hollis are unavailable to transport tipsy party-goers home, then please ensure that, as the host of your party, everyone attending has either a safe way to get home or accommodations for the night. We hope you enjoyed our suggestions, and if you have any Carmilla Movie viewing party ideas of your own, please comment below – perhaps someone could make Carmilla bingo boards and share them with the rest of class prior to the film’s release. And, for posterity’s sake, we greatly encourage our readers and fellow Creampuffs to share pictures of your party with us.   Pat yourself on the back, Creampuffs. We made a movie! http://dlvr.it/Ps7tHp

[movietvtechgeeks]

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Brad Pitt's amazing national parks images hit plus American Idol

Now that some time has passed since news broke of his impending divorce, actor Brad Pitt is finally opening up about his sudden split from long-time partner Angelina Jolie. As you may remember, people all around the world were left in a state of shock when it was officially announced that Angelina had filed for divorce from Brad. Subsequently, it was revealed that Angelina’s filing was partially prompted by an incident that happened while the Jolie-Pitt family was on an airplane, in which Brad had reportedly gotten physical with their adopted son Maddox. For the latest issue of GQ Style, Brad posed for three different covers, which feature him in various National Parks across America. In addition to the covers, Brad also got surprisingly candid with the publication - particularly about his recent relationship troubles and his decision to quit drinking. Looking back at the time of Angelina’s divorce filing, Brad recounted to GQ, “I was really on my back and chained to a system when Child Services was called. After that, we’ve been able to work together to sort this out. We’re both doing our best. I heard one lawyer say, ‘No one wins in court – it’s just a matter of who gets hurt worse.’ And it seems to be true. You spend a year just focused on building a case to prove your point and why you’re right and why they’re wrong, and it’s just an investment in vitriolic hatred. I just refuse. And fortunately, my partner in this agrees. It’s just very, very jarring for the kids, to suddenly have their family ripped apart.” It has been roughly 8 months since Angelina and Brad officially announced their split and since then Brad has made some major changes in his life. The Benjamin Button actor revealed to the publication that he moved out of his former Hollywood Hills mansion, as it was “too sad” for him to be living there on his own. In discussing his decision to get sober, Brad confessed, “"I can't remember a day since I got out of college when I wasn't boozing or had a spliff, or something. Something. And you realize that a lot of it is, um — cigarettes, you know, pacifiers. And I'm running from feelings. I'm really, really happy to be done with all of that. I mean I stopped everything except boozing when I started my family. But even this last year, you know—things I wasn't dealing with. I was boozing too much. It's just become a problem. And I'm really happy it's been half a year now, which is bittersweet, but I've got my feelings in my fingertips again. I think that's part of the human challenge: You either deny them all of your life or you answer them and evolve." Below is an excerpt from the indepth interview with Brad Pitt.

Let's go back to the start. What was it like growing up where you grew up? Brad Pitt: Well, it was Springfield, Missouri, which is a big place now, but we grew up surrounded by cornfields—which is weird because we always had canned vegetables. I never could figure that one out! Anyway, ten minutes outside of town, you start getting into forests and rivers and the Ozark Mountains. Stunning country.

Did you have a Huck Finn boyhood? Half the time. Half the time, yeah.

How so? I grew up in caves. We had a lot of caves, fantastic caverns. And we grew up First Baptist, which is the cleaner, stricter, by-the-book Christianity. Then, when I was in high school, my folks jumped to a more charismatic movement, which got into speaking in tongues and raising your hands and some goofy-ass shit.

So were you there for speaking in tongues? Yeah, come on. I'm not even an actor yet, but I know… I mean the people, I know they believe it. I know they're releasing something. God, we're complicated. We're complicated creatures.

So acting came out of what you saw in these revival meetings? Well, people act out. But as a kid, I was certainly drawn to stories—beyond the stories that we were living and knew, stories with different points of view. And I found those stories in film, especially. Different cultures and lives so foreign to mine. I think that was one of the draws that propelled me into film. I didn't know how to articulate stories. I'm certainly not a good orator, sitting here telling a story, but I could foster them in film.

I remember going to a few concerts, even though we were told rock shows are the Devil, basically. Our parents let us go; they weren't neo about it. But I realized that the reverie and the joy and exuberance, even the aggression, I was feeling at the rock show was the same thing at the revival. One is Jimmy Swaggart and one is Jerry Lee Lewis, you know? One's God and one's Devil. But it's the same thing. It felt like we were being manipulated. What was clear to me was “You don't know what you're talking about—”

And it didn't fuck you up? No, it didn't fuck me up—it just led to some eating questions at a young age.

Have you ever felt the need to be more political? I can help in other ways. I can help by getting movies out with certain messages. I've got to be moved by something—I can't fake it. I grew up with that Ozarkian mistrust of politics to begin with, so I just do better building a house for someone in New Orleans or getting certain movies to the screen that might not get made otherwise.

You're good at playing that kind of character, the one that doesn't have a truly accurate vision of himself. It makes me laugh. Any of my foibles are born from my own hubris. Always, always. Anytime. I famously step in shit—at least for me it seems pretty epic. I often wind up with a smelly foot in my mouth. I often say the wrong thing, often in the wrong place and time. Often. In my own private Idaho, it's funny as shit. I don't have that gift. I'm better speaking in some other art form. I'm trying to get better. I'm really trying to get better.

And the movie really pokes at this, too, right—America's hubris? When I get in trouble it's because of my hubris. When America gets in trouble it's because of our hubris. We think we know better, and this idea of American exceptionalism—I think we're exceptional in many ways, I do, but we can't force it on others. We shouldn't think we can. How do we show American exceptionalism? By example. It's the same as being a good father. By exemplifying our tenets and our beliefs, freedom and choice and not closing borders and being protectionists. But that's another issue. You want me to tell you something really sad? I thought this was so sad. We were looking at—let me say, a certain war film that was looking to promote itself. The European posters had the American flag in the background, and it came back from the marketing department: “Remove the flag. It's not a good sell here.” I was, like, Man, that's America. That's what we've done to our brand.

You've played characters in pain. What is pain, emotional and physical? Yeah, I'm kind of done playing those. I think it was more pain tourism. It was still an avoidance in some way. I've never heard anyone laugh bigger than an African mother who's lost nine family members. What is that? I just got R&B for the first time. R&B comes from great pain, but it's a celebration. To me, it's embracing what's left. It's that African woman being able to laugh much more boisterously than I've ever been able to.

Do you think if the past six months hadn't happened you'd be in this place eventually? That it would have caught up with you? I think it would have come knocking, no matter what.

People call it a midlife crisis, but this isn't the same— No, this isn't that. I interpret a midlife crisis as a fear of growing old and fear of dying, you know, going out and buying a Lamborghini. [pause] Actually—they've been looking pretty good to me lately! [laughs]

There might be a few Lamborghinis in your future! “I do have a Ford GT,” he says quietly. [laughs] I do remember a few spots along the road where I've become absolutely tired of myself. And this is a big one. These moments have always been a huge generator for change. And I'm quite grateful for it. But me, personally, I can't remember a day since I got out of college when I wasn't boozing or had a spliff, or something. Something. And you realize that a lot of it is, um—cigarettes, you know, pacifiers. And I'm running from feelings. I'm really, really happy to be done with all of that. I mean I stopped everything except boozing when I started my family. But even this last year, you know—things I wasn't dealing with. I was boozing too much. It's just become a problem. And I'm really happy it's been half a year now, which is bittersweet, but I've got my feelings in my fingertips again. I think that's part of the human challenge: You either deny them all of your life or you answer them and evolve.

Was it hard to stop smoking pot? No. Back in my stoner days, I wanted to smoke a joint with Jack and Snoop and Willie. You know, when you're a stoner, you get these really stupid ideas. Well, I don't want to indict the others, but I haven't made it to Willie yet.

I'm sure he's out there on a bus somewhere waiting for you. How about alcohol—you don't miss it? I mean, we have a winery. I enjoy wine very, very much, but I just ran it to the ground. I had to step away for a minute. And truthfully I could drink a Russian under the table with his own vodka. I was a professional. I was good.

So how do you just drop it like that? Don't want to live that way anymore.

What do you replace it with? Cranberry juice and fizzy water. I've got the cleanest urinary tract in all of L.A., I guarantee you! But the terrible thing is I tend to run things into the ground. That's why I've got to make something so calamitous. I've got to run it off a cliff.

Do you think that's a thing? I do it with everything, yeah. I exhaust it, and then I walk away. I've always looked at things in seasons, compartmentalized them, I guess, seasons or semesters or tenures or…

Really? So, this is the season of me getting my drink on.… [laughs] Yeah, it's that stupid. “This is my Sid and Nancy season.” I remember that one when I first got out to L.A. It got titled afterwards.

So then, you stop yourself, but how do you—I don't know why this comes to mind but I think of a house—how do you renovate yourself? Yeah, you start by removing all the decor and decorations, I think. You get down to the structure. Wow, we are in some big metaphor here now.… [laughs]

If you can believe it…American Idol might be returning to your television screen sooner rather than later. The show, after 15 seasons, came to an end back in 2016. While it was initially believed that the reality singing competition had run its course and was permanently going off the air, it now appears as though it will be returning after just a brief hiatus. According to media outlet TMZ, TV networks FOX, NBC and ABC are all in talks to host a reboot of the show. The outlet also revealed that ABC is very serious about winning the rights to the show, as they are hoping to debut a brand new season early next year (2018). Earlier this week, ABC TV personality Kelly Ripa announced that former American Idol host Ryan Seacrest would be joining as her co-host on her daily morning show Live with Kelly. This makes ABC’s interest in taking over American Idol even more interesting, as they now have Ryan Seacrest on-hand to potentially return to his AI hosting gig. Although American Idol’s viewership ratings dropped drastically during the last few seasons, it looks as though TV executives are not ready to completely give up on the show just yet.

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