#no it's prearranged

[thoughts-reasons]

Blue hydrangea cold cash divine

[leaveharmony]

[what-the-stark]

'Ello friends! Putting up a lil starter call since I don't think I've literally ever done that lol, and I have some new folks in the house (as well as older moots I've never had a chance to write with). Boop the heart if you'd like in, if you're a multi drop the preferred muse in the comments or you get random!Tony action❤️

[postcard-from-the-past]

Date prearranged by matchmakers in Japan

Japanese vintage postcard

[brennacedria]

Hahahahaha Brian always says that when I get my bonus (not yet, but hopefully soon) it's my money, not our money, and to spend most of it as I please. I'm already getting two arts this month that I intended to come from my bonus but Brian's like "no, those are gifts and are technically coming from OUR money. What are you going to spend YOUR money on?"

So now I'm like.... Third art?

[joriksmain]

Do you cruise in airport bathrooms?

I’ve dabbled (:

[nghiazet]

WEEK 4: REALITY TV

WHAT IS REALITY TV?

Reality TV, often known as reality television, is a category of TV shows that showcases unscripted and sometimes impromptu settings, events, or conversations with actual people instead of trained actors. The genre often presents average folks in diverse scenarios, such as contests, challenges, or everyday routines, enabling viewers to see their conduct and responses.

Why is reality TV so popular?

The prevalence of reality TV may be ascribed to many variables. Mainly, it offers a kind of amusement that is readily applicable to a wide audience, since it often showcases regular individuals encountering familiar circumstances. Viewers might get pleasure from seeing the successes, disagreements, and personal growth of persons who share similar experiences. This could be seen within the sensitivity theory.

The sensitivity hypothesis posits that individuals selectively attend to stimuli that are pertinent to the fulfillment of their fundamental motivations, while disregarding inputs that are inconsequential to these motivations. An someone driven by a profound inclination for social interaction actively seeks occasions to engage with others, whereas someone without a strong inclination for social contact may be unaware of social gatherings taking place, such as a weekend party. An individual with a pronounced inclination towards cleanliness (which is categorized as one of the fundamental demands for order) is likely to see the presence of cigarette ashes on a tray, while an individual with a limited inclination towards order may not even perceive the presence of unwashed dishes in the sink. By identifying the core goals of human existence, we may establish a connection between these motives and the urge to engage with different media experiences. This may provide a deeper understanding of the reasons why particular genres of television programming, such as reality TV, are attractive to a large number of individuals (Reiss, S., & Wiltz, J., 2004)

Is reality TV authentic or prearranged?

The veracity of reality TV, whether it is authentic or prearranged, exists on a continuum. Although the name "reality" implies an unscripted and genuine depiction of events, several reality programs use various degrees of writing, editing, and manipulation to enhance the dramatic impact. Producers often exert control or influence over the performers, and sequences may be altered to augment storytelling or construct a more captivating narrative. The fusion of truth and fiction has sparked discussions over the genuineness of the genre.

Reference: Reiss, S., & Wiltz, J. (2004). Why People Watch Reality TV. Media Psychology, 6(4), 363-378. https://doi.org/10.1207/s1532785xmep0604_3

[intertexts-moving]

canton noodles r a audhd things best friend.....

[sun-3-160]

see i dont find movies like hostel scary because i would literally never be in that situation. i would never take random drinks/drugs from strangers and i would never stay in some random sketchy hostel in the middle of nowhere europe

[pwrn51]

The importance of prearrangements

  Today’s guest is Randi Goldstein- Casey, Owner, Vice President/ Funeral Director of Goldsteins’, Rosenberg’s Raphael-Sacks, Inc. Funeral  Home is located in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Bucks County, PA, and South New Jersey. Randi served as a Bereavement Facilitator, is the 3rd generation Funeral  Director and is very active in her Jewish and local suburban communities. Randi discussed with…

[theshortmuffin07]

perfection 🫶🏽

don't say yes, run away now

word count: 1.2k

summary: wedding crashing and eloping with your best friend. yep. sounds about right.

You don't know what you're doing here.

You sit in the front row of the wedding venue, speaking with the guests, head spinning and a little worried. You don't like what you were tasked with doing. Tim could have asked literally anyone else, but you suppose this is the universe's way to body slam you into unrequited love even harder than it had before. You spot a couple of his siblings and fiddle with your fingers as they wave at you. You don't know if they know that you're crashing their brother's wedding. God. Would you get called a homewrecker by the media? What a nightmare. You don't even want to think about it.

Maybe Tim would take care of it for you. You know. Like he used to.

The cryptic message relayed to you from Oracle was a little. What was it? Scary? You're a vigilante, not a wedding crasher or homewrecker. You wonder if you should make a big fuss about it. Well, Tim did say he would take care of whatever backlash you would get. Maybe you should get Jason to... he should play Speak Now. You think. You should at least have a little fun with crashing your best friend's wedding. Tim would be amused. You're sure his future in-laws would not.

"Jason," You pull on his sleeve, the man tilting his head at you. "Are you on piano?"

"Yeah."

"Can you play something for me when I stand up?"

"Stand... are you crashing the wedding?"

"Red Robin." You mumble. "Oracle. News. I don't know. I think Tim wants me to."

"Oh, then you'd be doing all of us a favor. Luther's a nightmare all of us have. His daughter would get mad, though."

"Yeah. I thought I'd crash the wedding as dramatically as possible." You mumble. "Vigilante outfit and everything."

"What."

"I'm crashing. My suit is under my clothes right now."

"Oh. I'm invested. What song, pray tell."

"The.. the Taylor Swift one."

"The chorus?"

"Yeah."

"I gotcha." He grins at you. "Tim will handle everything else. We promise."

"His publicist is going to kill me, though."

"I know." Jason lowers his voice. "You and me both."

You leave halfway through the walk-in, pressing your mask to your face and leaning on the doorframe once the bride and groom step onto the podium.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace." The priest calls.

You glance at Jason as he eases into the song almost too naturally, and you clear your throat, all eyes turning on you. You catch Tim's amused expression, and you hear Dick laugh in the front with the rest of the batboys, all while raising a brow at the bride in amusement. You didn't think it'd come to this, but you suppose it's your specialty.

"I am not the kind of friend, who should be rudely barging on a white veil occasion." You fight the laugh that's about to break into your voice as you continue. "But you, are not the kind of boy, who should be marrying the wrong girl."

Tim laughs at the podium, tugging his hands away from his fiancée as he tilts his head at you.

"So don't say yes, let's run away now!" The laugh breaks past your lips as Tim runs toward you, grabbing your wrist and making a run for it through the giant church doors. You hear his family cheer in the background as their voices fade, and Tim pulls the car keys from his suit pocket, pressing the gas as he leaves his bride alone in the hall. You laugh as you hold onto your seat.

"Thank you. That was very in character of you."

"You know," You pick the mask off your face, a grin on your face. "You owe me for this."

"And what might I owe you?"

"A favor, maybe." You shrug. "You have the clothes?"

"Backseat."

You peel the suit off, reaching for the hoodie as he continues on the road.

"Am I going to get in trouble with your publicist?"

"I'll deal with it." He hums. "Anything else you need me to do?"

"I don't know..." You shrug.

"You know, we should get married in a courtroom on the way."

"Oh my god, are we eloping?" You feign a gasp.

"Is that what you want this to be?"

"Only if you want it to be." You grin.

"Alright. Let's hit the courthouse."

You hold onto the handrest as he swerves, a couple of cars honking as he speeds again.

"I never thought Bruce Wayne's middle child, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, would elope, but here we are."

"Oracle's calling." He hums, pressing his earpiece. "Yeah?"

"Where are you two?"

"Eloping." Tim grins. "Is Bruce going insane?"

"He currently owes the boys a couple thousand dollars."

"They bet on this?!"

"Jason wins. He bet that you'd crash it with a Taylor Swift song."

You purse your lips in amusement.

"Well," Tim hums. "We're headed to the courthouse to elope right now."

"Alright. Be home for dinner."

"We're going on a road trip too!"

"For your honeymoon?"

"Sure." Tim pauses at the red light, handing you a marriage contract. "Fill that out while I drive."

"You have your passport?"

"I have my licenses. Do you have yours?"

"Yeah."

"There we go."

You scribble down the information for the two of you as he drives around Gotham, and you grumble as you finish at the courthouse.

"Done?"

"Scan it over."

You lead him into the courthouse, hoodie and shorts on, handing the paper and IDs to the worker.

"Eloping?"

"Yeah." Tim hums, fixing the cap on his head. "Make it quick."

"Not human trafficking, right?"

"Nope!" You grin. "Completely consensual."

The marriage is quick, the witnesses and court officiant signing the paper for the two of you, and Tim snaps a photo, sending it to the family chat as the two of you get back in the car.

"We look terrible." You laugh at the wedding photo. Tim's in a white suit, and you're in a hoodie and shorts.

"We can prepare an actual ceremony when we come back."

"Tim?"

"Hm?" He turns to look at you.

"Are you doing this because you want to avoid the marriage? Or are you doing this because you actually like me?" You pull on the strings of the hoodie.

"Both." He hums. "Why'd you think I told you to crash my wedding and not one of my brothers? I'm sure Damian would have been more than willing to ruin the marriage."

"I don't know," You shrug. "I figured you didn't ask them because it'd be suspicious for family to crash your wedding."

"I asked you because I planned for the two of us to elope. Your feelings are not slick."

"Yeah, I figured." You reach behind you for a can of cola. "Want one?"

"You're way too relaxed for someone who was panicking earlier."

"It's called speedrunning the five stages of grief. Do you want the cola or not?"

"Yes please."

"Do you want to stop anywhere before we hit the freeway?"

"Where's the first stop?"

"Two hundred miles."

"We can stop at a gas station along the way." You mumble. "Now drive, my newly wedded husband."

"Anything for you."

[the-k-meme-dream-team]

Coming Home by NCT U is such a beautiful song. I think it'd make a really nice funeral video song but I can't say anything about it to my mom because it's against my safety planning. I just think the lyrics really suit a going home ceremony.

[capellasource]

im fucking SO pissed off bc theres a premiere event at my workplace for tlou which i could have been at FOR FREE but im too busy being disabled that day

[genes-tierney]

Oh, for Pete's sake, Virginia, cut out the nonsense. This is a prearranged date and we all know it. I've got to get back on duty by 11:00, so come on, let's shake our tootsies.

OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND as AMY LIND in THE STRAWBERRY BLONDE (1941) dir. Raoul Walsh

[queenimmadolla]

Could you do a blurb where reader rolls a joint for Eddie for the first time with all her cute papers and stuff and he loves it?

Happy Stoner Christmas!

happy 4/20! 😶‍🌫️💚

“Well, if it isn’t for my favorite customer.”

  You hear him before you see him, and sit up straighter as you look up, torso twisting around to face Eddie.

  He’s walking through the tree line that acts as the ‘fence’ to your backyard. Not exactly born into wealth, your home is on the edge of Hawkins and lacks the white picket fence and concrete driveway, with nature and gravel filling in. Just down the street is Jonathan Byers’ home. 

  Confidence radiates off of Eddie as he approaches the picnic bench you were waiting on, his curls sway a little. He’s rocking a band shirt today—long sleeves rolled up his forearms—and some dark jeans. You try not to squirm under his stare, the wild grin on his face stirring something in your tummy.

  You knew you’d end up crushing on him after the first time you went to him for weed instead of Rick. He was cute. 

  Eddie was so freaking cute and charming and funny. You probably would have been fine if he had just been cute and charming, but the humorous trait was your weakness. You loved funny guys.

  Sure enough, by the fourth time he dealt to you—his tongue was in your mouth. And the fifth time, you’d gone to third base. Now, whatever happened when he came around just happened. You accepted it, even if it makes you a little nervous because you know very well you’re interested in more than just the benefits that come with your encounters. 

  You want him. Like, boyfriend him. It’s kind of tragic, actually, because you don’t even know if you’re the only one of his clientele he treats this way. Eddie can be fucking the rest of them for all you know and it drives you insane because you want to ask—you’re just too chicken shit.

  “You say that as if this wasn’t prearranged.” You laugh out and Eddie snorts, dumping his black lunch pail on the leaf riddled bench top next to your scooby-doo lunch box with a metal clang.

  “I’m trying to be cute and you’re ruining it.” When you laugh again, Eddie’s eyes squint in triumph, “And I’ll have you know I have been waiting—no, yearning for you to call upon me. Moved my bed over to the phone and everything. Thought you forgot allllllll about me.”

  “Me forget about you? Impossible.” You declare in a joking manner, though you truly mean the sentiment. Your mental health might be better if you could forget him. Then you wouldn’t be able to make yourself sick over the idea of him kissing other people.

  “You better mean that.” He jabs an accusatory finger, silver ring glinting, in your direction as he settles in across from you, “The usual, my sweet?”

  UGH! SEE?! Too damn cute.

  “Please?” You’re too busy opening up your own lunch box full of supplies to notice the heated look he fixes you with right then.

  Eddie clears his throat, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip as he pops the lid of his lunch pail open, pulling out a little baggie with your favorite strain of buds. He eyes it with a glint in his eye before it’s held out to you, dangling from his fingertips. 

  You look up once you realize it’s being offered, and pinch the top of the baggie as your other hand holds out the folded bills. Eddie flicks them out of your loose grip, and it goes flying to land in your lap while you jump in surprise.

  “My bad,” he snickers, his pretty teeth gleaming, “it’s on the house.”

  You pick up exactly where he wants you to, “In that case, please accept my offer to smoke you out with my newly acquired goods.”

  That feeling in your belly—butterflies—intensifies at the slow and large smile that spreads on his face, forcing his little dimple to make an appearance.

  It always goes like this now. 

  Eddie comes over (or you go to him), weed is exchanged and when you try to pay him for it, he refuses. Then, you invite him to smoke weed with you (and he’ll always pull from the extra inventory he carries around—never from what he’s just given you), the two of you get high and you finally feel brave enough to make a move because you know he always waits for you to do it. Gives you the power to start things, your own comfort, though he takes full control once you get going. He’s always so keen on taking care of you. You’d once thought that maybe he didn’t want you as much as you wanted him, since it was always you initiating things, but the way he’d beg for you, ramble about how much he wanted you, how desperate he was for you and his ‘finally, I thought I was gonna die’s on just your kisses alone, soothed that insecurity. 

  “I’d be delighted to! But─”

  “Nope.” You interrupt, having seen his hand reaching into his pail. “My weed—not yours.”

  He raises his eyebrows in surprise and when you don’t back down, both of his hands are lifted in surrender before one is extended to you out on the bench, palm up. Eddie’s waiting for you to give him your grinder and the weed so he can start rolling but you low five his palm instead and he chuckles, skin tingling from the contact.

  “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

  “I know, but I’m also rolling today, too.”

  Eddie scoffs and smirks, fixing you with that heated stare again and you quickly divert your gaze, pulling out your pretty purple grinder and getting to work. You are not gonna let him make you nervous and fumble around, “Baby…”

  Oh, god. The way he coos it out, nice and low—you’re instantly taken back to other times you’d heard him say it like that. You’d been bent into all kinds of positions as it was rasped into your ear, the sweat from both of your bodies plastering Eddie to you. Your hand twists the top of the grinder on autopilot as you stare at nothing, gaze vacant.

  Eddie knows exactly where your mind has taken you and his smirk widens.

  “You can’t roll for shit.”

  That snaps you out of your stupor, mouth dropping.

  “I can, too! You’ve never seen me put in the work.”

  “I have, that’s why I roll.”

  And you cringe as you recall the first time you’d try to roll a joint. It had been the second time Eddie sold to you, having only used pre-rolled cones prior. Those only meant you had to pack the wrap in with weed, kind of like a funnel and then twist the end closed before partaking.

  Rolling from start to finish was a whole other endeavor and you’d failed so badly, Eddie had rolled around on the floor laughing. You didn’t take any offense, too busy jumping up and down inside at having made the cute, charming funny guy you liked laugh.

  “I’ve been practicing,” You pout, placing the grinder down after you’re sure the nug of the bud you’d placed in it was now almost powder-like.

  “You tryna impress me, hm?” He hums out, and you refuse to look up, knowing those pretty brown eyes of his are gonna be lidded and it’ll do you in early. You’ll have to jump him right there, “Been practicing to show me what you can do?”

  You ignore him, focusing instead on the rolling papers you had. 

  Eddie places his chin in his hand, watching you intently as you frown in concentration before it breaks when you select a rolling paper, cherries decorating the white sheets. You pull your small rolling tray out and some part of Eddie throbs. You hadn’t had that before.

  You quickly scrunch a filter together, folding the rolling paper and placing the filter at the edge of the fold before you unscrew the grinder and begin pinching the green within to sprinkle on the paper. Once it was full, and Eddie notices with wide eyes that you’ve packed it with a significant amount, you use dexterous fingers to carefully roll it together, tongue poking out as you take diligent care to ensure no fall out. Once the green flower is properly contained, you lick the free edge and fold it over the rest of the joint before you pinch and twist the end.

  After a few moments of intense scrutiny, you hold it out victoriously, “Taduh!!! For you.”

  Eddie takes the joint, turning it this way and that as he marvels. You really had been practicing, it was beautiful. He feels an intense amount of pride bloom in his chest and something else. Always for you, only ever for you.

  “Did I do good?” You ask, voice shy as you bite your lip and this time you don’t look away when that heavy stare focuses on you. You wanna faint, but you don’t. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you know where tonight is gonna lead. 

  “Baby,” There’s that rasp again that makes you want to drop dead and smash your mouth to his at the same time, “I’m gonna need you to come over here now. Don’t think I can wait.”