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isaadore · 3 months

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say my name | quinn hughes

pairing quinn hughes x reader

SUMMARY after quinn suffers a severe concussion, he loses his memory of the past year, which includes you. wc 1.9k

genre heavy angst, comfort, and fluff

note i’m back 😭 it’s been so long. anyways, i'm planning to write a second part focusing on quinn's recovery and how the relationship with him grows, so let me know how you guys like this!

masterlist | qh43 masterlist

Hockey players are frequently injured, and you know that. Given that hockey is such a physically demanding and aggressive sport, especially at the NHL level, injuries are almost inevitable. You were always grateful Quinn had never been seriously injured.

Until he was.

The arena buzzed with excitement as the Canucks' first game of the season was underway. You sat with Ellen and Jim Hughes in the family section, watching the players take the ice for pre-game warmups.

"It's so nice we get to see them on the ice again," Ellen said, referring to Quinn and his brothers, who had played their first official game the night before. She wasn't addressing anyone in particular, but you and her husband nodded in agreement. You smiled as Quinn skated across the Canucks' side of the ice, knowing how excited he was to be back.

"He looks so happy out there," Ellen said, smiling when she noticed you watching him. "Yeah, he does," you responded, your voice filled with pride.

You tuned out for the rest of warmups, catching up with Quinn's parents and the other girlfriends and wives of the Canucks' players. You updated Ellen and Jim on Quinn's recent training and his excitement for the new season, while Jim shared parts of their offseason family trip.

It wasn’t until the players left and the ice technicians began preparing the ice for the game that you returned your attention to the rink.

Fifteen minutes later, Quinn skated to the blue line, taking his place for the national anthems. The crowd stood with their hats off, and the arena fell into silence.

When the anthems ended and the arena lights brightened, tension gripped the air. This was more than just a game; it was setting the tone for the season, and everyone in the arena knew it.

The puck dropped and the game began. You watched with anticipation as the Canucks made clean passes and executed successful plays. Quinn was in his element. He moved swiftly, maneuvering the puck across the rink with ease. You couldn't help but smile as Jim and Ellen proudly watched their eldest son.

The Canucks dominated the first period, leading the game 2-0. Everyone beamed with pride and excitement as the buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the first period.

After intermission, the game resumed with the same intensity. Quinn intercepted a pass and skated down the ice. The crowd erupted with excitement as he effortlessly moved past defenders. But as he was about to cross the blue line, a player from the opposing team checked him into the boards. The thud was sickening, and the arena fell silent.

Your heart sank as Quinn lay unmoving. The crowd seemed to hold a collective breath as the medical crew rushed onto the ice.

"Oh God," Ellen whispered from beside you. Jim leaned forward, silent, his eyes never leaving his son.

After what felt like an eternity, Quinn was helped off the ice. The silence in the arena was deafening, replaced only by the occasional murmur of concern from the crowd. You exchanged a look with Quinn's parents before gathering your things and rushing to the players' locker room.

When you arrived, security let you through after recognizing you and Quinn's parents and the urgency on your faces.

Quinn was lying on a stretcher and surrounded by medics. You could only watch nervously as doctors ran tests to determine his condition. It took another 10 minutes before a doctor approached you.

"He has a severe concussion; he'll be brought to a hospital immediately. I advise one person to accompany him in the ambulance," she said slowly, "but I will leave that option up to you all. We'll load him in right now."

Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, concern, helplessness—your mind couldn’t seem to focus on one.

"Hey Y/N, why don't you go with him? Jim and I will let his brothers know about what happened; you can head there first,” Ellen said, approaching you. Her voice forced you back into reality, a brief escape from the thoughts. Her face was grave as she tried to maintain her composure.

“I will, thank you,” you replied, forcing a smile.

The ride to the hospital was tense. It was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment. Quinn was stable thanks to the medical staff and the doctors, but your mind continued to run with uncertainty. You were concerned about his health and career; you knew his parents, and now his brothers were thinking the same.

Time seemed to move slowly as Quinn was brought into a room and hooked onto machines. You felt as if you were witnessing things in third person. You watched as the doctor walked you through the safety procedures. You watched as the nurses gave you sympathetic smiles and took his vitals. Even after the doctors left the room, you just stood there.

You eventually moved to sit beside him, watching him wistfully. Tonight wasn’t supposed to end this way.

“I’m sorry you’re in so much pain, Quinn,” you whispered. “I’m here for you.”

Everything was a blur after Jim and Ellen arrived to the hospital. It was late at night, hours had passed since the accident, and the game had ended an hour ago. The Canucks managed to hold onto the lead and win the first game of the season, but media reports claimed the atmosphere changed after Quinn was rushed off the ice.

"Thank you for coming here with him, Y/N. You should get going now; you've had a long day," Jim said a few minutes after he and Ellen had settled into the room. "Take care of yourself, okay?" he added, squeezing your shoulder. Ellen nodded, "You'll be the first person we contact when he wakes up."

You smiled and nodded, unable to muster any words.

“Hey Y/N? Sorry for calling you so early but, Quinn’s awake.”

You rushed to the hospital the moment the words left Ellen's mouth over the phone. It's not like you were sleeping anyway; your worries kept you up all night, leaving you with barely 4 hours of sleep.

Jim was anxiously pacing outside Quinn's room when you arrived.

"Good Y/N, you're here," he said, afraid to meet your eye.

"What happened? Is everything okay?" you asked, concerned, preparing yourself for the worst.

"He doesn't recognize you."

Your heart stopped.

"We showed him pictures and videos... I am sorry, Y/N. We said you were coming over, and he said he had no idea who you were."

It felt like all the air was sucked out of your lungs; you couldn't breathe. Jim kept talking, but you didn't hear much of what he said.

After he was finished, you quietly asked, "Is it okay if I go see him?"

Jim hesitated but nodded.

When you walked into the room, everyone's eyes were on you—Quinn’s brothers, Ellen, and Quinn.

When you made eye contact with Quinn, tears threatened to spill. The eyes that once looked at you with love and devotion now regarded you as a stranger. To him, you were just that—a stranger.

Ellen ushered everyone outside, giving you privacy. You secretly didn’t want to be left alone, unsure of how to approach the situation. How were you supposed to start a conversation? Did he even want to speak with you?

“Hey Quinn,” you said quietly.

“You don’t have to be so far, you know,” he replied, gesturing to five feet of space that separated you.

"Oh, right," you said, embarrassed. You stepped closer and took a seat by his bed.

"My mom says you're my girlfriend, but she won't tell me anything else," Quinn said, not meeting your gaze.

"Yeah, we've been dating for a year now," you replied.

When he finally looked at you, he looked guilty.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I know this is hard for you, and it's hard for me too. My doctors told me I need to focus on my recovery, and trying too hard to remember things might not be the best for me right now."

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. "I understand. Your recovery is the most important thing right now. I'll be here, supporting you every step of the way, even if it's from a distance."

He gave you a small, grateful smile. "Thanks for understanding."

The room fell into an awkward silence, the weight of the situation hanging heavily between you. You wanted to say so much, to remind him of all the moments you had shared, to tell him how much you love him, but you knew now was not the time.

"I'll let you rest," you said softly, standing up.

As you turned to leave, Quinn called out to you, "Wait."

You paused, looking back at him. His expression was conflicted, a mix of confusion and longing.

"Can you stay a little longer? Maybe tell me about us? I feel like it's only fair to you if I have some idea of our relationship."

Your heart warmed slightly at his request. "Of course. I'd be happy to."

You settled back into the chair, taking a deep breath. "Well, we met at a party last year. You were charming and funny, and we just clicked instantly. We started seeing each other more, going out on dates, and eventually, you asked me to be your girlfriend.”

As you recounted your shared memories, Quinn listened intently, his eyes never leaving your face. You talked about your favourite moments together—the late-night conversations, the adventures around the city, the evenings spent watching movies.

"I can tell you more later if you want," you said, noticing the tiredness creeping onto his face.

"I'd like that," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thanks for staying.”

"Anytime," you said, smiling as you stood up again. "Get some rest.”

As you left the room, you felt a mixture of hope and sorrow. The future was uncertain, and you knew Quinn would need time to heal physically and emotionally. But for now, you were comforted by the fact that he was willing to let you be a part of his journey, even if he didn't remember you.

You stepped out into the hallway, where Ellen and Jim were waiting. Ellen gave you a questioning look, and you offered her a reassuring nod. "He wants to hear about us. It's a start."

Ellen smiled sadly, "That's a good sign. Thank you. I know this is hard, but we're so grateful you're here."

You spent the next few days at the hospital, balancing your time between work, visiting Quinn, and trying to hold yourself together. Each visit brought small progress; he was more receptive, asking questions about your shared life, and showing glimpses of the Quinn you knew and loved.

One evening, as you sat by his bed, Quinn turned to you with a serious expression.

"I still don't remember everything, but I feel like I should give us a chance. Can we take it slow? Maybe try to rebuild what we had?"

You felt a rush of hope at his words. "Of course. We'll take it one day at a time. I'm not going anywhere."

masterlist | qh43 masterlist

#⭑ isaadore #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #hockey #nhl #nhl hockey #qh43 #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fluff #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks #canucks

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newstfionline · 2 years

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Monday, December 26, 2022

Millions in US hunker down from frigid, deadly monster storm (AP) Millions of people hunkered down in a deep freeze overnight and early morning to ride out the frigid storm that has killed at least 18 people across the United States, trapping some residents inside homes with heaping snow drifts and knocking out power to hundreds of thousands of homes and businesses. The scope of the storm has been nearly unprecedented, stretching from the Great Lakes near Canada to the Rio Grande along the border with Mexico. About 60% of the U.S. population faced some sort of winter weather advisory or warning, and temperatures plummeted drastically below normal from east of the Rocky Mountains to the Appalachians, the National Weather Service said. More than 2,360 domestic and international flights were canceled Saturday, according to the tracking site FlightAware. Forecasters said a bomb cyclone—when atmospheric pressure drops very quickly in a strong storm—had developed near the Great Lakes, stirring up blizzard conditions, including heavy winds and snow.

As Applications Fall, Police Departments Lure Recruits With Bonuses and Attention (NYT) As American police departments seek to overcome an exodus of disgruntled officers and a sudden decline in applications, they are wooing recruits with some of the tactics a football coach might use to land a prized quarterback. In Fairfax County, Va., in the suburbs of Washington, future officers are being treated to a “signing day” ceremony where they formally accept their job offers. Out-of-state residents who want to join the police force in Louisville, Ky., are being flown in to take entrance tests, put up in a hotel and paired with an officer for a ride-along. On the West Coast, some agencies are offering bonuses worth tens of thousands of dollars to lure officers from other departments to transfer. The economics of law enforcement were long tilted in favor of police departments, which often had far more qualified applicants than they did job openings. No longer. A steep drop in the number of people wanting to become police officers since the start of the pandemic and the unrest of 2020 have given extraordinary leverage to job seekers, forcing departments to market themselves in new ways.

Days before new president, old divisions tearing at Brazil (AP) Trumpets and snares will play Brazil’s national anthem at Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s swearing-in on Jan. 1. Then, one will hear a different song on the streets, its lyrics taking a shot at outgoing President Jair Bolsonaro. “It is time for Jair, it is time for Jair ... to go away!” the lyrics say. “Pack your bags, hit the road and go away!” When Lula clinched his election win over Bolsonaro on Oct. 30, tens of thousands of people sang the familiar tune throughout the night, pushing the song to the top of Spotify’s list in Brazil and showing one way that many Brazilians aren’t ready to extend olive branches. Healing Brazil’s divided society will be easier said than done. Lula’s Cabinet appointments thus far favoring leftists and stalwarts of his Workers’ Party are turning off those who trusted the divisive 77-year-old to govern alongside moderates, and who joined forces after Bolsonaro repeatedly tested the guardrails of the world’s fourth-biggest democracy.

Air travellers warned of delays as UK passport control staff strike (Reuters) Passengers at British airports were warned of delays after passport control staff walked out on Friday on the first day of a strike due to last until New Year, though London’s Heathrow and Gatwick reported no major disruptions. The Public and Commercial Services Union said more than 1,000 Border Force staff, who are employed by the government, were expecting to strike. They are following nurses, paramedics, and workers in the rail and postal sectors in the biggest wave of industrial action over pay and conditions in Britain for decades.

In Ukraine, Christmas Lights Defy Darkness of War, and Children Ask for Peace (NYT) Hundreds of missiles and drones aimed at Ukraine’s energy infrastructure have left millions of people without power—and dozens of cities without Christmas lights. So some Ukrainian cities decided to be inventive with their Christmas decorations—finding ways to win back the season while not wasting precious electricity or disappointing children as holiday lights blink out during the attacks. In the usually serene square of St. Sophia Cathedral in Kyiv, the capital, the authorities put up what they called the Christmas Tree of Invincibility. It was decorated with papier-mâché white doves and a strip of blue and yellow lights—the colors of the Ukrainian flag—powered by a diesel generator. This year, Christmas decorations are hardly visible in Ukrainian cities, but when they are displayed, they almost always have a patriotic touch. Blue and yellow ribbons are used to create flags, children’s letters to soldiers are put on display and Christmas bunnies now hold blue and yellow hearts. Valeriy Bozhenko, who is working as Santa Claus this season at Kyiv’s central railway station, said children most often ask him “for peace,” with toys usually coming in second.

As Russia bombs Ukraine’s infrastructure, its own services crumble (Washington Post) As Russia has launched relentless strikes on Ukraine’s critical infrastructure, leaving millions without electricity, water and heat, towns across Russia have been beset by their own, utility-related disasters. A huge gas pipeline explosion outside St. Petersburg last month, major fires in two separate Moscow shopping malls allegedly caused by dodgy welding, and faulty power grids that have left tens of thousands without heat and electricity are just some of the incidents reported since Russia’s efforts to obliterate Ukraine’s infrastructure that began in October. In late October, two sewer pipes burst in the southern city of Volgograd, flooding several streets with feces and waste water, and leaving 200,000 of the 1 million residents without water or heating for several days. A few weeks later, a similar, though less drastic sewage problem in the town of Pervouralsk, a small city west of Yekaterinburg, provoked residents to drag buckets of fecal water to the offices of the local water council in protest, claiming authorities had neglected the problem for years. While disasters now raise suspicions of sabotage linked to the war in Ukraine, poorly maintained infrastructure is a long-standing and persistent problem in Russia—the result of old Soviet-era systems in need of repair and costly maintenance, decades of endemic corruption, and the government’s prioritization of defense and security budgets, as well as the development of major cities over regional towns.

Putin says Russia ready to negotiate over Ukraine (Reuters) President Vladimir Putin said Russia was ready to negotiate with all parties involved in the war in Ukraine but that Kyiv and its Western backers had refused to engage in talks. Russia’s Feb. 24 invasion of Ukraine has triggered the most deadly conflict in Europe since World War Two and the biggest confrontation between Moscow and the West since the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. There is, thus far, little end in sight to the war. The Kremlin says it will fight until all its aims are achieved while Kyiv says it will not rest until every Russian soldier is ejected from all of its territory, including Crimea which Russia annexed in 2014.

Taliban Bar Women From NGOs, Threatening to Worsen Crisis (NYT) The Afghan government on Saturday barred women from working in local and international humanitarian organizations, officials said, a move that threatens billions of dollars of aid that has kept Afghanistan from the brink of starvation amid an economic collapse. The ban is the latest blow to women’s rights under a Taliban administration that appears to value eradicating women from public life over keeping the country from plunging further into a dire humanitarian catastrophe that risks the lives of millions of Afghans. The edict, announced in a letter from the Ministry of Economy and confirmed to The New York Times by the ministry’s spokesman, warned that the ministry would revoke the operating licenses of any organizations that did not comply. It was unclear whether the ban would apply to the United Nations’ aid agencies, and to all women or only Afghan nationals working in aid organizations.

Pope's lament: Icy winds of war buffet humanity at Christmas (AP) Pope Francis used his Christmas message Sunday to lament the "icy winds of war” buffeting humanity and to make an impassioned plea for an immediate end to the fighting in Ukraine, a 10-month-old conflict he decried as “senseless.” Francis also cited long-running conflicts in the Middle East, including in the Holy Land, “where in recent months violence and confrontations have increased, bringing death and injury in their wake.” In addition, he prayed for a lasting truce in Yemen and for reconciliation in Iran and Myanmar, and cited violence and conflicts in Africa's Sahel region. He lamented that on Christmas, the “path of peace” is blocked by social forces that include “attachment to power and money, pride, hypocrisy, falsehood.” “Indeed, we must acknowledge with sorrow that, even as the Prince of Peace is given to us, the icy winds of war continue to buffet humanity," Francis said. “If we want it to be Christmas, the birth of Jesus and of peace, let us look to Bethlehem and contemplate the face of the child who is born for us,'' he said. ”And in that small and innocent face, let us see the faces of all those children who, everywhere in the world, long for peace."

China angered, Taiwan cheered by new U.S. defence act (Reuters) China expressed anger on Saturday at a new U.S. defence authorisation law that boosts military assistance for Taiwan, while Taipei cheered it for helping boost the island’s security. China, which considers democratically governed Taiwan its own territory, expressed “strong dissatisfaction and resolute opposition” regarding the U.S. National Defense Authorization Act, the Chinese Foreign Ministry said in a statement. It said the $858 billion military spending measure, which authorises up to $10 billion in security assistance and fast-tracked weapons procurement for Taiwan, contained provisions that “cause serious damage to peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait”. China has never renounced using force to bring Taiwan under its control. Taiwan strongly disputes China’s sovereignty claims, saying only the island’s 23 million people can decide their future.

#headlines #news

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noloveforned · 2 years

Audio

we've got a few weeks left before the holidays, so tune into no love for ned on wlur from 8pm to midnight tonight to hear something new. last week's show is below and streamable when you have time (or just stick around for the re-air at 10pm tonight)!

no love for ned on wlur – november 25th, 2022 from 8-10pm

artist // track // album // label marvin gaye // when did you stop loving me, when did i stop loving you // here, my dear // motown special interest // midnight legend // endure // rough trade pohgoh // now i know // du und ich // spartan marina fages // aventuras // épica and fantástica // joyful noise weekend // end times // sports // slumberland big joanie // what are you waiting for // back home // kill rock stars pretty sick // human condition // makes me sick makes me smile // dirty hit alien nosejob // coastal living two // stained glass // total punk nervous twitch // what the hell // some people never change // reckless yes dumb // pull me up // pray for tomorrow // mint phil and the tiles // elixir // phil and the tiles 7" ep // anti fade divorcer // highland park // nutty grotto cassette // (self-released) carla dal forno // mind you're on // come around // kallista body corp // react // unusual for us // bedroom suck sarah mary chadwick // all those things we'll never do // flipped it 7" // kill rock stars photay // current // an offering // international anthem jeff parker // july 8th, 2019, part two (excerpt) // mondays at the enfield tennis academy // eremite per husby septett // the peacemaker // peacemaker // barely breaking even surya botofasina // beloved california temple // everyone's children // spiritmuse the stylistics // betcha by golly, wow // the stylistics // avco cherise // sunrise // blue note re:imagined ii compilation // blue note r.a.p. ferreira featuring hemlock ernst // mythsysizer instinct // 5 to the eye with stars // ruby yacht contour // babe brother // onwards! // touching bass nicholas craven featuring navy blue // anchor // craven n three // goodfelons ezra collective featuring sampa the great // life goes on // where i'm meant to be // partisan tiana major9 // lucky // at sixes and sevens // motown melody's echo chamber // from pink they fell into blue // unfold // fat possum simon merle // girl on a cover // simon merle and friends // petrol chips eterna joventut // dime adiós // mucho amor // snap! clap! club air devi // ashrita // rooting for you cassette // devil town tapes guided by voices // damn good mr. jam // scalping the guru // gbv inc.

#wlur #radio shows

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onebigowlhouseobsession · 2 years

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It's me, coming at you guys again with silly Psychonauts content. This time including Gristol, crazy I know.

@britishsass helped out a ton on this one by beta-reading for me. Just want them to know they're appreciated!

Anyway, if you want to read this one here on tumblr.com, it's below the cut.

Anyone who knows the Psychic 7 must know one, simple, undeniable fact. They're a unit, a family, and no one hurts one of their own and gets away with it.

Gristol, unfortunately, is just now learning this.

-------------

It's in no way a coordinated effort. They didn't sit down together and discuss what to do, didn't talk it out and decide this was the best course of action. It's a consensus they come to independently of each other, though they're conclusions are all ironically similar. Perhaps because they are all similarly angry.

Surprisingly it's Otto, who drops by first. He levitates himself up to the Psychisolation Chamber, this one empty besides for the barest essentials, and a single, lonely man. Already, Otto can hear the whiffs of a repeated, humming tune, a childish sort of anthem. He drags a nearby chair to his side as he walks up to the door of the Chamber, and peers inside. There lies Gristol Malik, past heir to the throne of Grulovia, recent mole in the Psychonauts, naysayer, laid out on his sheet less mattress glazed eyed as if he's caught a bad case of death.

Otto waves, smiling, once Gristol looks up and finally notices him. The ex-prince scowls at the man, pausing abruptly in his humming. Instead of addressing Otto he glares back at the floor once more, not even bothering to sit up.

"That's fine," Otto replies with mirth, "You don't have to talk to me. I'm sure you're a fine listener." He pauses as he positions the chair still floating at his side, so he's seated directly in front of the chamber's locked door. He folds his hands over his knees, crossed with one foot kicking, and grins. "How are you holding up? The chamber's comfy?"

There's a noise from the chamber, sounding like a tray hitting the floor. Gristol huffs. "I refuse to eat this rubbish you all call food," He says, after a long pause, slightly muffled through the walls. He sounds like he's about to gear up to make a demanding request for better conditions. Otto cuts him off before he gets the chance.

"That's fine. Eat, don't eat. It's your choice."

Gristol says indignantly, "I won't stand for-"

"Are you sure we couldn't make the chamber more comfortable?" Otto stands up, peering through the eye-slot once more, "It's already soundproof, waterproof, and air tight, but surely there's something we can do to make this easier for you–" his tone never shifts from it's amiable, conversational lilt, but his eyes narrow, glinting in a way that gives Gristol pause.

Otto taps his chin in thought. "I don't know, I mean, it's already perfect for what it's designed for. You can't hear anyone, even if they're screaming at the top of their lungs, and they can't hear you. The walls are reinforced psitanium steel, so no one could possibly break in and hurt you" –and you certainly can't break out.

"No one ever comes up here, anyhow, so you'd get plenty of me time. It's perfect! What more could you ask for?"

Gristol stares up at Otto with wide eyes, once he recognizes this is sounding mighty similar to a threat. He shivers at the thought of being trapped alone, here. "Wait– wait a second. Who the h*ll are you? Where's my usual attendant?"

"All you need to know is that I'm the man who can make certain you never get out of that cage. I can keep you stuck in there for the next decade, before making you conveniently and coincidentally disappear, if I so choose," He's still smiling quite amicably, continuing to whisper the next part. "So I suggest you watch yourself, Mr. Malik. You wouldn't want to make me any angrier than you already have."

"What the–"

"I think that's enough from you, my good man." His voice drips with weaponized hospitality. He glances at the camera behind them, noting the red record light, and turns back to Gristol, who is at this point sitting bolt upright, and wide-eyed. Otto claps his hands together in a dramatic show. "Now, you said something about food?" He asks, in his normal, booming voice. "Great, we'll get right on that. Thank you for your time, Mr. Malik. I think this was a valuable discussion."

Otto promptly collects his chair, bars the eye-slot, and leaves.

---------------

Ford is the next one to stop by, and he is, by all metrics, considerably less friendly. Gristol wakes up to the sound of pounding on the chamber's door, terribly loud and terribly insistent.

"Hey, I'm trying to sleep!" Gristol snaps, and he jumps up to his feet, kicking his sheets off of him with both legs, before stomping over to the entrance. Ford is still pounding the side of his fist on the top of the door when Gristol has gotten close enough to be able to kick it. He yelps in pain, and stumbles back, before screaming in a voice that's half a cry, "Who dares to disturb the future Gzar of Grulovia at such a godawful time of night!"

Ford snatches the slot open, glaring down at Gristol as if he'd rather like to reach in through the gap and strangle him. The old man's scraggly mustache jumps as he frowns. Gristol gasps, shock leaving him speechless for a second. He points at Ford Cruller with a shaky finger, "It's you!" He shouts, shrill.

He subconsciously starts to recede into himself, stepping backwards.

"It's 3 in the afternoon, you dimwit," Is what Cruller tells Gristol harshly, instead of addressing his more than obvious statement.

"You! You-! You ruined everything!"

"Please, everything about that convulted ploy of yours was stupid. No one had to ruin it for you, it was doomed to failure."

"If you and your psychic buffoons hadn't–"

"Now that's enough!" Ford says with a growl. "Don't make me come in there."

"Stupid fortune tellers, ruining everything." Gristol continues to grumble like a child.

He comes at Gristol like a rocket, figuratively speaking, because of course he does. This was one of the many ways Ford was trying to make amends for his many, many mistakes, so he doesn't pull any punches.

"Now you listen here; you can be as scared, as small minded, as stupid as you choose. I don't give a single iota of a single f*ck about you, and you need to understand that. Hate psychics for all I care, makes no difference to me. But if you try to hurt one of mine again? Any of them? ...If you even look at Lucy the wrong way? There will be hell to pay."

"She…" Gristol suddenly remembers his earlier encounter with Otto, and points accusingly at Ford. "No, he put you up to this, didn't he?"

"What? No. I'm doing this of my own volition." Ford waves his hand dismissively. "Lots of people around here think you can change, think you've got a chance of making something better of yourself. They think you can try. I think it's a load of rubbish. Being better means knowing you've done something wrong, that you've hurt people, and you know no such thing." Ford shakes his head. "You are going to fall back to old habits, because you still believe the same terrible lies. I'm here to let you know that when you do f*ck up, if you do f*ck up, I'm going to be right there, ready to dunk your face in the gosh darn flame. I'm here to let you know that I'm coming for you."

Gristol laughs, a foolish choice, really. "What's an old man like you going to do?"

Ford laughs, but it's less amused and more somber. He swiftly teleports into the chamber with Gristol, just long enough to smack him in the back of the head, before teleporting away. "Gah!" Gristol is left standing in silence, nursing a bump just above his neckline, wondering if the old man might be coming back for round two.

He doesn't, but Gristol was convinced he would.

--------------

His next visitors consist of a thick-bearded older man, and his lawfully wedded brain-in-a-ball. Bob Zanotto frowns, halfway down the walkway to the Psychoisolation chamber, and whispers to the sloshing brain orb in his arms, "Hey, you sure about this? There's still repairs on the Feel Mobile we could be doing, ya know, if this is too much?"

Helmut nudges against Bob's forearm. "Course I am. C'mon, for Lucy!"

Bob walks up to the chamber, Helmut's brain still cradled in his arms. Gristol puts down his fork, throws it to the floor, really, pushing his lunch tray away, and strains to look at them.

"Who are you?" Gristol hisses. "Why am I suddenly getting so many visitors? I want to be left alone!"

"You don't remember us? You know, from that out of control water-tornado you caused?" Helmut asks.

"We were the ones trying to avert that whole mess." Bob scowls, and hugs his husband's brain a little tighter to his chest. "We were doing great before you showed up, by the way."

"It was only… what, a week ago?"

"Two weeks, Honeybear."

"Time gets really funky sometimes. Must be the brain juices."

"Are you going to answer my question?" Gristol asks, becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Oh, sure!" Helmut chirps, "My name's Helmut. I'm the guy who was piloting your body for a while, while you were absent. And the handsome hunk who's holding me right now is my lovey-hubby, Bob."

Bob blushes, and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "We're getting sidetracked here, Helmut. We came here for a specific reason, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, right! Would you like to do the honors or should I?"

Bob deposits Helmut's brain back on the floor, watching with no lack of fondness as the orb his husband is in starts zipping around. "I'll handle this," Bob replies.

"What are you going to do that hasn't already been done?" Gristol asks.

Bob's upper lip curls upward into a disgusted snarl. "Gah, I can't believe I almost kissed that."

Helmut rolls side to side, occasionally knudging against Bob's ankles. "I bet you're glad you listened to me now, huh, Bobbybear."

Bob smiles faintly at that.

Bob turns back to Gristol. "Grulovia was bad enough the first time around. Your old man, let's just say he got what he deserved."

"You won't get any disagreement from me on that front," Gristol says.

Bob's brow furrows, but he ultimately decides to ignore him so he can continue making his point. "Right, well, anyway, the point was that it isn't going to take a whole country of people hurt for me to decide you need to go. One is sufficient. I'm not going to call the waves, and carry you out to sea. Or burn you like Ford might, or call in all those crazy gadgets Otto would. Instead, I'll just have a nice chat with my plant friends. They're smart, and they're creative too, so they'll know what to do."

"There's lots of empty fields around here. Lots of places to bury uh, you know… things. Relatively large things." Bob states, with clear ill-intent.

Gristol looks more than a little sick at the implication.

"Are we talking about composting?" Helmut asks happily. It's unclear if he's been following the conversation up to now. "The plants could always use some fresh plant food!"

"My thoughts exactly," Bob answers. He scoops up Helmut, earning the disembodied brain equivalent of a whooping laugh. "Speaking of food, I heard the Noodle Bowl has a special on pretzels today." Bob adds.

Helmut jitters with excitement in his orb, but then psychically transmits disappointed vibes at Bob, after a moment. "Don't tease me like that, Bobby. S'not nice."

Bob pats the orb apologetically. "Oh, right, sorry. Forgot about that whole, can't eat thing."

"How will handsome Helmut survive such travesty?"

"I promise we'll get you a bunch of pretzels, once you're back to your body. How's that sound?"

"Far out!"

Gristol's appetite has, without a doubt, soured. He doesn't even try to bother with his lunchtime bologna, at this point.

-------------

Gristol's time is peacefully silent, for about three days. No one visits, no one speaks to him, and no one comes anywhere near where he's being held besides to drop off his meals.

His luck runs out on the third day.

He should have expected it. How many of them were there? Six? Seven? Eight?

She doesn't bother with sitting. Or long preambles, or even a simple, polite introduction. She's all business, stepping up to the door and delicately sliding the eye-slot open, before standing back, clearing her throat to get his attention.

"It would be such a shame if a swarm of bees were to wander into this chamber, wouldn't it?"

Gristol, at this point, is just tired. He is so, very tired. "You wouldn't dare," he says, but it's lacking his previous, gung-ho conviction.

Cassie hums flippantly, like they're discussing grocery lists, or book sales. "I control the bees in theory, but if they've set their mind to something it's much too difficult to stop them. As a hive they have their own momentum." It's out of my hands, she implies, as if she doesn't want his head on a pike.

If she's like the last four, she too has murderous intent.

Gristol finds it very difficult to drum up the energy to be properly scared. He drops his head back against the metal wall of the Psychoisolation Chamber with a solid sounding thunk, wondering all the while how his life could have possibly gone so far sideways . What did he do wrong? Was trying to resurrect his fallen kingdom's savior really such a terrible thing?

Is he even going to survive to the end of the summer? Or is one of these insane psychics going to psi-blast him to death first? And does he even care anymore?

"You know all of your friends have already been through to threaten me, right?" Gristol asks, too exhausted to affect his usual, annoyed drawl when he talks to lessers.

(If she knew you thought that, she'd probably sentence you to death by bee right now.)

"Oh, really?" The freakishly tall, old woman asks. She sounds disappointed not to be the first, as if her thunder has been stolen. She taps her pencil against the cover of the volume folded in her hands.

"Yes. All with increasingly… violent warnings."

"Oh, alright then," She definitely sounds disappointed, "I was hoping to properly scare you straight. But, seeing as I've already been beat to the punch, we can cut this short. I'm sure you're sick of all the long lectures, and I have much better use of my time than associating with you any longer than I must."

Gristol returns her disdain in equal measure. It's what he's best at, after all. "I'll have you know that I am the crown prince of Grulovia and I will be respected."

Cassie smiles at him, thin and without teeth, a pitying sort of expression. "No… no, what you are is a sad man, who hasn't yet realized he is at the end of his rope." She tears a page out of the notebook in her hands, folding it with practiced dexterity as she stands to her full height (not quite full height, per se, since she has to crouch slightly, craning her neck down, to look in through the slot). "My bees patrol the surrounding woods. They, just as I, are quite fond of Lucy... I think I speak for them when I say our opinions of the Motherlobe are a little more complex, but that's still home. You know how bees react when you threaten their home, surely."

Gristol covers his face and muffles a scream. "I'm surrounded by crazy people."

Cassie slips a note through the slot in the metal door, folded into an origami butterfly that almost seems to flutter as it drifts to the floor. "I think I'll just leave this with you. Good day to you, Malik."

"You've already done it once," The note reads, tersely. There isn't any need to specify what it is. "Try it again, and it will be at your own peril."

– Cassie O'Pia

-------------

Compton comes to Psychoisolation specifically to head to his own Chamber and collect his things. He left some precious mementos behind, and had a mind to reclaim them- starting with his framed photograph of him and Cassie, oh, and his chess board, of course. He's walking back to the elevator shaft with his belongings tucked under his arms when he notices noises coming from the only other currently occupied Chamber.

Ah, so that must be where they're keeping Gristol Malik.

He walks over, and steps up to the door. It's too tall for him to peer in, since this chamber is fashioned more for the average sized Psychonaut, and is much taller than his own. He reaches up, slides open the slot near the top of the door, and then clears his throat.

The ending dregs of 'Glory to Grulovia' stop abruptly. Compton frowns reflexively, and shifts on the tips of his toes, as an especially smug voice sounds from deeper in isolation.

"Your future ruler, Gristol Malik of the innumerable Maliks, speaking. Who are you, and what do you want?"

What an awfully unpleasant young man, Compton thinks, with no small amount of discomfort. Someone needs to talk some sense into him, before–

Compton's resolve only strengthens further.

"Hello. I'm Agent Boole. I just thought it would be best to let you know that I have been known, on occasion, to explode a head or two."

Gristol visibly pales. "Hold on, what the h-?"

"I'm sorry, I really must be going. I was only supposed to be here a few minutes, and Cassie is already waiting for me." Compton turns on his heel and rushes off, belongings jangling as he moves.

Gristol is met with the sounds of footsteps retreating. Something falls to the floor, and he can hear whoever's on the other side of the door scrambling to pick it up. Then more footsteps, rushing away, before they peeter out into silence.

The note he received yesterday is still crumpled on the floor to his right.

Gristol is left to panic, once he fully realizes that that was one of them.

-----------

"You poor thing. You're scared, aren't you?" Lucy nods. "I know what Crully and the others are doing. It's sweet- lovely, really, having family that will do these sorts of things for you. Threatening silly little fartheads to keep you safe. I've missed them, but I couldn't really remember what I was missing, which only made me miss them more. A vicious cycle, memory. But I'm rambling."

"I won't hold them back," Lucy says. "You still are that spoiled little brat I knew all those years ago. Maybe you can change, but I won't hold my breath. Your father couldn't, and you've shaped up to be just like him."

"Don't you talk about my father! He was an idiot and a- a coward, and I am nothing like him."

"Just be happy I've turned over a new leaf." Lucy sighs. "It's a shame. You have such potential, if you could just get out of your own way, silly glupi."

Gristol grumbles, and it's a bitter, hateful sound. Lucy hooks her fingers over the edge of the slot, the only means of contact Gristol had with the outside world. She would have brushed her bandaged hand against his cheek, if she could. It doesn't matter, of course, since he would have turned his head away, anyway. He turns his face away from her, now, so he doesn't have to see her disappointment.

Lucy's next statement is knowing in her certainty, smug with her resolution. She chuckles heartily, a cackling noise.

"Chin up, little prince," she says like she might have all those years ago, when he was still a tiny little boy, and the worst he had ever done was be fussy with an attendant. She looks at him not like her enemy, but an old friend fallen to the wayside. There is kindness in that gaze, a quality in her he had not noticed nor valued, before. Her smile contains lifetimes, more contemplative than first glances ever reveal.

"There's hope for you yet."

"Please just– just leave me alone." Gristol mutters. "Don't you have bowling pins to juggle or something?"

"Protect yourself if you must, but it won't get you out of that metal bubble of yours." She tuts disapprovingly, as if she's just given him a test and he's failed. "I think… maybe, you could change. It's your choice…" She contemplates the next part deeply, before eventually adding, softly, "If you ever do decide you want that second chance, ask for me. I promise I'll come, and I'll help you to try."

"Do you really believe I can change?" Gristol asks, and everything about him, from his posture to his tone, is guarded. Angry, and bitter, waiting for the inevitable trick.

"Yes," Lucy answers simply, truthfully. "If you're willing to put in the work."

Hope is a foolish thing, but Gristol still feels it growing in his chest as he watches her walk away, despite his better judgment.

He stares at his hands, for a good long moment after she's long gone, and ponders.

You could be better. Even scarier; there's hope for you yet.

#psychonauts 2 #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 spoilers #psychonauts fanfiction #gristol malik #lucrecia mux #otto mentallis #ford cruller #bob zanotto #helmut fullbear #cassie o’pia #compton boole #psychic 7 #psychic seven #this fic should be called let's scare Gristol half to death: the saga #this is funny #i think #my writing #OBOHO writes

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emmythespacecowgirl · 3 years

Note

Headcanons for the Astros wanting you to sing the National anthem.

The Astronauts Wanting You to Sing The National Anthem:

somehow they had all found out that you sing

and when i say sing i mean your voice could blow people away

they loved when you sang "The Tennessee Waltz" on karaoke nights

not a dry eye could be found at the bar

they really enjoyed any song from "The Music Man"

because you gave those show tunes your best :)

also they thought it was a sh*t musical before you started singing the songs from it

somehow the astros get sucked into playing a game of beach volleyball against Chris Kraft's MCC crew

Chris's guys are notoriously good

the astros prefer handball

but they'll accept a challenge against the nerds of MCC any day >:)

their one condition is:

you must sing The National Anthem before the game commences

you think it sounds childish

but since they asked so nicely and think the world of you

you agree to do it

you stand in the middle of the sand pit near the volleyball net

you're holding the ball

the two teams watch you from their respective sides

you sing the crap out of The National Anthem

you think about all the Astros eventually going into space

how they'll be a symbol for their country

you finish strong

you look around at players

Gene Kranz has a tear trickling down his cheek

we all know he's a sl*t for 'merica

suddenly both sides start clapping

you give a cute lil bow

and throw the ball up in the air

letting the game commence

#nasa headcanons #enjoy bb #volleyball #the national anthem

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insomniamamma · 3 years

Text

Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process. 2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

"’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered. "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’" Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with. On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after-- "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing-- "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain-- Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says. "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?" "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils. "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?" "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand. "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

"Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him. "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--" "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy. "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes. "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands. "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--" Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds. Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

"Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found." "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend. "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel." "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man." "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?" "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up." "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round. "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow. "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware." "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!" "Daniel!"

--Stars--

Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it-- Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still-- "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!" "Whazzit birdie?" "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie. "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud." "You sure?" "Go back to sleep, Cee."

"Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling-- "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him. "Yuh. M'awake birdie," "I gotta pee," she says. "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail," "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent. "Alright, just gimme a second," he says. "I'll get the light," "We don't need it," he says. "Ez-" "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers. "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him. "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks. "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it? "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his. "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach. "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going." "Not right now. I want some quiet." “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not. "I love you, Cee." "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

#writer wednesday #ezra prospect #cee prospect #contemporary AU #ezra and cee

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john-laurens · 4 years

Text

The parley Commissioners were John Laurens and the Vicomte de Noailles, Lafayette’s brother-in-law, representing the Allies, and on the other side two aides, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Dundas and Major Alexander Ross, for Cornwallis.

Cornwallis’ conditions proved inadmissible. He asked for the honors of war to be granted to his garrison in the ceremony with flags flying and the right to march to music of their choice. For some Byzantine reason of European custom, the right of the capitulators to play the national airs or anthems of the victor was considered to imply that they had put up a good fight. Washington did not think so. In his judgment, in a letter to Governor Sim Lee of Maryland, Cornwallis’ conduct “has hitherto been passive beyond conception.” In Washington’s creed, danger was created to be overcome. Moreover, at the surrender of Charleston, eighteen months before, the British had allowed no honors of war to the defenders and required them to appear with flags cased – that is, furled. Laurens, who had taken part in that occasion, was adamant in refusing to allow the British the honor of marching to the music of their choice with regimental flags flying. When told by Major Ross that this was a “harsh article,” Laurens reminded the Major that after a gallant defense of six weeks in open trenches at Charleston, the same had been refused by the British there. Ross replied that “Lord Cornwallis did not command at Charleston,” and was firmly told by Laurens, “It is not the individual that is here considered. It is the nation. This remains an article or I cease to be a commissioner.” Next, the British wanted honors for the garrison of Gloucester, while Laurens insisted it should be treated as one with the rest. A compromise was finally found, allowing the cavalry to ride with drawn swords and sounding trumpets while the infantry must keep its colors cased.

To plunge into passionate dispute over the trivialities of so-called honor is a queer but not uncommon gambit of men who have just come from putting their lives at stake in serious combat. These were men who had been fighting for empire in one case and for national independence in the other. Did they think they were altering the verdict of the battlefield?

A more substantive issue next arose in the British demand that British and German troops as prisoners be returned to their countries of origin under parole not to re-engage. The same provision granted at Burgoyne’s surrender had permitted the prisoners to fill the places of other troops at home, who could then be sent to America. This time it was disallowed. The most obstinate issue concerned treatment of the Loyalists who had fought for Britain and whose protection Laurens said he had no power to grant and which he was sure Washington would not permit. While the army waiting outside the parley stirred in restlessness at the delay, the arguments dragged on, until the terms were finally concluded at midnight.

When copied and delivered to Washington, he promised to reply to the modifications early in the morning, with another two hours granted for Cornwallis’ signature, expected at 11 a.m., to be followed by surrender of the garrison at two o’clock, failing which, hostilities would resume. The signed papers were duly delivered in the given time. Promptly at 2 p.m. on October 19, 1781, the first steps took place in the ceremony so often described, inaugurating the existence of a new nation.

Lined up on one side of the road to Williamsburg were ten French regiments in their white uniforms, with white silk flags bearing the royal fleur-de-lis in gold. On the other side stood the Americans, with the Continentals drawn up in the front and the less disciplined and shabbier militia, some with toes poking through broken boots, behind. The British, with polished black boots and gaiters whitened, and wearing fresh uniforms issued by their commissary so that they should not be included in the surrender of property, marched out between the lines with colors tightly cased, no flags flying to wave them along. As required, they marched to the music of their own nation – according to one of history’s most memorable invented legends, a ballad, as everyone supposes, called “The World Turned Upside Down.” In fact, no such song or melody by that name existed.*

*The words occur in one of many versions sung to the popular tune “Derry Down.” Best known of these was the ballad “The King Enjoys His Own Again,” an old Jacobite serenade to Bonnie Prince Charlie, anything but appropriate to this occasion. Another version, entitled “The Old Woman Taught Wisdom” or “When the World Turned Upside Down,” contained these lines of notably uninspired poetry:

If buttercups buzz’d after the bee If boats were on land, churches on sea If ponies rode men and if grass ate the cows And cats should be chased into holes by the mouse If the mamas sold their babies To the Gypsies for half a crown If summer were spring And the other way ‘round Then all the world would be upside down!

The statement that “The World Turned Upside Down” was the tune played by the capitulators has been traced to John Laurens, who is supposed to have told it to William Jackson, his close associate during Laurens’ trip to France and also the recorder of Laurens’ conference on surrender terms with Cornwallis’ aides. Jackson, later assistant to a Secretary of War, is said to have communicated what Laurens told him to Alexander Garden, author of Anecdotes of the American Revolution, published in Charleston in 1828. It has been suggested that what Laurens said was something to the effect that the capitulators marched in a slow and dispirited manner, as if they felt the “world had been turned upside down,” and that Jackson presumed he was referring to the ballad containing those words. Variants as to date and origin of the ballad, as to whether it was or was not a marching tune – e.g., “The rhythm in 6/8 time is not adapted to marching” (Frank Luther, Americans and Their Songs), and, alternatively, “The music makes an excellent march” (Kenneth Roberts, Northwest Passage) – have led students through a maze of contradictory references, leaving us with only one certainty: that the tune played by the capitulators at Yorktown, like what song the sirens sang, is historically obscure.

From The First Salute by Barbara W. Tuchman

I thought this was an interesting explanation of the possible origins of the claim that “The World Turned Upside Down” was the song that Laurens requested be played at the British surrender at Yorktown. The book also includes some sheet music for one of the possible versions of this tune:

#John Laurens #George Washington #William Jackson #Alexander Garden #Charles Cornwallis #Vicomte de Noailles #Thomas Dundas #Alexander Ross #quote

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tomasorban · 5 years

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An Expose of Physical Regenesis & Three-fold Plane of Bodily, Chemical and Spiritual Operation. - DR. GEORGE W. CAREY (Zodiac signs 1-6)

...Our diagram indicates at a glance the chemical formulae that appertain respectively to the zodiacal divisions, but to give a clearer conception as regards their specific qualities and physiological action in relation to the various signs, reference may be had to the following compend :

ARIES : From the teachings of the Chemistry of Life we find that the basis of brain or nerve fluid is a certain mineral salt known as potassium phosphate, or Kali Phos. The Phosphate of Potash. Synonyms : Potassium Phosphate, Kali Phosphoricum, Potassii Phosphas. Formula : K2HPO4 . It may be prepared by mixing aqueous phosphoric acid with a sufficient quantity of potash, hydrate or carbonate, until the reaction is slightly alkaline and evaporating. Triturate to 3d or 6th X. This salt is the great builder of the positive brain cells. Kali phos. unijtes with albumen and by some subtle alchemy transmutes it and forms gray brain matter. When the chemical possibilities of this brain builder are fully understood insane asylums will go out of fashion. Man has been deficient in understanding because his brain receiver did not vibrate to certain subtle influences ; the dynamic cells in the gray matter of nerve were not finely attuned and did not respond hence sin, or falling short of understanding.

TAURUS: Sulphate of Soda. Synonyms: Natrum Sulphate, Sodium Sulphuricum, Sodae or Sodii Sulphas, Glauber's Salts. Formula Na2 (SO4 10H2O). May be obtained by the action of Sulphuric acid on sodium chloride (common salt). This cell-salt is found in the intercellular fluids, liver and pancreas. Its principal work is to regulate the supply of water in the human organism. The blood becomes overcharged with water, either from the oxidation of organic matter or from inhaling air that contains more aqueous vapor (water) than is required to produce normal blood. This condition of air is liable to prevail whenever the temperature is above 70 degrees. One molecule of nat. sulph. has the power (chemical intelligence) to take up and carry away two molecules, or twice its bulk of water. The blood does not become overcharged with water from water taken into the stomach, but from the water lifted by expansion caused by heat above 70 degrees and held in the air and thus breathed into the arteries through the lungs. By the above we see that there is more work for this salt in hot weather than during cold weather. So-called malaria, Latin for bad air, is due to a lack of this tissue salt. Water lifted from swamps or clear streams or lakes by the action of the sun's heat is the same ; for heat does not evaporate and lift poisonous disintegrating organic matter from a swamp or marsh, but the water only.

GEMINI : The Chloride of Potash, or Potassium. Synonyms: Potassium chloride, Kali Muriaticum, Kali Chloratum, Kali Chloridum, Potassi Chloridum. Formula: K Cl. This salt must not be confused with the chlorate of potash, a poison, chemical formula K Clo3 . Chloride of potash may be obtained by neutralizing pure aqueous hydrochloric acid with pure potassium carbonate or hydrate. The cell-salt kali muriaticum (Potassium chloride) is the mineral worker of blood that forms fibrin and properly diffuses it through the tissues of the body. Kali mur molecules are principal agents used in the chemistry of life to build fibrin into the human organism. The skin that covers the face contains the lines and angles that give expression and thus differentiate one person from another. In venous blood fibrin amounts to three in one thousand parts; when the molecules of Kali mur fall below the standard in the blood fibrin thickens, causing what is known as pleurisy, pneumonia, catarrh, diphtheria, etc. When the circulation fails to throw out the thickened fibrin via the glands or mucous membrane, it may stop the action of the heart. Embolus is a Latin word meaning little lump, or balls ; therefore to die of embolus, or "heart failure" generally means that the heart's action was stopped by little lumps of fibrin clogging the auricles and ventricles of the heart. When the blood contains the proper amount of kali mur, fibrin is functional and the symptoms referred to above do not manifest.

CANCER : Fluoride of Lime. Synonyms : Calcaria Flurica, Calcium Fluoride. Chemical Formula : CaF2 . This salt is formed by the union of lime and fluorine. The inorganic salts are the workers, controlled and directed by infinite intelligence, that performs the ceaseless miracle of creation or formation. Biologists and physiologists have searched long and patiently for a solution to the mystery of the differentiation of material forms. No ordinary test can detect any difference in the ovum of fish, reptile, bird, beast or man. Chemical analysis reveals the same mineral salts, carbon, oil, fibrine, albumen, sugar, etc., in the life cell, or ovum in the blood, tissue, hair, or bone of the multiple and varied expression of life in material forms. The chemistry of life answers the "Riddle of the Sphinx," and writes above the temple door of investigation: "Let there be light." There is no such thing as dead or inert. All is life. A crystal is an aggregation of living organism. The base of all material manifestation is mineral. "Out of the dust (ashes or mineral) of earth physical man is made." The twelve mineral salts of lime, iron, potash, sodium, silica and magnesium are the foundation stones of every visible form of animal or vegetable. No two forms of the different species of animals have the same combination of this "rock foundation," but all have some of the same minerals. It is quite as important for a student of Biochemistry to understand the process by which certain cellsalts operate to supply a deficiency as it is to know what a particular symptom calls for. Elastic fibre, the chief organic substance in rubber, is formed by a chemical union of the fluoride of lime with albumen, oil, etc. Therefore, we find this salt dominant in the elastic fibre of the body, in the enamel of teeth and connective tissue. A lack of salt in proper amount causes relaxed condition of muscular tissue, falling of the womb and varicose veins. Sometimes there is a non-functional combination of this salt with oil and albumen which forms a solid deposit, causing swelling of stony hardness ; it is a sort of incomplete fibre with other lime salts and vitiated fluids of the body.

LEO : Phosphate of Magnesia. Synonyms : Magnesium Phosphorica. Formula : MgHOPOJ (H2O) . This cell-salt may be made by mixing Phosphate of Soda with Sulphate of Magnesia. This salt is found chiefly in the white fibres of nerves and muscles. The tissues of nerves and muscles are composed of many very fine threads or strands of different colors, each acting as a special telegraph wire, each one having a certain conductile power or quality, special chemical affinity for, certain organic substances, oil or albumen, through and by which the organism is materialized and the process or operations of life are carried on. The imagination might easily conceive the idea that these delicate infinitesimal fibres are strings of the Human Harp, and that molecular minerals are the fingers of infinite Energy striking notes of some Divine Anthem. The white fibres of nerves and muscles need the dynamic action of Magnesia Phosphate especially to keep them in proper tune, or function, for by its chemical action on albumen the special fluid for white nerve or muscle fibre is formed. When the supply of this salt falls below the standard, cramps, sharp shooting pains or some spasmodic condition prevails. Such symptoms are simply calls of nature for more magnesia. The impulsive traits of Leo people are symboled In the pulse, which is a reflex of heart throbs. The phosphate of magnesia, in biochemic therapeutics, is the remedy for all spasmodic impulsive symptoms. This salt supplies the deficient worker or builder in such cases and thus restores normal conditions. A lack of muscular force, or nerve vigor, indicates a disturbance in the operation of the heart cell-salt, magnesia phosphate, which gives the "Lion's spring," or impulse.

VIRGO: Sulphate of Potash. Synonyms : Potassium Sulphate, Kali Sulphos, Potassae Sulphos, Kali Sulphate. Formula : K2SO4 . The miscroscope reveals the fact that, when the tody is in health, little jets of steam are constantly .escaping from the seven million pores of the skin.The human body is a furnace and steam engine. The stomach and bowels burn food by chemical operation as truly as the furnace of a locomotive consumes by combustion. In the case of the locomotive the burning of coal furnishes force which vibrates water and causes an expansion (rate of motion) that we name steam. The average area of skin is estimated to be about 2,000 square inches. The atmospheric pressure being fourteen pounds to the square inch, a person of medium size is subject to a pressure of 40,000 pounds. Each square inch of skin contains 3500 sweat tubes or perspiratory pores (each of which may be likened to a little drain tile) one-fourth of an inch in length, making an aggregate length of the entire surface of the body 201,166 feet, or a tile draining for the body nearly forty miles in length. All tangible elements are the effects of certain rates of motion on the intangible and unseen elements. Nitrogen gas is mineral in solution, or ultimate potency. Oil is made by the union of the sulphate of potassium (potash) with albuminoids and aerial elements. The first element that is disturbed in the organism of those born in the celestial sign Virgo is oil; this break in the function of oils shows a deficiency in potassium sulphate, known in pharmacy as kali sulph. Virgo is represented in the human body by the stomach and bowels, the laboratory in which food is consumed as fuel to set free the minerals, in order that they may enter the blood through the mucous membrane absorbents. The letter X in Hebrew is Samech or Stomach. X or cross, means crucifixion, or charge, transmutation.

#astrology #chemistry #alchemy #consciousness #esoteric #metaphysics #zodiac

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tombolaplayspop · 4 years

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Tombola & The Californian Gurl, or, How Tombola Came to Love Katy Perry

Summer 2013. I was working for a private bank in London and the early days of my 10 year career at this illustrious bank was to drive the partners of the business wherever they pleased. This could be for a lunch meeting with a client or even a quick dash to a fancy dress shop in Soho for a last minute costume idea.

One warm Friday afternoon, I was called upon by my manager for an airport run to Heathrow. I jumped to the chance as he offered the company car to me for the whole weekend and an early finish. I was always prepared for this kind of task as I held in my locker a folder with a dozen CD’s inside. So with some tunes in hand, I rolled up my sleeves, headed towards the car park and awaited my passenger. My journey to the airport was insanely quiet inside the car as passenger read his newspaper whilst I manoeuvred around the London traffic with majestic ease. Once at the destination, my passenger vacated the car, collected his luggage from the boot and was on his merry way.

Now, the fun would begin.

With an estimated 90 minute journey back to Essex ahead of me, I had a fully air conditioned car and a selection of tunes. But what to choose? I flicked through various artists such as Van Halen, Michael Jackson and P!nk but settled for someone I never quite saw eye to eye with musically; Katy Perry.

Let’s zip back five years prior to late 2008.

Katy Perry made waves with the single, I Kissed a Girl from her debut album One of the Boys. Ok, it was cheeky little ditty, but rather annoying. The initial “ooh la la” of Perry’s risqué lyrics did not stick with me in the long run as underneath the sauce, which was spread insanely thick, was a rather bland tune. The follow up, Hot ‘n’ Cold was a far better track in my opinion as it was jaunty and frivolous.With this in mind I decided to attend her 2009 Hello Katy world tour at Koko in London. And to this day, it is the worst gig I have ever attended. Where do I start? Her vocals were appalling, she spoke far too much between tracks and I was left incredibly dissatisfied. Because of this, my view of Perry was tarnished.

Scooting back to my journey home from Heathrow, whilst flicking through my CD folder, there she was, sprawled naked over a pink fluffy cloud gazing at me with her big doe eyes from the cover of her updated sophomore album, Teenage Dream: The Complete Confection. Now, as singles go, this album has three crackers; the nostalgic Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F), the sexually charged title track and the sickeningly sweet California Gurls. So, why not finally get round to listening to the whole thing.

Disclaimer, I used to buy a LOT of albums and never actually listen to them all the way through. Oh how that changed as I matured.

What I experienced on the way home was something quite outstanding. I actually enjoyed almost all of what I heard (ok, Firework is still one of those overplayed anthems that fills me with blaaaaagh), but as I pulled up at home I had a grin on my face and felt joyful for experiencing some new tunes. Later that year she released album number three, Prism. Being a compulsory purchaser of albums before I’ve heard them, I picked it up. I remember there being a free gift too; some seeds... don’t ask.

So what happened next? I didn’t even pop it in my CD player. The first three singles did not do anything for me. Roar was another bland anthem, Unconditionally was bore-off and Dark Horse was emotionless. Because of this, I switched off from anything else she released, which coincidentally, was the biggest mistake I’ve made (more on that later).

By the time 2017 rolled around, there were a slew of pop stars of the 2010’s all making waves such as Bieber, GaGa, Swift and Drake. All trying new things to stay relevant. Perry just didn’t fit in for me. I made a statement that she even tried to mimic her one time frenemy, Miley Cyrus, but chopping her locks off and opting for the pixie cut. I just wasn’t buying it.

Then something incredible happened. I became a father to two beautiful girls called Dottie and Roxie. Our favourite pastime is to pop YouTube on and dance around to music videos. Just like I did in the 90s with my dad and MTV. I started off by sharing the most bubblegum infused pop I could think of, the likes of Little Mix, Taylor Swift and the Spice Girls before dipping in to the past and showing them classics like Peter Gabriel’s Sledgehammer.

Now, you know how YouTube works, once a song finishes it finds something similar. It started to play Katy Perry. One track of hers in particular that my eldest calls “No Big Deal”. I’m talking about This Is How We Do, the fourth single from her third album that I had boyed off after single number three failed me! This track is everything; it’s catchy, it’s fun and you can dance along to it. More importantly, both of my daughters ask for it and are mesmerised by the dazzling video that accompanies it. Afterwards, we watched Birthday, the fifth single from the album which is the sweetest track ever. Then comes Chained to the Rhythm, Swish Swish and then back to the stuff I loved such as T.G.I.F.

My daughters lapped up the crazy side of Perry that I mistook for a desperate attempt at fitting in, shame on me. For I have judged when I just couldn’t get it until I saw both my daughters reactions and how happy it makes them. So, Katy, after all these years, I am sorry for shunning your creativity and glorious music. I now look forward to what you’ll produce next so I can play it to my girls. Thank you.

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lolacoker · 4 years

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‘Notes on a Conditional Form’ is Like A Box of Chocolates, You Never Know What You’re Going to Get

‘Needless to say, stakes were high for The 1975′s latest cut. Notes on a Conditional Form was originally slated for release in May 2019, just six months succeeding the release of their phenomenally successful last album, A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships. After winning the Brit Award for Best British Album, topping year-end lists as well as the Billboard 200, and being compared to music legends such as the likes of Radiohead, critics and an audiences alike were itching to see what The 1975 could do next.

The 1975′s most recent release, Notes on a Conditional Form, has been called many things: pretentious, muddled, self-indulgent. But it has yet to be called boring, because it is anything but.

The 1975 have never been ones gift any of their agendas in a pretty bow, anthemic takes like ‘Love It If We Made It’ and ‘Loving Someone’ tell us that. On this record, The 1975 swaps out their usual intro; one that has featured on every album, to make way for 17-year-old Swedish climate activist Greta Thunberg and a 5-minute monologue accompanied only by 1975-esque ambient music. Production is undeniably the loudest voice on the record, despite the swift transition into guitar-heavy, vocal-heavy, punky-rocky ‘People’. ‘People’ likely makes for one of the most interesting cuts of Notes, abandoning sugary notes laden with autotune and sax for a vocal performance more likeable to screamo. In simple words, Healy’s call for us to ‘Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!’ is perfect sonic embodiment of what Thunberg meant when she told us our house was on fire. It maybe doesn’t sound like The 1975, but it feels like The 1975 and ensures their everyday audience aren’t left bewildered.

‘The End (Music for Cars)’ is an oddly placed curtain call, but a pretty one nonetheless. Strings are definitely not something unheard of from The 1975, (and this interlude definitely does feel reminiscent of other interlude tracks you’ll hear on their previous albums, but this isn’t the last you’ll hear of it on this album.

Notes on a Conditional Form later proves itself to be a maze of sound, and often times, you don’t know where you’re headed with the next track, but ‘The Birthday Party’ is there to mellow you out before you dive in head-first to the experiment lab that is Notes. And while ‘The Birthday Party’ isn’t the most riveting, provocative track on the record by any means, led by an acoustic guitar with a country air to it, its lyrical content and glaring stream of consciousness makes it a site to revisit, much like its easy listening, Phoebe Bridgers’ featuring, cousin: ‘Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America’ featured later on the record.

“Live on Mars/Fuck it up”. While ‘Yeah, I Know’ is not a lyrical heavyweight, its house-redolent production renders it a fun, glitchy little track to listen to. ‘Frail State of Mind’s’ quieter, but more excitable little sister?

‘Then Because She Goes’ is the track that makes you realise that Notes needs to be listened to a few times to understand it. While the guitar can, in the beginning, seem abrasive; its partnership with auto-tuned sweet nothings on a piece about a bitter-sweet departure: ‘I wake up, love you, so love you, love’, gives it new life as an endearing, sonic representation of simultaneous pain, necessity and love we all feel in some break-ups. ‘Then Because She Goes’ almost suddenly, as some of our relationships do - but one thing to note [no pun intended] is that while Notes has its abrupt ends, but never dead ends.

On ‘Roadkill’, The 1975 sees your ‘self-indulgence’ and raises you ‘self-reference’. Lyrics here make allusions to ‘Robbers’ in the vain of previous releases such as ‘A Change Of Heart’, and succeeding track ‘Me & You Together Song’ which does a 180 on the instrumentals of this song. ‘Roadkill’ is simple, slightly facetious, has its political references [it is The 1975], but is outstanding on this record; especially with its soft, creamy runs by Healy: ‘I’ve been waiting for you/My whole life waiting for you’.

Premiered on BBC Radio 1′s ‘Hottest Record’, ‘Me & You Together Song’ is straight sugar pop, 80′s inspired, perhaps enough to rot your teeth off. Audiences familiar with The 1975 maybe had to carry a dictionary around with them to understand what Healy was saying on previous records, but the ever-morphing production on Notes is intrinsically its own language. The 1975 doesn’t overcomplicate thing this time round, and Healy doesn’t actively avoid cliches. Lyrics like ‘I had a dream that we had kids’, reassure that the record wasn’t made to feel like a particular idea, but it was made to feel authentic. Despite the 80′s touch, ‘Me & You Together Song’ and Notes lives in the present day.

Finding themselves accompanied by a choir once again, ‘Nothing Revealed/Everything Denied’ feels like ‘If I Believe You’ reimagined for 2020 and the current social landscape. This album can at times feel repetitive, sometimes, not of itself; but previous album cycles. However, one thing that The 1975 is without a doubt good at, is production that is faithfully, brutally The 1975 - that feels, all at the same time, feels like something completely brand new.

‘Tonight (I Wish I Was A Boy)’ is a funky, mellow R&B-inspired track that is an absolute essential to exploring the world of Notes.

‘Shiny Collarbone’ is an ineffable interlude track, all I can say is, you wouldn’t be daft if you’d thought Jamie xx had a production credit. Cutty Ranks feature you completely forget you are listening to are listening to The 1975 album, as tospy-turvy as it is.

There isn’t much to say about ‘If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know) that hasn’t already been said. The 1975 borrow singer FKA Twigs’ vocals for this track, which with its glamorous saxophone, and modernist lyrics about FaceTime sex, almost feels like the pinnacle of pop music in the current era. Notes has definitely been the most polarising record that The 1975 have released to date, but there is nothing mistakable about the pop perfection that is this track.

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stars-and-rose · 6 years

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Sanders Sides Marching/Concert Band! AU

So about two weeks ago I made a shit post about me procrastinating writing Cursed Kingdom and making a band AU instead.

Well it happened. And I'm highkey living for it.

As for Cursed Kingdom, I'm halfway through writing the next chart! I also have my notes all ready for the next part of Heart Point.

With all that said, enjoy!

Marching/Concert band AU!

Flutist/Head Section Leader! Roman

* The rest of his section are all girls

* And they all (platonically) love Ro

* Freshman year, someone made a bitchy comment about Ro being the only guy and the section leader fucking decked them

* Roman became a section leader junior year and aspires to be as badass as the section leader his freshman year

* Loves marching, but is better at concert

* Like, Ro impressed Thomas with his marching pieces, but damn ask Ro to play fast dramatic or slow passionate concert pieces and he'll steal your heart

* Can also play guitar

* Has been trying to convince Thomas to let him join strings on guitar and Thomas patiently reminds him strings doesn't work like that

* Romans also a choir kid

* Once the band was at a game and the person who was supposed to sing the National anthem got sick and Thomas made Ro do it

* Ro paints his nails before concerts; he loves how the color looks against his flute when he's playing

* The flutes have a tradition where they put glitter on their faces (cheekbones) for football games

* Ro is the best at doing the glitter and all the girls make it do it for them

* Buys his section lunch on the last day of band camp

* Bitches about the tan lines he gets from his flip-folder

* Screamed for a solid ten minutes when he learned they were doing a Disney teamed show sophomore year

* Has made it for regional sand was first alternate for all-states Junior year (he was livid)

* Wears his varsity jacket all the time: he got it freshman year for lacrosse and got band added Junior year and he loves it

* Wants to go for music education and be a high school band/choir director

* Now as a senior, Ro is head section leader and has his hands on the school's singular piccolo (everyone is doomed)

Saxophonist/Equipment Manager! Virgil

* Virgil can play alto, tenor and barry sax with the same ease, but prefers tenor

* He has a little storm cloud pin on his saxophone strap

* His section is relatively small and he likes it that way

* Virgil helped so much with getting people's instruments on the truck and lugging cases around, Thomas gave him to the position of equipment manager halfway though sophomore marching season

* Once, some left their trombone on the truck and it was ten o'clock at night and Vee wanted to go home so he stormed into the band room and screamed "WHOEVER'S TROMBONE IS ON THE TRUCK THEY BETTER COME FUCKING GET IN BEFORE I SHOVE THEIR SLIDE UP THEIR ASS!"

* Safe to say that everyone was very careful about getting their instruments off the truck afterwards

* Virgil's speciality is Jazz

* Improv? Virgil can blow your mind. All his anxieties seem to vanish when he plays

* Expect for during auditions

* His first audition, he had a panic attack in the room and had to leave

* Thomas fought tooth and nail for Virgil to be able to audition again and stayed in the room with Vee during the audition to prevent another attack

* Made all-State jazz Junior year

* Also plays piano

* Once told everyone he wrote a song and proceeded to go up to the piano and angrily smash buttons and then bowed and said thank you

* Everyone thought he was for real and it was an actual, extremely Improvised, song

* Virgil wears his Letterman once in a blue moon, he prefers his hoodies. His Letterman only has band because physical activity? G r o s s

* Always has sunscreen/bug spray during band Camp because he burns so easily and bug bites eww

* Learned a bunch of meme songs and can play them by heart

* Wants to go for Music Therapy

* Senior year, Virgil head Equipment manager and has two sophomore helpers

Trumpeter/Head Librarian! Logan

* Logan has a fucking gift he's always in tune like h o w

* He's always loud you, can always hear him play

* Thomas- "Whoa guys who hit that A?"/"Who missed that note a fumbled for a measure?"

* The whole ass trumpet section- "LOGAN"

* Logan became assistant librarian as a sophomore

* He convinced the head librarian and Thomas to let him redo the library and he went wild

* Gets pissy went people keep losing music "God damn it Rebecca I got you a copy of this yesterday."

* The freshman make Virgil/Roman or (usually) Patton go get music for them because Logan scares them shitless

* His flip folder is so organized, he always can get to the right song within ten seconds flat

* Always on step. A l w a y s.

* Like everyone checks his feet to see if they're on step; the band has a conspiracy that Logan is a robot- because its impossible to be that onstep 24/7

* Plays French horn for concert

* He would play trumpet for concert but there's a single French horn and Thomas needs a section

* For districts, he dual auditions on both instruments

* He's better at trumpet but since there's like five French horns he makes it on French horn every year, made regions Junior year

* Spends most of band camp in the library because 1) lets get all the music we'll ever need copied and 2) air conditioning

* The best at Music Theory

* Only wears his Letterman at festivals, he claims its so the others can find him but it's really because he's smug. Also has track on it because Lo’s a firm believer that exercise is good for your brain

* Wants to study the effects of music on the human brain

* As senior, he runs the library and has a junior and sophomore helper

Percussionist/ Drum major! Patton

* Everyone loves Patton; he's the nicest drum major they've ever had

* The freshman all flock to him

* Walks around to all the sections, offering any help he can

* Always carries water around in case someone needs it, especially during parades

* Once, someone passed out during Band Camp due to dehydration. Patton angrily lectured the entire band about the importance if drinking water. There was a PowerPoint involved.

* Patton pep talks the band before every performance

* Before becoming drum major, Patton played snare drum for marching

* You bet your bottom dollar that he had light-up drumsticks (they exist I promise)

* He wrote a cadence sophomore year, the percussion section performs it all the time

* Has a journal filled with music-related puns

* Sometimes lets Roman glitter his face, the flute section has highkey adopted Patton as an honorary member

* For concert, Patron plays Mallets

* He also plays violin

* He also dual auditions for districts on violin and mallets

* Makes regional band on mallets, and all-state orchestra on violin

* His violin case has stickers all over it. Right near the handle is a crown, a lightning bolt, a book and a heart sticker- it reminds him of his friends all eases his nerves before auditions

* Has a scrapbook of all is band memories, he started it in freshman year

* Wears his Letterman at games- it's a size to big (he ordered it that way on purpose), because it's really warm

* Wants to become a composer

* Currently as a senior, head drum major with an assistant who's a junior. I really just love drum major Patton let me have this

Band Director! Thomas

* 10/10 stressed

* It's his fifth year directing the school's band

* Honestly he loves the boys

* They're probably his most talented players

* HE JUST WISHES THEY STOPPED GIVING HIM HEART ATTACKS ON A DAILY BASIS

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atcostmag · 5 years

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Magdalena Bay - Venice

“Venice” is the latest number from Californians Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin, a breezy, sun-kissed chant from the electro pop duo Magdalena Bay. On the track, a dreamy cascade of its shimmering production is complimented by Mica’s youthful squeak as her crystalline resonance refracts the chime of its punchy percussion. A not-too-serious single to deal with the summer heat, Magdalena Bay had this to say about “Venice”

“We wanted it to be a chill indie pop tune with an undercurrent about the world possibly ending. We tried to inject a little weirdness in there. Our own experiences of walking down the Venice Beach boardwalk probably helped with that. I think this one makes us real Californians.”

You can follow-up with Magdalena Bay’s trippy kitsch with previous video “Mine” alongside air-conditioned anthem “Venice”:

“Mine”

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“Venice”

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#magdalena bay #mica tenenbaum #matthew lewin #music

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brownjet-archive · 5 years

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midnight dances + ticket stubs

pairing: peter parker x reader (poc and strongly hinted that is latina)

wc: 8000+

summary: an interrupted moment seems to be more nuclear than you or peter could have imagined.

warnings: angst, some language, some heavy making out at the end but no smut, mentions of sex

a/n: so, it’s literally taken me a year to write this, i started this at the end of my last school year and a lot of shit happened since then so i finally got around to writing it, and holy shit it’s the longest one shot i’ve ever written

takes place after homecoming and is canon divergent !!

You were immensely regretting your decision to come to school on the last day. There was nothing to do, and hardly anyone in school. All the teachers seemed to have rolled their eyes, probably annoyed that 20 something students of the 2300 student body had shown up. Honestly, the only reason you had come was because Peter, Ned, and MJ said they would.

There was absolutely nothing to do. You had already emptied your locker, a few weeks ago because you were so done with school, and so had they, and you shifted from lounging in the library, running through the hallways and chilling in Mr. Harrington’s room.

You sitting in the library on one of the comfortable and plushy chairs, your legs draped over MJ’s lap, resting one elbow on the back of the bench, resting your face in the palm of your head, as the four of you lounged, contently listening to nostalgic music from the 2000′s, and suddenly you felt old.

The three of you laughed at the mortified look on Peter’s face, his face going red as a tomato, as the next song on his spotify played, as the familiar tune of the High School Musical number began. Despite laughing, you began singing along softly, ignoring the MJ’s snort.

“Not to be fake, but we’re soaring. flying. there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach.” You said, singing along with the track, laughing as you were singing.

Your energy was infectious, because by the end of the song, rather than just you singing softly under your breath, you had all joined in and were practically belting what was practically the anthem of your childhood. You had never really thought about it before, but it was pretty fucking awesome that the biggest couple growing up had been an interracial couple.

Before the song had ended, MJ had swiped Peter’s phone, now dubbing you in charge of the music, a smug smile on her face hoping that some embarrassing song played.

You rolled your eyes at her, quickly unlocking your phone, and putting on spotify, rolling your eyes as you clicked to watch the ad for the 30 minutes of uninterrupted listening, the four of you waiting in awkward silence for, the three of them waiting to make fun of your music tastes.

To your relief, your spotify seemed to be in a good mood, and decided to play, your body immediately relaxing at the soothing voice of Jason Mraz, Ned and you immediately beginning to sway to the music.

You hadn’t noticed the lovesick look on Peter’s face as he stared at you as you sang at the level that you thought was soft, your shoulders moving to the music, as it transitioned into what you had called the hispanic anthem Vivir Mi Vida.

You looked happier than you had been in months, a smile on your face, reaching your eyes. Sprawled across one of your best friends, looking truly happy. You were beautiful, really.

You slowly lowered the volume as the song died out, looking over at them, asking what the plan was, even though you guys had pretty much already decided that you would go to the corner store Mr. Delmar’s by your house, because it was the closet to Mr. Delmar’s, and you guys would buy sandwiches and ice-cream. However you would get candy and smartfood popcorn at the CVS by your school because it was cheaper, and there was a 90% chance that CVS would have them, as opposed to the 90% chance that Mr. Delmar would have run out by now.

You checked your phone, standing up, helping Ned up from the beanbag cushion he was sitting in, and all of you gathered your emptied out backpacks and even though there was still an hour and a half of school left, you decided to go say bye to Mr. Harrington for the summer, before leaving the building. You and MJ laughed at Ned who seemed to be elated with breaking the rules, though in relief you felt the same nervous and ecstatic butterflies in your stomach.

The four of you jogged across the street, waving a slight thanks at the drivers, despite the fact that a few honked at you, as you reached the CVS, walking in, immediately thankful for the air conditioning inside the building. The four of you walked towards the chips aisle with purpose, grabbing two of the big bags of the smartfood popcorn, before wandering towards the candy, grabbing a large pack of twizzlers, some sour gummy worms, a bag of skittles, a bag of the CVS brand soft caramels, a bag of marshmallows, and a packet of double stuff oreos, happy that you had nutella at home for the oreos and marshmallows, even though eating marshmallows with nutella was a pretty hard feat.

You each grabbed a can of Arizona, and headed up towards the cashier, before each of you pulled out some cash. You took your Arizona and put it in one of the cupholders of your bag, and you volunteered to carry a bag of popcorn, as did Peter.

You checked your phone, your eyes narrowed, ignoring MJ and Ned’s bickering about being able to open the twizzlers now, before you gripped at the closet limb of any of them, surprised when you accidentally groped Peter’s suprisingly strong bicep. You ignored it however, your eyes widening, as you again tugged on his bicep, yelling out, “The train is gonna be there in two minutes.”

The four of you sprinted towards the stop by the school, flipping off the drivers who honked at you, as you all rushed towards the stop, all of you but Peter, heavily panting as you ran up the stairs of the station, while at the same time fumbling to reach your wallet for your metro card, and as you reached the platform as the intercom said the train would be arriving, which typically meant about slightly less than a minute more, you squatted slightly, resting your hands on your thighs even if you did know that it was bad and constricting your lungs or whatever.

You stood up as the train pulled into the platform, grateful for the wind it provided, even if it was a rather dry one, and you were pretty sure that your body was drenched with sweat. The four of you stepped in, and because it was pretty much the middle of the day, the car was relatively empty and you all sat together, but far enough apart to rest your bags on the seats next to you, talking throughout the twenty minute train ride on which movie you guys should watch.

“No, we are not watching Star Wars again!”

“Star Trek?”

“Peter!”

“I know, I know. The Matrix.”

“MJ, no. Just no.”

“Disney?”

“Hell no.”

You all bickered for about fifteen minutes, before Ned suggested Galavant, and all of you nodded, agreeing that it would be fun to re-watch Galavant for a third time in 3 months. You all sluggishly stood up, exiting the air conditioned train, the stench of urine seeping through the air, and your face crinkled up in discomfort, even if you were used to the stenches of the city.

Peter guffawed at your expression, booping your nose, your eyes narrowing as you turned to glare at him, raising your fist rather jerkily, and his eyes widened in slight fear, before leaving it at that.

MJ hissed as you guys exited the station and walked into the sunlight, earning a weird look from you, although you had to admit that it was very bright.

“What are you, a fucking vampire?”

“Shut up.” She grumbled at you, looking as uncomfortable as you felt in the damp heat of the city. The four of you meandered towards the small establishment that Mr. Delmar owned, opening the door, the little bell ringing signaling that you had entered. The four of you offered slight smiles, you and Ned entrusting the other two to order the correct sandwiches as you walked towards the small cooler, looking at the limited, though not bad assortment of ice-cream, settling on a pint of cookies and cream and a pint of neopolitan. You petted both petted Murph, waiting for the sandwiches to be done before bringing the ice-cream to the front to avoid unnecessary melting.

Peter gave you guys a small nod, and you grabbed the ice-cream, bringing it up to the counter, offering Mr. Delmar a small smile, conversing with him in Spanish as he rung you up.

Thanking him, the four of you exited the small corner store and began the five minute trek to your apartment.

You sighed, a soft smile on your face as you checked the time, careful not to disturb MJ and Ned, who had fallen asleep. Sighing deeply at the fact that it was already one in the morning, the ice-cream and popcorn long gone. A few spare sour gummy worms remained still in the bag, sitting on your dresser, next to your comb. You sighed, of course Peter had bailed on you again.

Ignoring you frustration, you slowly got up, the weight of your bed shifting slightly, and you paused, your body hovering inches above the bed, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as they both continued to sleep soundly. You wandered over to your computer, the three of you having gotten bored of re-watching Galavant at the end of season one before deciding to watch the High School Musical films. They had fallen asleep somewhere between the first and second; you really didn’t care, continuing to watch anyways because the third was your favorite. A favorite song of yours was coming up, the one where Troy and Gabriella dance on the roof in the rain, but you knew that it cut off early before continuing on later, and instead you exited the tab, opening up spotify on the web browser, moving towards the window in your room, holding onto the computer with one arm waiting for the tab to load, while opening the window with one fluid motion, a cool summer night breeze wafting through your room.

You exited the window, sitting on the fire-escape, putting on your sappy romantic playlist reserved for nights like these. Nights were the city was peaceful, in spite of the loudness. Where the only noise was the whizzing of cars.

The nights where the city seemed calm and quiet and peaceful.

Each song seemed to make you feel more calm, your eyes gently closed, not because of the not-so-picturesque alley your fire-escape faced, but rather to keep you grounded yet free. It was an odd sensation, but it was the only sensation of pure serenity you ever felt.

At some point, rather than swaying to the music while softly humming along, your legs dangled off the platform. The cool metal grated section leaving angry marks on your thighs, despite the fact that they didn’t hurt, forcing you to stand up, resting your body on your arms against the railings. You inhaled deeply, the waft of the city seeping through your nose, which could often be described as unpleasant, but at this point you were used to it. The soft breeze ruffled your hair, goosebumps forming on the skin of your legs, your hands making their way to the pockets of your shorts, a moment of sleepy recognition as the one of your favorite songs from High School Musical, beginning to sing Gabriella’s part softly and passionately, too immersed in your own world to notice the presence that had joined you on the fire escape.

Peter felt bad. He really did. When he left, he could see the disappointment on your face and it hurt it to see you like that. He really hadn’t meant for it to take this long, but then again that’s what was expected of him as Spider-Man.

He swore loudly as he checked his phone, the battery dead and he had absolutely no inkling as to what time it was. It was definitely late, that he knew. Standing from the top of the building he was on, he shot his webshooter, only a meter or so of webbing escaping the mechanism, as it made an deflating noise. Great, just great. He was on the opposite side of the city, but he was determined to get back to your apartment and see you again.

Sighing, he asked KAREN where he should go, being advised to take the metro. He sighed, jumping down from the relatively small building, entering the relatively abandoned subway, before glancing at the clock seeing that it was half past midnight. He fished in his pocket for his metro card, waiting the four minutes for the train, before hopping on the train. Not really to his surprise, nobody really cared, the subway was practically deserted and the few other people on the train seemed to be going towards either Comic-Con or home from their long strenuous work shift.

He had been planning on climbing into your room through the fire escape outside of your window, while you were sleeping and fall into the heap of you, Ned, and M.J. and just say that he came back a few minutes after they had fallen asleep because May needed his help with something. But of course, it was just his dumb luck that you were sitting on the fire escape, with your legs hanging off, your hair blowing gently in the dry wind. Your mouth was slightly ajar, your eyes closed, and he felt his mouth go dry. Your hair seemed to catch the moonlight, creating a halo around you, and he swore that there was something ethereal about you.

Blinking out of his stupor as a car whizzed past, looking at you quickly, noticing that you hadn’t moved. Well, this made his job a little harder. He had to instead climb to the top of the building, and took off his mask, sticking it into his backpack, which he had left at the top of the building earlier, relieved that it hadn’t vanished. As some semblance of a though of his secret identity popped into his head, he looked around, before taking off his suit and changing rapidly, before entering the apartment building through the little door at the top, accidentally having used his strength to rip off the doorknob. He felt a little bad, but didn’t really worry, using the spare key that he knew was under the doormat to let himself into the apartment, expertly making it through the foyer to your room without making a single sound.

He opened the door to your room, stifling a giggle at the way Ned and M.J. had practically fallen off the beds, the sheets and pillows on the bed precariously keeping them from falling off. He gently tossed his bag aside, landing with the others, as he took a few gummy worms which were on your dresser, making a face as he bit into one, never prepared for how sour they were. Despite that, he continued eating them, moving over towards your window, smiling at you.

The music slowly shifted into something that he recognized, not sure how he recognized it, and he was drawn to the window and defying his better judgement he quietly stepped onto the fire escape, admiring you as you swayed to the music, and as soon as you began singing, he knew instantly that it was a song from High School Musical 3, the words coming to him instantly, and for some odd reason, he envisioned the dance moves in his head.

Without realizing, he began singing Troy’s part at the first entrance, and you whipped around, confused, staring at him. Your subconscious seemed to react quicker than your brain could process, as your hand rested on his shoulder, the other gripping his hand, with his other hand wrapped around your waist. The two of you continued to sing along to the song, even knowing the dance moves despite the small amount of space there was on the small landing.

It was as if you were in a trance, unaware of the world around you, both of you immersed completely in each other, the entire wold standing still. It was just the two of you in that moment, and you giggled brightly each time he lifted you up, and in response his face would light up, a small goofy grin stretching across his lips, his brown eyes full of admiration.

You felt completely safe as he dipped you, and slowly pulled you up, your face flush with his neck in a moment of intimacy, and from then on you danced closer, singing the words softly to one another, his breath fanning over your face.

The music slowly became less important, and rather you two were caught in this moment, his hands resting on your waist, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, instinctively running through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, a slight shiver running through his body at the feeling of your hands in his hair.

It felt like his insides had turned to mush, and he wasn’t sure that he was actually standing, or rather that he was actually awake. He smiled at you, his warm brown eyes full of admiration, making your skin tingle slightly, as you licked your lips slightly, the both of you still swaying to the soothing voice of Elvis, before you both eventually stopped swaying altogether, staring into each other’s eyes, because for this moment it was only the two of you.

You hadn’t noticed that the song had tapered off without another one following, despite the fact that there were at least five more songs on the playlist, completely unaware of the fact that your laptop had just died, because the only thing you were aware of was Peter.

His soft hair, his soft eyes, his small crooked smile, his big ears, his small dimples, everything about him. You were completely aware of him, feeling so utterly and helplessly enamored with him.

He felt as if his heart was going to burst. Here you were, in his arms, so close to him that he was sure you could hear how loud his heart was beating. You looked so beautiful with your hair catching the moonlight and the way your eyes shined brightly, which slowly seemed to be closing as your face got closer to his.

His eyes started to droop slowly as his face moved closer to yours. You licked your lips out of habit, the spell of calm and excited intimacy still palpable in the air, as your faces seemed to get closer together, his breath fanning over your face, feeling the ghost of his lips on your own.

And like that the spell was broken.

A loud snore emitted from someone from inside the room, startling both you and Peter, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, the both of you suddenly aware of your position.

His hands immediately left your waist, as if somehow your touch had burned him, an uncomfortable sensation of pain filling your chest. Your face immediately fell, and he instantly regretted his movement, glad when your turned away from him, as he rubbed his face in frustration, feeling the urge to scream.

You let out a shaky exhale before entering your room, not looking back at Peter, who had climbed in after you, closing the window behind him, lying down between MJ and Ned, while you tried to keep yourself as far away from him as possible, the both of you lying silently in the darkness for the rest of the night.

You had been avoiding Peter for days. That technically wasn’t so long, especially with school ending so there was no reason to see him everyday, but prior to the incident you had made plans as a group to hang out. That technically wasn’t so long, but as day five of not even texting Peter, you felt an ache, a pain in your chest at not being able to see him.

You hadn’t even texted the group chat, only sending an individual text to MJ saying that you had come down with a bug that your brother had given to you. It was true, to an extent, but it hadn’t taken you out of commission for five days; it had barely done so for five hours. But, it was enough for MJ to pass the message along, and you hadn’t been bothered for the remainder of the week, as you tried to do anything that would stop your brain from overanalysing the would-be kiss you had with Peter.

Besides, there was no way that it could’ve possibly happened, because why on earth would Peter kiss you? Why would he ever like you back? And, if it almost happened, what caused his momentary lapse in judgement?

Whatever. Shut up.

There was no point to speak to yourself in that way, because you desperately knew that that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that you couldn’t believe Peter wouldn’t want to kiss you, because frankly you were awesome and if it was a momentary lapse in judgement then it was proof that Peter Parker was a fake-ass bitch who didn’t deserve your friendship.

Even pretending to be mad at him was exhausting. It left you feeling hollow, no matter how much you willed yourself to believe that it wasn’t just you who had wanted that kiss, because of the stupid voice in your head saying that if he had wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him, that it would have happened, interruption or not.

You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, tears prickling at your eyes as a chocked sob escaped your throat, feeling the descent into despair all over again. You desperately wanted to screech out, your hands cover your face in frustration; annoyed with how you couldn’t even talk to MJ about this because she wouldn’t be understanding of it, and you didn’t want to force her to take sides, annoyed with how affected you were by this, and by how much your stupid brain was causing you to feel so shitty.

You closed your eyes, burning still from the amount of tears that you had shed during the week, and carefully breathed in through your nose, before letting out a slow and shaky exhale through your mouth, feeling your heart rate lowering, resulting in feeling more grounded. You laid there for a few more minutes, taking slow breaths, your breathing becoming less shaky, and the wet trails on your cheeks beginning to dry, leaving the skin on your face feeling tight and cooler than you had felt before. You took a deep breath, before sitting up.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and grimaced. Your hair was disheveled, your skin looking ashen, and dark circles under your eyes very pronounced, with slightly puffy eyes. Thankfully, you truly did look sick, so your parents wouldn’t call you out on your bullshit. You looked away, and sighed in frustration, before opening the window slightly to let the room air out, and then left your room to go to the kitchen in search of food.

Peter felt like shit. He hadn’t seen you in nearly a week and felt so fucking horrible. He knew you, and your penchant for overthinking things, and the image of your fallen face when the moment had been broke; the look on your face falling being immediately replaced by one of surprise, disappointment, and worst of all, expectance, made him feel like shit.

He had been pacing the ceiling of his room explaining to a confused and a not-quite understanding Ned, who was watching him pace back and forth for the past forty minutes. It wasn’t that Ned wasn’t understanding, because he was, he just wasn’t understanding the situation.

“Wait, so what?” Ned asked again, maybe for the third time, the question beginning to grate on Peter’s nerves. “You were dancing on the fire-escape, almost kissed, you guys didn’t because MJ or I snored? That’s ridiculous Peter, you know I don’t snore.” He continued.

“Are you really that caught up in the semantics of it? Besides, dude, you snore so loudly.” Peter argued, rolling his eyes slightly.

“No I don’t, because I use...”

“Vicks, yeah.” Peter cut him off, slightly annoyed. “What is it about vicks that you, MJ, and (y/n) swear by?”

“It’s a person of color thing.” Ned replied nonchalantly, not focusing on Peter’s crisis anymore, continuing to work on the hogwarts lego set that had been abandoned since Peter had started having his rant. “I really don’t get it, didn’t you want to kiss (y/n)?”

“More than anything.” Peter whined out, his heart aching, wishing that he hadn’t chickened out, and had just kissed you.

“Then, ask her out!” Ned loved you and Peter to death, but it was becoming increasingly annoying how much you both tiptowed around your feelings for one another.

“It’s not that simple.” Peter tried to argue.

“Sure it is, gimme your phone.”

“What, why? What are you going to do?” Peter asked, reluctantly tossing his phone over to Ned.

“Just relax, I’m not gonna send it.” Ned said, waving off Peter’s worry, Peter settling over the rail of his bunk, looking down and over Ned’s shoulder at his opened instagram.

“You follow the Spider-Man official page?” Ned asked, looking over at Peter with a look of confusion.

Peter felt his ears heat up, a blush dusting over his cheeks. “Yeah...”He mumbled, trailing off. “They do a really good job though!” He said indignantly, feeling the need to defend himself.

“Don’t you run it?” Ned asked, a look of amused confusion spreading across his face, remembering something similar that Peter had mentioned.

“Um, no, my aunt does. I run the Thor official page.” He admitted quietly, causing Ned to snort before laughing completely.

“May runs the Spider-Man page?” Ned asked through laughs, trying to get clarification. “That’s adorable, she supports you, man.” He tried to be serious, he really did, but he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

“Shut up, didn’t you have a point to steal my phone?” Peter pouted, before immediately regretting it, seeing Ned’s eyes flash open in remembrance.

“Oh yeah, we’s gonna get you a date.” Ned said happily, moving his finger over to your name, before cringing. “I don’t know why I said it like that.”

“Dude I don’t even know why you say half of the things you say, because you say lots of stuff like that.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“Should I change the way I speak?” Ned asked, looking over at Peter as if his whole life was a lie.

“No dude, it’s fine. I was joking, I love the way you speak.” Peter reassured his best friend, feeling bad that he had led Ned to believe that he spoke in a weird way.

“It’s fine Peter, I was just playing.” He chuckled good-naturedly, a warm smile on his face.

His eyes widened again, the whole conversation having been derailed yet again. Peter groaned internally as Ned remembered, hoping that he would’ve derailed the conversation enough for Ned to not remember.

“Relax dude, I’m not gonna send it.” He said to a squirming Peter, as he typed out the text. Peter felt slightly relieved, letting out a gentle sigh, and closing his eyes briefly, waiting for Ned to finish.

“Okay so, here’s what I wrote, and don’t worry I haven’t sent it.” Ned reassured Peter, who’s eyes opened and focused on the phone screen in front of them both, letting Ned read it aloud, not comfortable to read the whole thing upside down and not wanting to sit down.

“You wanna go see Yesterday tomorrow at 6:15?” Ned read aloud.

Peter had been expecting more, and looked at him with a face of confusion. “That’s it?”

“That’s it, I mean that way it’s not really a date. It’s just you guys hanging out, so that there’s no outright way that you’re being rejected.” Ned explained. “Dude, you’re overthinking it.” He sighed, trying to reassure Peter, the anxious look on his face giving all of his emotions away.

“It’s a really good think Spider-Man has a mask that covers his whole face, because dude you can’t emote secretly.”

“Dude.”

Ned rolled his eyes at the look of mock offense written on Peter’s face. “So, when are you gonna send it?”

“Um, never.”

“No, you are. You’ve got nothing to lose. Seriously dude, on the list of high stake things that you face, this is such a low stake.” Ned said, trying to cajole and relax Peter.

“Except if she says no, that means she hates me.”

“That’s a reach. If she says no it’s probably because she’s still sick. MJ hasn’t let you know anything differently, right?”

“I don’t know, she hasn’t been in the group chat for days. The last text I got from her was a pigeon on the subway in despair.”

“Makes sense.” Ned said, nodding his head as the image popped into his mind. “Well, anyways dude, just send it. Are we still gonna make mac and cheese?”

“Yeah, Aunt May should be home soon with the stuff for it.” As soon as he said that, the clanging of the keys in the door sounded, and the door to the apartment could be heard opening.

“Boys, please come help put the groceries away!” May called out from the kitchen.

“Sure thing!” Ned called out.

“Need a minute.” Peter called out at the same time. He stood on solid ground for the first time in an hour, blood rushing to his head leaving him feeling slightly lightheaded. Now alone in his room, he glanced over at his phone, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before hitting send.

He then slipped his phone into his pocket and left to go help his Aunt and his best friend put away the groceries.

You were slightly startled as your phone buzzed, surprised that it wasn’t on silent. You continued chewing your spoonful of cereal, glancing over at the screen seeing the stupid icon of the group chat: peter with the big lips snapchat filter yelling at a fire hydrant. Having felt more stable after watching three episodes of Stranger Things, you reached over for the remote and paused.

You opened up your phone and clicked on the notification, taking you to the group chat. You skimmed the text from him, before sending back a simple “sure, i’m down” before unpausing the episode.

Peter nearly dropped the jar of squeezable jelly an inside joke with his aunt feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He wish he could’ve said that he didn’t rush for his phone to check if you had texted him back, but that would have been a lie. He opened his phone in record time, reading your text quickly. He kept on rereading it, looking at his phone for nearly a minute, before May threw a kitchen towel at him, hitting him in the face.

“I asked you to help, not look at your phone.” She teased.

It was then that Peter seemed to register your text, his eyes widening before frantically yelling at Ned, “What the hell does ‘sure i’m down’ mean?”

His nervous energy seemed infectious, and his shouting caused Ned to butterfingers the small bag of plums that May had gotten, turning to Peter with a look of annoyed confusion on his face. “Did you have to yell that at me? And, it means yes.”

“Hm, depends on the tone.” May interjected, causing a new wave of panic to wash over Peter.

“Well, what does it mean then?” He whined.

“What’s the context?”

“I asked (y/n) if she wants to see Yesterday with me tomorrow at the "15 showing.”

“And the response was ‘sure, i’m down’?” May asked to clarify. “Well, Peter then that means, ‘sure, i would like to watch that movie’. It’s not as complicated as you’re making it out to be.”

“Yeah dude, try to calm down a little. It’s (y/n), and it’s a movie that they have literally not shut up about. All the talk about ‘supporting brown people in western media,’ so it’s really a no brainer.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter nodded, the words resonating with him, and for the first time in over an hour he felt calm again.

That all immediately disappeared when May jokingly asked what he was going to wear on his date.

You were waiting at the theater, having already gone to the cvs to buy snacks to sneak in, and were currently waiting on the group to join you. You glanced down at your phone, and continued playing Tetris, looking up every so often to see if you could see them. You became anxious as it became 11:36, and still saw no sight of them. Normally MJ and Ned would’ve been here by now, with Peter being this late.

“Hey, you ready?” A familiar voice panted out, and you looked up from your phone to see Peter slightly out of breath, bending over and resting his hands on his knees.

“You know you’re supposed to put your hands up? You’re constricting your chest.” You said out of habit, a little embarrassed that you had said that, but feeling relatively okay at being around Peter for the first time in a week since the incident. “Yeah, but where’s MJ, and Ned. They didn’t bail on us, did they?” You asked, confusion seeping into your features.

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, confusion settling across his face briefly, before his expression changed into a panicked awkward. “Um, no they both had to bail.” He lied, lamely.

You regarded him with suspicion, your anxiety beginning to rise at the idea of sitting through a whole movie next to Peter, without the safety blanket of your other friends. You had no idea why he would lie to you, but couldn’t even focus on it. You just rolled your eyes, and shook your head, as if to shake all these thoughts from them. “Whatever. You got your ticket?” You asked.

“Yep.” He replied, showing it as proof.

“Cool, let’s go.” You said, the two of you walking over to the usher, not bothering with rushing since it was relatively new, so there would be a good twenty minutes of preview.

The usher handed you back your ticket stubs, and you both hopped onto the escalator, going up towards the rest of the theaters.

“You got the drinks?” You asked, it customary of Peter being the one to bring the drinks.

“Yep, you got the popcorn?” He asked.

You nodded briefly. “Also got chocolate.”

“Like, Hershey’s?”

“No, like the bougie Ghiradelli’s shit.”

The whole conversation felt very mechanical, and an awkward air surrounded the two of you, feeling unsure of what to say. So, you continued silently up the elevator, passing the concession stands.

“Hey, can you bring my bag to the theater? I need to use the bathroom real quick.” You asked, handing the bag to Peter who was nodding.

You rushed into the bathroom, took a piss, and washed your hands. After drying your hands, you felt the urge to screech and pull out your hair, not sure if you could truly sit through the movie, which sucked since you had really wanted to see it. You quickly opened instagram as you walked towards the theater, moving to check your messages. Only then did you realize that the message had been from Peter, individually. You had completely forgotten that the icon of the group chat was Peter’s own icon, and you had used it for the group chat because of how ridiculous it was.

You quickly found Peter in the theater, and moved towards the center middle seats that he had found for you, before standing up letting you briefly know that he had to go to the bathroom.

Great, ten minutes into hanging out with him and you guys had said maybe five things to each other, and the awkwardness had seeped in.

You were thankful when the theater darkened, Peter having slipped into his seat a few minutes ago. You quickly closed all the apps on your phone and lowered the brightness to the lowest setting, before focusing your attention back on the screen.

Once the movie ended, you turned to Peter, a big enthusiastic smile on your face. “Oh my god, I loved it! He was so adorable.” You gushed to Peter, a smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah, it was pretty awesome. But dude, Lily James out here being amazing as always.”

“Oh right, I forgot about your huge-ass crush on Lily James.” You teased.

“Oh, come on, you don’t think that she’s amazing?”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing slightly. “I do think she’s amazing, but she wasn’t the focus. It was about this dorky Indian dude, and I’m so down for more brown people in western media.” You gushed, the two of you moving out of the theater.

Peter chuckled softly at seeing you so happy, talking animatedly about the movie. “Can you hold my stuff?” You asked again, and he grabbed it for you as you entered the bathroom, and quickly came back out again.

You saw Peter on his phone, a small smile on his face, before you cleared your throat, announcing your presence in a rather stuck up way. “Hey, mind holding my stuff as I run to the bathroom?” He asked.

You nodded, grabbing his stuff from him. “No problemo.” You said in the most american accent you could, before opening up your phone for the first time since the movie had started, before quickly remembering what had happened earlier. A quick look of confusion flashed over your face as you crafted a text to MJ.

“Hey, so what do you wanna do now?” Peter asked, his presence drawing you away from your phone, forgetting that you needed to press send.

“I don’t know, I’m good with getting food, or do you wanna movie hop?” You asked, not really in the mood to be walking around the city just yet.

“I’m good with movie hopping.” Peter answered quickly.

“Cool, I know that they’re reshowing Cruel Intentions.”

“Didn’t they do that in March for the 25th anniversary or something?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah, but it was doing the really well so they’re bringing it back for the next few weeks, since there is kind of a dryspell of new movies coming out till early August. And it was the 20th anniversary.” You corrected.

“You sure seem to know an awful lot about this sex movie from the late nineties.” Peter teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and laughed at him, gently flicking his shoulder. “If you’re insinuating what I think you’re insinuating Parker, then you would be wrong. I have not seen it, but I wanna.”

“If you haven’t seen it, then how do you know so much about it, and why would you wanna watch it?” He asked, as you guys made your way to the theater diagonally three down from the previous theater you were in.

“Sarah Michelle Gellar.” Was your simple answer.

“Ah, your thirst for Buffy is once again the undoing of us.” Peter teased.

“Hey, my thirst for Buffy has nothing to do with the undoing of us as a group!” You cried out indignantly, despite the smile on your face. “My love for Buffy has brought us closer if anything, we’ve watched the entire series.” You said, as the two of you sat in the back of the theater, not wanting to take seats right in the middle and displace people who had paid for it.

“Twice.”

“Yes, because it’s a wonderful and amazing show. Besides, if anything is the undoing of us as a group then it would have to be you ditching us all the time.” You teased, the words immediately leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, wishing that you hadn’t said that.

The light and cheery, and normal air between the two of you had taken nearly two hours to cultivate, and had only came about by watching a movie. And you had managed to destroy it in a matter of a single sentence.

Peter’s face immediately fell, a look of shame and anger flashing across his face. “I’m not ditching you guys, I’m just super busy...”

“Right, Stark Internship and all.” You nodded, cutting him off in hopes of avoiding this conversation.

“Yeah, and I have a shit-ton of other responsibilities, like stupid fucking decathlon team, robotics team, and all the fucking homework we get.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling ridiculous that tears were prickling at the corners of your eyes. Decathlon team was how you and Peter became good friends. With a cold and calculated voice you said, “I don’t know why you’re yelling at me about this. It’s not like I can control what you have on your plate.” You took a deep breath before looking at him, your expression softening, replaced with worry. “I know you’re going through a lot, especially with Uncle Ben, but Peter, we can’t do anything, I can’t do anything to help you if you keep pushing me away.”

His face crumbled, and he reached for your hand, feeling a little hurt when you flinched slightly before he could do so. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve got a lot going on, and that’s not your fault and it’s not fair of me to take it out on you.” He apologized.

You nodded in understanding, before moving your hand to gently rest on top of his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “I forgive you, Peter.”

“I hope you know that I’m not ditching you.” He said softly, and you rolled your eyes with an incredulous look. “Well, not intentionally.” He corrected himself, and you smiled at him.

“I know.”

“May needs me a lot more, and I feel like I need to be with her more.”

You sighed, a small, sad smile appearing on your face. “That makes sense, Peter, but know that I’m here if you ever need anybody to talk to. And, you shouldn’t feel so guilty about not spending time with her.”

“I know, I just, don’t want to leave her alone and have what happened to Uncle Ben happen to her.” He said, his voice beginning to crack, as tears began prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“Peter, what happened to Ben wasn’t your fault.” You softly whispered to him, moving your hand from resting on top of his, to brushing away the single tear that had fallen from his eyes.

Oh, how wrong you were. And with that, the lights shut off and the movie began.

You inhaled sharply as Sarah Michelle Gellar kissed the boy onscreen, squirming in your seat, suddenly becoming uncomfortable at watching this with Peter in a theater with maybe only twelve other people. You had to look away, movie kisses always seemed to gross you out because it seemed like an invasion of privacy.

You glanced over at Peter who had also looked away, his face turning towards you, the both of your eyes widening as you communicated almost telepathically.

“What the fuck is happening?” You whispered, giggling nervously.

“I think Buffy is seducing her step-brother to get his car.” He whispered back.

“I mean, I know that, but that is not Buffy.”

“So says you.”

You paused for a moment, before moving your face closer to his, “Should we leave? If this is too much for wittle petew we can leave.” You teased, immediately regretting it, knowing that he would take it as a challenge to stay, despite the fact that you wanted to leave.

“No, I’m good, that is unless, you want to leave.” He whispered back, and you immediately shook your head.

“No, I can watch it.”

“Good.”

“Good.” You mocked, before turning back to the screen, the kiss having turned into what was a sex scene. You immediately looked away, your face whipping back towards Peter with widened eyes, and he immediately turned back towards you.

Your faces were closer than they were the time before, and you inhaled shakily, your eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips then back to his eyes, before swallowing slightly.

Immediately his lips were on yours, his hand coming up to cradle your face, your hands moving their way through his hair as you kissed him back as enthusiastically. You inhaled deeply, causing your nerves to feel like you were on fire, everything about the kiss, the way his hand gently yet firmly held your jaw, the way your lips moved against each other, the way his curls felt in your fingers, your fingernails gently scratching his scalp, the way his tongue languidly slid into your moth, the way it tasted like smartfood white cheddar cheese.

Wait, what?

You pulled away from each other, a perplexed expression on your face as you regarded him with a sense of enamored confusion.

“You taste kind of like the popcorn.” He whispered, as if you didn’t already know.

“Yeah, you do too. Kinda unpleasant.” You admitted softly, an offended look flashing across his face. “Oh!” Your face lit up in slight realization. “I have chocolate.”

You quickly turned away from him, reaching into your backpack for the chocolate squares of milk chocolate with caramel and sea salt that you had purchased, handing one to Peter.

He looked confused, but humored you, and opened the square biting into nearly half of it. He took another bite, much smaller than the last one, and before he could react, you had take then other piece from him, slipping it into your mouth, your lips on each others with not fully melted pieces of chocolate.

You couldn’t help but moan softly into the kiss, the taste of the chocolate being so much better than the popcorn taste. It was thicker, and richer, and the way your mouths moved against each other, the chocolate continue to melting in your mouths, coating your tongue, as you slipped it into Peter’s mouth. You lazily made out with him for a little bit, reveling in the delightful chocolate kiss, before Peter’s hand moved to your waist, gently pulling you even closer towards him.

You smiled into the kiss, trying to pull away so that you could put the armrest up, but he kissed you insistently, bringing both arms to rest on your waist, picking you up and pulling you over the armrest, placing you on his lap, his lips never leaving yours.

You situated on his lap, straddling him, feeling something move against your thigh, causing you to pull away from him, looking down, then back at him with an amused smirk on your face.

“It was the stupid movie.” He whimpered, feeling mortified that you had felt it.

“Don’t worry, I figured.” You reassured him, smiling at him, a goofy and euphoric smile appearing on his face as he looked at you. “You should know though, that I don’t have sex till the first date.” You joked, before pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

He had a delayed reaction, his eyes opening and lips unpursing a second after you had finished kissing him. “I was joking, I haven’t had sex yet, and I would expect a date before sex.” You told him, and even though you were serious, the light tone in which you had said it, made it fit.

“You don’t call this a date?” He teased, smiling at you, pulling you in for another kiss.

You kissed him deeply, your mouths parting as your lips moved against one another, the taste of chocolate still overpowering the kiss, and making your brain hazy, as you tried to pull away from him to answer.

“No, I call it a misunderstanding.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I thought you were asking in the group chat,” You admitted, before kissing him briefly, too long for a peck, but too short for the kisses that you had been having. “So, Parker, when you gonna grow the balls to ask me out?” You teased, kissing him again.

He pulled away from you, a goofy grin appearing on your face, which must have been similar to his own, his pupils blow out, his hair disheveled, his lips swollen and slightly shiny, making you guess about your current state. He stared at you briefly, before tickling your ribcage gently, a quieted laughter escaping you, before his lips were briefly on yours again.

“So, (y/n),” He began, placing a quick peck on your lips, “would,” peck, “you”, peck, “go”, peck, “out”, peck, “on”, peck, “a” peck, “date”, peck, “with”, peck, “me?” Suddenly, his lips were on yours again, firm and gentle, seeming to wipe away any semblance of a response.

He pulled away softly, your eyes remaining closed, before briefly fluttering open, the question that he asked you suddenly popping back into your mind. “Yes!” You whispered. “Yes, Peter I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Great.” He said, grinning up at you wildly, before languidly kissing you again.

You couldn’t wipe the goofy, lovesick, smile off of your face for the rest of the night, even after your little brother had made a comment about how you looked crazy. It hadn’t even registered in your brain, as you grabbed a glass of water before heading towards your room, smiling at the photo-booth photos you had of you and each individual member of your group.

If possible your smile grew bigger at seeing Peter’s, your lips still tingling, the taste of chocolate lingering on your tongue. Without thinking, you slowly brought your hand up to your mouth, gently touching your lips, ghosting over where Peter’s had been an hour ago. You pulled the ticket stub out of your phone case, where you had stuffed it, before placing it with the photos you had of Peter.

Your phone buzzed, and you giggled slightly, not hesitating to open the text from Peter.

thai tommorow?

yeah, that’d be awesome.

i fucking love thai

lmao i know, that’s why i asked

you’re kind of a perfect nerd, parker

thanks, i guess

you’re kind of a beautiful nerd

thanks perfect parker

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter x reader #peter imagine #spider-man x reader #spider-man imagine #peter parker #spider-man #spider-man: homecoming #mcu #mira writes #this has been in the works since May of 2018 dsnflksdlkgdslkgndlsnglkds #i'm kinda proud and really don't want this to flop so please for the love of god fucking reblog

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chocolateheal · 6 years

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How To Leave Best Black Female Singers 23 Without Being Noticed | best black female singers 23

There are a whopping eight acts in the chic this year, so to advice you accumulate them beeline (and maybe alike affect your accompany with your trivia skills), actuality are some capital things to apperceive about anniversary one.

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• That is her real name. “Dua” agency adulation in Albanian.

• Her parents are from Kosovo and she was built-in in London in 1995. Music runs in the family: Dad Dukagjin Lipa, a business manager, was the frontman of a Kosovar bedrock bandage alleged Oda. “I did a actualization in Kosovo two summers ago and me and my bandage absitively to abruptness my dad and sing it,” Lipa told Rolling Stone in 2018. “It was so surreal, because anybody in the admirers was singing along.”

• She got her alpha at 14 on YouTube, announcement videos of herself singing covers by her admired artists, such as Pink and Christina Aguilera (though she is additionally a apprentice of hip-hop), afore scoring a almanac accord with Warner Music Accumulation in 2015.

• Pre-full-time music jobs included clay for ASOS and alive as a hostess at a Mexican restaurant in London’s contemporary Soho district.

• Her self-titled admission album was appear in June 2017, which apparently fabricated her acceptable for Best New Artist last year… but bigger backward than never for the “New Rules” singer, who has opened for Bruno Mars, been the agreeable bedfellow on Saturday Night Live and can calculation Taylor Swift as a fan. She is additionally nominated for Best Dance Recording, for “Electricity.”

• Responding to aftermost year’s Grammys controversy, back Recording Academy President Neil Portnow said that women bare to “step up” if they capital to be added visible, Lipa told Rolling Stone, “Women are dispatch up. We aloof charge to be accustomed a chance. These men in ability should be acknowledging aggregate that’s happening, acknowledging equality, rather than saying,’You’re aloof not alive adamantine enough.'”

• Some of her cultural faves these days: Cardi B, Camila Cabello and Rami Malek’s achievement in Bohemian Rhapsody.

Rich Fury/Getty Images for iHeartMedia

• Her complete aboriginal name is Bleta and, like Dua Lipa, her ancestry is Albanian. Dad Flamur Rexha emigrated to New York, area he met her mom, Bukurije, who was built-in in the U.S. to Albanian parents. Bebe hails from Brooklyn and Staten Island.

• She additionally isn’t exactly new, accepting appear her aboriginal single, “I Can’t Stop Bubbler About You,” in 2014. But, her admission LP, Expectations, was a 2018 release—and amid the genre-blending advance all over the album, the song “Meant to Be” with Florida Georgia Line is additionally nominated for Best Country Duo/Group Performance. “I put so abundant blood, diaphoresis and tears into [Expectations],” Rexha told Billboard. “I was consistently afraid to absolution an anthology because I capital it to be so abundant and I’m such a perfectionist. It was the aboriginal allotment of assignment I put out that I was air-conditioned appreciative of.

• She wrote best of Expectations in the bathtub, absorption on the assessment a full-time music career takes on relationships. “For me, it’s one or the other,” she told Rolling Stone. “It’s either my music or love. Appropriate now, it’s all about my music.” Moreover, “I accept actual few but actual able friendships. FaceTiming is a advantage and actually important. It’s boxy but it comes with the territory.”

• Amid the abounding songs she’s had a duke in arch up to her own anthology release, she co-wrote the 2013 Eminem and Rihanna accord “Monster” and sang in Pete Wentz’s ancillary bandage Black Cards. Her aboriginal EP, I Don’t Wanna Abound Up, came out in 2015.

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• She fabricated her Grammys admission in 2018 as allotment of the rather august achievement of Kesha’s “Praying” additionally featuring Janelle Monae, Camila Cabello, Julia Michaels, Cyndi Lauper and Audra Day. Rexha said it was calmly one of the best defining moments of the year for her. “It was about the changeable movement and acknowledging anniversary other, and the bulletin for all the women in the music business as able-bodied as up and advancing artists… It was actual touching.”

Will Heath/NBC/NBCU Photobank

• The alone bedrock bandage in the agglomeration this year, the accumulation consists of singer Josh Kiszka, guitarist (and Josh’s twin) Jake Kiszka, bassist (and adolescent brother) Sam Kiszka, and bagman Danny Wagner. They got calm in their hometown of Frankenmuth, Mich., in 2012—but originally with, as these bedrock tales tend to go, with a altered drummer. Wagner came on lath in 2017.

• Their name was advancing by a adolescent Frankenmuthian, Gretna Van Fleet.

• They’re additionally nominated for Grammys for Best Bedrock Album, for their EP From the Fires; Best Bedrock Song, for “Black Smoke Rising”; and Best Bedrock Performance, for “Highway Tune.” “We didn’t alike apperceive back the Grammys were or back they would be announced, because as a new band, we generally accede awards agee or ample adjoin the odds,” Sam Kiszka told Vulture.

• Their admission flat LP, Anthem of the Peaceful Army, was panned so adamantine by Pitchfork, the October 2018 analysis became a abnormality in itself. It begins: “Greta Van Fleet complete like they did edger actually once, alleged the cops, and approved to almanac a Led Zeppelin album afore they arrested themselves.”

• As it turns out, they admonish Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin as well. The British accompanist said GVF sounded like “Led Zeppelin I” back asked what accustomed bands he was adequate in 2018.

• Asked about the acrid Pitchfork review, Sam Kiszka told Vulture, “I don’t apperceive the absorbed abaft the piece. I haven’t apprehend it. I’m not abiding if it’s a advertisement aggravating to get absorption or if it’s somebody who actually doesn’t like us and what we’re doing. I actually don’t anticipate we get formed up about that, because here’s one actuality who’s accusatory about it. If you can’t do it, again you aloof address about it. I feel like this man has had a afflicted past. Prayers up for him. But it actually feels actually good, because some of our admired bands accept had some appealing advancing criticism. I anticipate it’s cool.”

• Jeremy D. Larson, who wrote the review, tweeted out that accent passage. And back addition actuality added, “You saw your parents gunned bottomward in an alleyway, and that’s back you absitively to become a music critic,” Larson replied, “Also I can ‘do’ I played sax in a funk-rock bandage alleged Resurrected Grooves and we were to Incubus what they are to Led Zeppelin so aloof goes to actualization anybody sucks.”

Kevin Mazur/WireImage

• The Bailey sisters are from Atlanta, area their ancestor accomplished them about the anatomy of songwriting. Chloe is earlier by two years. At 20 and 18, they’re the youngest nominees in the Best New Artisan category.

• Beyoncé knows. Queen Bey was angry assimilate YouTube brilliant sisters Chloe and Halle Bailey—who launched their approach with a awning of “Best Affair I Never Had”—in 2015. She active them to her Parkwood Entertainment label and featured them, forth with Serena Williams, Zendaya and added badass women, in her epic Lemonade. Michelle Obama again best them to accessible for her at her 2016 South by Southwest Keynote appearance.

• Chloe x Halle’s bigger breach yet was aperture for Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s On the Run II Tour, and now their admission album, The Kids Are Alright, is competing against Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s The Carters for Best Urban Contemporary Album.

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• Halle told Essence, “We still feel like we’re absent about the Grammy nominations. We’re consistently grateful, and we apperceive that no added bulk what happens, this honor, it will break with us for the blow of our lives—and it aloof inspires us to accumulate going.”

• You can additionally bolt the sisters on ABC’s Grown-ish with Yara Shahidi.

Lester Cohen/Getty Images for BMG

• The country accompanist already has two flat albums beneath her belt, 2016’s Midwest Farmer’s Daughter and 2017’s All American Made (both appear by Jack White’s Third Man Records) and had been recording and arena for a decade afore that, so Price was a little afraid back her name was called. “I’ve watched the Grammys back I was a kid,” she told Pitchfork. I’ve dreamed about actuality there as continued as I can remember. I was avidity myself.”

• And she’s air-conditioned with the category. “It’s a cliché, but I’m aloof accustomed to be nominated. I think, and actual me if I’m wrong, I ability be the alone indie artisan in that category. So I ability be ‘new’ because I’m still on a abate label. I don’t know, but I’ll booty it.”

• Back she aboriginal confused to Nashville, she took all sorts of jobs to get by, including cat-and-mouse tables at a abode alleged The Flying Saucer. “I fabricated a acceptable bulk of money, but all the girls had to abrasion Catholic babe outfits,” Price told People. “It was affectionate of degrading.”

• All American Made features actual agitating letters about the advancing chains of women and basically anyone disturbing financially in this country. “I apperceive that the anthology didn’t affect everybody,” the Aledo, Ill. (pop: 3,640 in 2010) native told Pitchfork. “I’m abiding it fabricated added organizations shy abroad from me. So it actually agency a lot that the Recording Academy is advantageous absorption and digging what I’m doing.”

• She’s abundant and due in May! (She alleged herself “in acceptable company,” cerebration about Beyoncé assuming in 2017 while abundant with twins.) Price and bedmate Jeremy Ivey are additionally parents to son Judah, who was built-in in 2010. He was a twin, but his brother, Ezra, died two weeks afterwards they were built-in from a attenuate affection action that anaplasty couldn’t fix. “Nobody should anytime lose a child; I would never ambition that aloft my greatest enemy,” Price told NPR in 2016. “It was article that was actually adamantine for us to get through, but we fabricated it, somehow.”

• Price fell into a abasement and started bubbler heavily afterwards accident Ezra, at one point catastrophe up in bastille for three canicule afterwards a asperous night. She credits Ivey with allowance her through that aphotic period. “When you lose a adolescent you cope differently,” she told People. “I anticipate it’s amazing that our alliance lasted afterwards that because the statistics are not in our favor. But he’s been there appropriate beside me.” She has a boom on her larboard shoulder, a t

Jerritt Clark/Getty Images for MWP Entertainment Group

• Her date name stands for “Having Aggregate Revealed,” and her complete name is Gabriella Wilson. She goes by Gabi.

• A adolescent piano prodigy from Vallejo, Calif., Wilson was featured on Today when she was 10 accoutrement Alicia Keys, who is hosting the 2019 Grammys. In fact, the two accept accustomed anniversary added for a decade, and Keys told the AP in 2018, “I saw H.E.R. developing as an artist, and she actually had this affair about her that was so agitative because it was such austere musicianship. And again fast forwarding now, X bulk years later, to area she is now and seeing that all appear together, I anticipate the adorableness of that is the actuality that she was actually able to booty her time and be an artisan and advance and be a adolescent girl. Her eyes and her afterlife accept consistently been on this abode and bare to acreage in this world. And it’s alone activity to get brighter, bigger and better.”

• Rolling Stone had the shrouded-in-mystery singer on its 10 New Artists You Charge to Apperceive account in March 2017, calling H.E.R. custom-built for admirers of Aaliyah and Solange.

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• She’s the alone Best New Artisan appointee who is additionally up for Anthology of the Year, for her self-titled debut; as able-bodied as Best R&B Album; Best R&B Song, for “Focus”; and Best R&B Performance, for “Best Part,” featuring Daniel Caesar.

• Wilson, who’s 21, has said that she afraid about not actuality taken actively back she aboriginal started out because of her age, so she didn’t acknowledge abundant about herself, or alike actualization her face. But she told the AP in November 2018, “I’m so beholden that at this point, alike if you see my face or apperceive who I am, it doesn’t matter, because you already adulation the music. You’ve already accustomed it.”

Joseph Okpako/WireImage

• The singer-songwriter hails from the automated boondocks of Walsall in England’s West Midlands. Her father, who’s from Jamaica, sang in a neo-soul accumulation called 2nd Naicha, and consistently encouraged her. “Sound has consistently followed me. A lot of reggae back mum was cooking. I’d address songs with my dad or comedy him annihilation I’d formed on,” she told The Cut in 2018. I wrote my aboriginal abounding song back I was 11, alleged ‘Life Is A Aisle Worth Taking,’ about block the appropriate path. They are consistently assuming me new stuff. My dad texts me links to new being all the time.” She took off for London at 18 and formed at Starbucks while aggravating to accomplish it as an artist.

• Which she did. Her admission single, “Blue Lights,” went viral on SoundCloud; Drake gave a shout-out to her second-ever single, “Where Did I Go?” in Entertainment Weekly; and again it was off to the races. He slid into her DMs, and she’s the Jorja in catechism on his “Jorja Interlude” from More Life. She didn’t appetite to be on “Get It Together” at first, but then she and her admirer bankrupt up and all of a abrupt it fabricated faculty to her. (No, she and Drake accept never dated.)

• Smith told The Cut that she grew up consistently absent to attending altered than she did. “I capital to be pale,” she said. “I didn’t wanna go in the sun, because I was in academy with a lot of white girls. I bethink one babe said to me, ‘You attending bigger pale.’ And I was like, ‘Well, you’re tan!’ She was like, ‘It’s not the same.’ I didn’t wanna accept a bum, I didn’t wanna accept lips.”

• Her admission album, Lost & Found, came out in June 2018, and she sings “I Am” on the Anthology of the Year-nominated Black Panther soundtrack.

Erika Goldring/WireImage

• The North Carolina native’s admission album, This One’s for You, has been certified platinum and was named Billboard’s Top Country Anthology of 2018. So abrogation academy aloof shy of graduation to try and accomplish it in Nashville did prove to be the appropriate choice. And alike if it hadn’t, “I would be accomplishing this in some capacity, whether I was accustomed or a complete nobody,” Combs told Forbes in December 2018.

• His song “Beautiful Crazy” is about his fiancée, Nicole Hocking. “I wrote it about my now-fiancée afore we started dating,” Combs told Forbes. He popped the catechism in November. “I anticipate it was a first-time affair for me as far as accepting that complete afflatus for a song. It’s fun and it’s lighthearted, but it additionally has a message: you’re declared to adulation addition for who they are. That was the abstraction back we wrote the song. There ability be things that are arbitrary or awe-inspiring about somebody, but sometimes, those are the things that draw you to that person.”

• Combs has gone from arena restaurants and confined to festivals and theaters and he is above beholden for the acknowledgment from fans, as able-bodied as the analytical acceptance from his peers, which so far includes a CMA Award for New Artisan of the Year. “To go from arena a craven addition restaurant in Asheville, the Wild Addition Cafe, to affairs out PNC Music Pavilion in Charlotte area I acclimated to go see concerts back I was a kid is actually mind-blowing,” he told Forbes. “Having 20,000 bodies buy tickets, that is batty to me.” As for the Grammy nomination, “It’s an complete account and doesn’t alike assume like article that can appear to somebody like myself. There are things that back you abound up lower average chic that assume actual unattainable or unreachable. Goals that you anticipate would be absurd to hit or could never appear to you and that is one of those things.”

May they all accept a night to remember.

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