#ella fitgerald

[loveboatinsanity]

[jollyfunvoid]

Bucci gang headcanons

Bruno Bucciarati

-Wes Andersson fan (his comfort movie is Grandhotel Budapest)

-fave era is roaring 20s (aesthetic & music wise)

-listens to electro swing, swing, jazz and blues

-has a very strong sweet tooth. His cravings are so extreme he is able to eat whole giant chocolate on one go and not gain a single kilogram. His favorite ice cream is stracciatella and his go to dessert is tiramisu. If you wanna bribe him, use sweets

-loves Golden Girls (Sofia is his favorite character)

-hardcore Eurovision fan, always prepares for the Eurovision weeks in advance, it's like a holiday for him

-brings small camera with him everywhere he goes, gets very emotional and sentimental when taking pictures, loves to keep all the memories

-shares an old record player with Abbacchio, they collects vinyl records together

-in charge of shared Netflix and Disney+ account

-has an ornamental lower back tattoo which matches the one he has on his chest. Has a lot of tattoos all over his body in general

-is very good at sailing and has a captain's licence. As a kid he used to be obsessed with pirates, he still lowkey fantasizes about life at sea

-surprisingly a very good dancer and hella skilled belly dancer. He is also very flexible

-Caterina Caselli number 1 fan

-drinks a lot of coffee, never starts a day without a cup of cappuccino

-obsessed with candles

-as a kid he used to build wooden ship models with his dad. Now as an adult he still does it sometimes, when he is not too busy

-bought himself a sewing machine because he is really into fashion and wanted to start making his own clothes. Isn't very good at it tho, his sewing skills are poor, so he always ends up zipping everything up with his stand and then acts like that's how the "sewn" piece is supposed to look like

-has a sweet melodic laugh

-extremely flirty, he is a snarky little shit who loves to tease others

-"Oh my god look at the sky! The colors are so beautifl!" *takes a picture* "And the clouds? Wow!" *takes another picture* "Guys, come look at the sunset!" *takes 20 more pictures*

-has a very low alcohol tolerance (3 glasses in and he is under the table)

-although he seems like a very well put together person, he is very messy and tends to misplace things, especially when he creates extra storage with zippers he can't find anything. He calls it "organized chaos"

-can easily sneak up on others, he just silently spawns out of nowhere. Is it his natural ability or is Sticky Fingers involved? No one knows

-is able to talk his way out of anything, uses his charm to his advantage a lot. Also the master of puppy eyes

-suffers from PTSD because of the attack on his father, that's why he always sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Everytime he hears noises in the middle on the night he gets paranoid that someone is hiding in or sneaking into his home with the intention of harming him and his love ones. When the panic attacks hit him really hard, he irrationally makes extra safety precautions, such as blocking doors with furniture or leaving the lights on. Also has trouble sleeping in unknown places because he feels vulnerable and exposed to potential dangers, he is always in a state of high alert.

-his favorite season is winter, he enjoys Christmas the most because he loves giving presents and being with his family. He definitely plays an old Ella Fitgerald vinyl records during Christmas time

Leone Abbacchio

-tea lover, his favorite is earl grey

-doesn't like sweets, however he enjoys dried fruit (especially figs)

-Narancia is his favorite kid

-movies enthusiast, has seen sooo many movies and is the biggest critic. He has a Letterboxd account where he writes reviews. Loves watching old horror movies the most because of the gothic aesthetic, but DC movies have a very special place in his heart

-hardcore Depeche Mode, Calabrese and London After Midnight fan

-goes jogging every morning

-after getting sober he tries to look after his diet more, thanks to Bruno

-knows a lot about occult stuff

-secretly watches RuPaul's drag race with Trish

-owns a motorcycle

-named his stand after Bruno's favorite music genre to honor everything Bruno has done for him

-takes very cold and brisk showers

-taught all the boys how to drive

-thanks to Mista he became a huge Gorillaz fan

-since Moody Blues doesn't have lips, she communicates with him via symbols on her digital forehead screen

-never puts down his headphones

-has a playlist for literally any occasion. Tends to gatekeep music, you have to be very special if he shows you his playlists. Has made a playlist for each member of the Bucci gang, the only one who knows is Bruno (Leone created him multiple playlists, they even have a shared one, which they play when they are alone)

-his skin is very prone to bruising

-Moody Blues also allows him to see fragments of the past when he touches various items, he is able to sense the overall vibe and emotions of their owner and the situation they were in while using the item.

-his clothes may be dark, but I know for a fact his socks and underwear are colorful af, wild patterns all over

-his favorite season is autumn, he loves rainy and foggy weather

-the biggest prankster of the group. Everyone thinks either Narancia or Mista are always responsible for the pranks, but it is actually Leone. No one ever suspects him, because he doesn't look like the type of guy who would enjoy such childish things. And thanks to his stoic appearance he always gets away with it.

-true crime podcast listener. Him and Fugo share this passion and often discuss their favorite podcast shows. Sometimes they watch detective movies together and bet on who will solve the mystery first

Pannacotta Fugo

-reads a lot of crime novels in his free time, always comes up with his own theories and tries to solve the case before the detective (got mistaken only once and couldn't get over it for a long time). His favorite author is Sebastian Fitzek

-loves watching cartoons and animated movies, because he didn't get to enjoy them as a child

-hates horror movies because of loud jumpscares, but doesn't mind gore

-drinking green tea helps him to calm down

-gets sunburnt easily

-either never gets ill, or is sick for several weeks straight

-developed not only respiratory, but also digestive problems because of Purpe Haze and feels nauseous a lot (also throws up very often)

-uses make up to cover his facial scars

-his skin is extremely dry

-has a very light sleep, he finds it extremely difficult to share room with others during missions (he is only able to fall asleep with either Bruno or Giorno because they are not noisy sleepers like the others)

-Sheila, Murolo and him have regular sleepovers and movie marathons. They also cook dinner together

-his favorite bands are System of a Down, Slipknot, Bad Omens and Motionless in White

-can't go on rides in amusement parks because he gets sick

-him and Abbacchio visit rage rooms regularly

-always carries a book with him

-chews a lot of bubblegum to release his anger

-everytime the gang travels abroad he is the one who has to translate everything since he knows many foreign languages. He speaks english, french, russian, spanish and norwegian fluently, his pronunciation is so spot on you could barely tell he is not a native speaker. Doesn't have an accent at all. Also knows basics of sign language and cyrillic alphabet. He uses these skills often in Italy too, when he gets approached by strangers on the streets he pretends he is a confused tourist who doesn't undertand italian

-gets overstimulated easily, he is especially sensitive to noises (suffers from misophonia)

-bites ice cream and ice

-"the book was better than the movie" type of person

-picky eater, very cautious with unfamiliar food

-takes extremely hot showers. Whenever he is in the bathroom it ends up looking like a sauna in there. Also the gang has an unwritten rule that if they share a room during a mission, Fugo can use the bathroom first because he hates feeling dirty and has to use the shower immediately, otherwise he will be grumpy and won't shut up about it

-has a nasty skin picking habit, which results in him picking patches of dry skin and scabbed-over cuts and scratches (many of his injuries never fully heal because of this)

-never leaves the house without a hand sanitizer

-fidgets with his hands a lot when he is anxious

-goes to bed first and also wakes up the first

Narancia Ghirga

-vegetarian

-convinced Abbacchio to watch Brooklyn 99 with him (although Leone didn't like it at first, they now binge watch it together). They also watched Breaking Bad and What We Do In The Shadows

-has heterochromia

-thinks Orange Capri Sun is the supreme flavor and refuses to drink any other flavor

-created a shared playlist for the squad, he blasts it everytime the gang travels somewhere (it mostly consist of EDM, trap, phonk and rap)

-always beats everyone in Just Dance game sessions

-wears mismatched socks

-somewhat good at drawing, has a very unique cartoon caricature-like style

-hardcore Marvel fan (loves Guardians of the Galaxy the most), argues with Abbacchio a lot because he likes DC

-Mista, Trish and him had a podcast at some point

-his favorite candy is Kinder Surprise

-makes paper airplanes when bored

-bites people he love

-cries when animal dies in a movie

-suffers from seasonal allergy

-sleeps with tiny Creeper and Enderman Minecraft plushies, he takes them everywhere and even made them an instagram account, where he shares random pictures of them. When someone from the gang goes on a separate mission, he gives one plushie to the group or the individual, so they wouldn't feel lonely. And they also take pictures of the plusie and send them to Narancia.

-speaking of Minecraft, he manages a server where the gang plays together. He even created custom skins for everyone which look like their stands. Since he is the only one without humanoid stand, his skin is Mr. Smith, the pilot or Aerosmith. He wears a jacket with a picture of his stand in the back

-he is afraid of doctors and doesn't like hospitals. Everytime he gets sick or injured, he gets very anxious about his health. He hates dentists the most.

-loves when Fugo reads to him because he has a very smooth audio-book-like voice when he is calm

-experimented with different hair dyes couple of times, Trish and Abbacchio helped him

-die hard South Park fan, quotes the show on daily basis

-steals everyone's clothes. Can't find a shirt? Narancia is wearing it. Your hoodie is missing? It's in Narancia's closet

-has sticky notes all over his room, because if he doesn't have something written down, he will most likely forget it

-surprisingly very strong, the only person from the gang he is not able to lift up is Leone

Giorno Giovanna

-his emotions effect his powers (different flowers grow around him or from his hair when he gets excited, angry or scared), however he manages to control and hide it well

-master builder in The Sims game; doesn't care about the gameplay as such, he just enjoys building the houses and spends hours decorating them. Fugo loves to join his gaming sessions, but he on the other hand doesn't care about the houses or decorations, his goal is to always kill as many sims as possible (he loves to play around with various gruesome mods, which Giorno secretly enjoys watching)

-walking cottage core moodboard aesthetic

-goes on a picnic at least 2 times a week. In general preferst to eat ouside, terrace or garden are his favorite places

-has a very complex skincare routine

-heist movies enthusiast

-Trish got him into astrology and tarot cards

-loves theatre and poetry, even tried to write some poems himself

-writes official Passione documents on typewriter

-installed beehives in the Passione mansion gardens and makes his own honey

-collects dried flowers

-is the best liar in the group

-a bug magnet, there is always some type of insect crawling on his clothes

-him and Fugo have library & bookshop dates, they also visit museums together and exchange random facts about nature. Nerds in love, what can I say

-caramel is his favorite ice cream and dessert toping

-has a small floral tattoo on his wrist

-autistic

-loves taking bubble baths

-takes part in any bet without hesitation, no matter how absurd it is

-very bad dancer, has no rythm, but he is the best singer from the group, his voice is angelic

-very rough driver; hits the breaks hard, pumps up the gas fast and does very sharp turns. Also drives hella fast

-learned how to differentiate the steps of other people (especially the fellow teammates, since they live together). This is an old habit from his childhood.

-he walks very quietly, others barely notice when he walks into a room or when he leaves

-hates the smell of cigarettes

-others think he has a very odd music taste, because he will be singing a song from a Disney movie and within a couple of minutes you can catch him vibing to Banshee. He is forbidden to play his music in the car because it consist of all kinds of genres it makes it almost uncomfortable to listen to. His fellow gang members say his playlists are inconsistent, but they just make sense to Giorno.

-speaking of music, he is a huge fan of Hozier, Die Antwoord, Ghostemane and Little Big

-very creative, his hobbies include all kinds of crafty ativities, such as sewing, embroidering, pottery making, felting, knitting, soap making, candle making…. you name it, if he can create something, he will. And he is very good at it

-extremely fascinated by venomous animals and poisonous plants. The deadlier the better. His obsession with killer plants led to him nicknaming Fugo "his aconito", because he associates the aconite flower with his stand (it disables nerves, lowers blood pressure, and can stop the heart, plus it's purple). His other favorite flowers associated with Fugo and Purple Haze are Nightshade, Love in a mist, Spider lily and Morning glory

-zones out a lot

-sleeps with dozens of pillows, when he sleeps he is literally burried under them

-when he gets overwhelmed he lights up an incense stick and it calms him down. He is very fond of nice smells.

Guido Mista

-enjoys shitty movies, especially buddy commedies and low budget rom coms. Abbacchio hates when Mista picks films for the movie nights. Bruno on the other hand loves it

-Adam Sandler number 1 fan

-signed up for an archery course, also tried to use crossbow at some point

-can fall asleep anywhere, snores very loud

-likes the weirdest food combinations (like ice cream and pickles and stuff), the type of person who eats fries with McFlurry

-kills bugs with Nerf guns, Giorno hates it

-plays airsoft and paintball in free time

-enjoys camping, rockclimbing and rafting. Outdoor activities are his thing

-hella superstitious, made up various rituals he repeats in order to avoid bad luck

-very religious, always says a prayer before every mission

-reggaeton is his favorite type of music

-idk why but him having diabetes makes so much sence, since Pistols have to eat regularly to keep his energy and sugar lvl. stable

-mayo is his go to dressing with everything (fries, hot dog, nachos...)

-him and Narancia have 1am fast food trips

-makes silly bets with others and always challenges them to do something stupid for money, Giorno is always the first one to participate

-the best hugger

-big brother energy, everytime the other teammates screw something up and are afraid to tell Bucciarati or Abbacchio, they go to Mista for advice. He is extremely responsible and can always keep his head clear in stressful situations

-claims to hate drama but is always down to listen to some fresh tea

-loves watching cooking competitions. He is always judging the contestants harder than Gordon Ramsay ever could, Abbacchio occasionally joins him because he finds it amusing

-whenever someone tells him "I love you" he replies "Ditto", referencing one of his favorite movies (Ghost, 1990)

[eddiediazismyhusband]

s8 premiere teaser is bees

yk what else is bees?

the critically acclaimed 2007 animated classic The Bee Movie starring Jerry Seinfeld and Renee Zellweger

a famous line from that movie is “Ya like jazz?”

what else is jazz?

the song Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered by Ella Fitgerald

yk what that song served the inspiration for?

the episode Buck, Bothered, and Bewildered in s7

now if you look closely

Buck, Bothered, and BEEwildered…

so we’ve established the connection of Buck to the bee plot

but

how is this about buddie you may ask?

remove all the letters from ‘buddie’ except for b

hmmm

‘b’

like b for Buckley?

but what is buck’s first name? Evan!

so we have B and E

but that’s not all- bc we also have eddie

Eddie

E!

so we take all of those and what do we get?

B - E - E

so basically this means buddie canon in 8x1 like the signs are there you cannot argue w me

[ataraxiaspainting]

Animal Cannibal.

Yan Dottore x F Reader.

Synopsis: Violent individuals were frequently drawn to you, including your dear friend Willow, who shares your affinity for this destructive behavior. Your stalker, too, possesses a similar infatuation with you. The bond between the three of you lies in the intertwined emotions of violence and love.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence/gore, stalking, cannibalism, minor character death, implied future kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of not SFW, and non-consensual human experimentation. 

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Goo Goo Muck by The Cramps

Killer Queen by Queen

Psycho Killer - 2005 Remaster by Talking Heads

I Want To Break Free by Queen

Tip Toe Thru’ the Tulips with Me by Tiny Tim

Exploration by Bruno Coulais 

Take on Me by a-ha

You Are My Sunshine by Charles McDonald

Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin

Dream A Little Dream Of Me - Single Version by Ella Fitgerald (feat. Louis Armstrong)

“But love shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg!” – Possibly in Michigan (1983)

*~*~*~*

i. “My own experiments have given me a deep understanding of the true nature of suffering… and I’m keen to share it with a willing guinea pig, hm?”

You found a strange man outside of your house.

He was taller than you–with hair the color of mint that covered his eyes, his beard long and poorly taken care of with split ends and some leaves and small sticks stuck to the thicker parts of it.

He waved at you when he saw you approaching. He did not scare you, not one bit.

He did not blend into his surroundings well because of how unique his appearance was. He wore an open black waistcoat with some of its buttons hanging on by a loose thread and nothing underneath. His pants were torn from the knee down. Grossly, you smelled him before you even saw him.

“Hello, sir,” You say, stepping a bit closer carefully, skillfully, being sure to not make a sound to startle or agitate him. You have become well-acquainted with unfamiliar gentlemen lurking around your residence as daylight fades, after all. “It’s getting late, isn’t it? Do you have a place to stay? There is an inn nearby I think if you don’t.” For better or for worse, stealth is something you are quite intimate with. “Sir? Are you alright? Sir?” The man did not respond, simply looking past you like you were not there.

He looked on into the brightwood trees, the wild, overgrown bushes dotted with purple Sumeru roses, and the rising, circular moon. You have a sudden flash of inspiration; since you have no weapon on you, you could bite him and claw at him if he tried anything. Your eyes go downcast, to his tattered, dirty leather shoes, as you dismiss the idea. 

“Excuse me? Do you need something? Sir?”

“I don't,” The man finally said, his voice raspy. “What about you? Do you live somewhere?”

“Here, I live here.” You could not hear what he mumbled as a response because of how quiet he was. “I live here. This is my home. You are outside my door and I can’t get in. Please, if you don’t need assistance, take a few steps back from it.”

Instead of looking at him, you look at your door. That is when you saw it; a hairpin lodged into your lock.

The man took it out and ran into the forest.

Despite the slight dents on your front door's lock, your house remained in good condition. Its aged appearance stood in stark contrast to the lush greenery that thrived just a few meters away. The wood showed signs of decay, with splits and a distinct scent of dampness and decomposing fish. Attached to the house was a collection of neglected Sumeru rose bushes, stunted and infested with flies. A rockery filled the space with an abundance of rocks, while a fairy ring composed of squishy brown toadstools emitted a dreadful odor when mistakenly stepped upon.

ii. “There is a sickness inside of me. I feel it eating away at me, eroding my mind and body. But I do not care. If I have to suffer for knowledge, I gladly will.”

The well outside your house was, for lack of a better word, still decrepit. But still, it seems like the man did not do anything to it. On the first day you moved in, all alone, the old couple that lived a hundred or so meters away made a point of telling you how dangerous the well was, and they warned you to be sure you kept away from it. 

You found it as soon as you stepped onto the property, it was in front of your house after all, smelling strongly of damp, dirty water, behind a clump of trees—a low brick circle almost hidden in the high grass. There were nests of drain flies that from afar looked like crushed pebbles. It made you step back a bit in complete disgust before you turned in the opposite direction to put your things down.

Like most Sumeru forests, there were plenty of types of animals. There were crystalflies that were sometimes the only light source you had, frogs that sometimes crept up your legs as you walked in tall, wet blades of grass and nearly made you scream every time and lizards that always somehow found a way inside and slithered across your floors.

There was also an orange cat, who sat on walls and tree stumps and watched you while meowing loudly but slipped away hissing if ever you went over to scare it off.

You spent the first two weeks after you moved in making adjustments to the rather old house. You hardly ate or slept, you just worked. There were days when you did not change clothes or drink water even, being so focused on your work that you hardly noticed anything else around you.

“This is my favorite!” exclaimed Willow, pointing at the Padisarah Pudding that was blocked off by a wall of glass.

“How much mora is it?” You asked, taking out your wallet. “I'll buy it for you. I am buying some Samosas here anyway, so it is no trouble. If you want, I can buy you some too, I recommend getting the potato and pea one.”

“No,” Willow answered, shaking her head while chuckling. “I'm fine. I have to use up some old vegetables and meat anyway at home before they go bad or my parents are going to kill me for real.” 

“Alright, be sure to check the ingredients beforehand for any dirt or mold,” you said. “‘I do not want you getting sick.”

You stood by one of the bakery’s windows, observing the rain pouring down. This rain wasn't the type you could venture out into; it was the other kind, cascading from the sky and creating splashes upon impact. This rain was serious, and its current agenda was transforming the streets into a murky, soggy mixture.

There was nothing to do here other than talk to Willow and wait for your food. Not that that was a bad thing in your book.

You had met through a mutual stalker, to put it simply, and now are inseparable. Even though that man is currently rotting in a prison cell, the past still influenced both of your actions. You just thank Lesser Lord Kusanali for granting you good fortune. With every new stalker, Willow seemed to be connected to them somehow, making you two even closer than before. You bond over your shared reverence of violence and love.

So, you start talking.

You start talking with a tone akin to someone making small talk over the weather, but instead of dark clouds or how bright the sun is, you talk about the man you saw yesterday. Willow listens, nodding a bit from time to time while still looking both outside the window and to the glass wall where the desserts were placed for the viewership of the customers. From the way she smiles with every word you say, you know you have piqued her interest yet again.

“Interesting.” She finally says, her back turned to you as she looks out to the rainstorm.

iii. “I wondered, why does a man who has done nothing think he deserves everything? That is what this experiment is about.”

“Hello?” You say, opening your door. “You're back.”

“Yes,” The man answered, playing with the buttons on his torn clothing. “Only for you, beloved.”

“Should I be honored?” You asked. “Who are you? What are you?”

“Your prince, what else?”

“Who or what else are you?”

“Someone utterly in love with you, someone you love too.”

“How do you know that?”

"My mouth,” The man answers, leaning in closer to you with his tongue out. “Look—look at it. The better to eat you with, my dear. It hungers for you. I just know you are the one to finally satisfy it. It is in a wolf's nature to feed, after all.”

“I see.” You look down as he kisses you, showing no resistance. He has holes in his shoes. His big toes are sticking out like sore thumbs. You suppose that they are, in a way.

“You have two choices. One, I will eat you now; or two, I will cut your arms and legs off one by one and eat them in front of you slowly as you cry on the floor covered in filth.”

You considered this carefully as you thought of an answer, preparing to ask him why.

So, you do, because he does not stop you and you want to know, don't you? He does not stop you.

He says for love.

You ask again.

He once again says it is for love. You say that love isn’t something given as part of an exchange or contract, that what he is asking for is bitter and dry.

He simply laughs. “For love.”

“But do you love me?"

“You smell so good, like the finest rose in all of Sumeru, all of Teyvat, even all of Celestia.”

Struggling would be useless. “Have there been others?” You ask.

"You must be the seventh," he remarked, leaving you to grapple with this realization. Escape became an impossible feat as he denied you any chance to flee. 

As if responding to his words, the door creaked open, followed by a gunshot.

iv. “I could have simply sliced her apart the moment I saw her and threw her to my patients, but I could not waste someone as fascinating as her. She is a treasure trove of knowledge, and it is rather rare to find someone as interesting as her, my assistant.”

The man fell to the floor grasping his shot through chest. Willow helped you up. Life quickly faded from the man's once concealed eyes, his red eyes.

“The plan worked,” Willow said. “Good job. He won't see you anymore. We make a good team I think.”

You agree.

“You should boil some water.” She said.

You then shrugged. “I'm getting tired of soup.” You responded. “I want sauce or something to go with the Samosas.”

Willow did not say anything for a moment.

It was dark outside now, with the rain still falling from the sky and making tiny splatters on the soil, making it hard to see out the window.

Perhaps making soup for dinner was not a bad idea after all. Days like this called for comfort. “Fine,” You say, and Willow smiles. “I’ll start prepping ingredients.”

“I’ll run to my home and get the leftovers I talked about.” She is already putting back on her coat before you can rebut.

You sighed as you heard the door close. It was time to get to work, you suppose.

“Come out, my friend.” You take the meat cleaver out from the kitchen drawer where you put the rest of your knives, the said cleaver still stained with blood from the month before. “You are unsightly if I am being perfectly honest with you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

…

Dinner went off without any problems. It was a lovely feast. However, heating the Samosas without breaking them was kind of difficult for you because you only had one small pan and one large pot.

Something creaks in the distance.

Creeeeeeeeak. The floorboards. You and Willow are too busy talking to notice. The sound came from your bedroom. A man with a mustache the color of rotting mint that covered his mouth and chin, his filthy brown hair long and dirty, and even some animal fur being laid about everywhere on his scalp.

He sneaks out your bedroom window.

His shadow was hardly seen by either of you because of how fast he ran.

He was like a spider. The comparison was sort of funny because he knew how much you hated them.

He has to eventually make his way to Port Ormos to catch his boat back to Snezhnaya. 

But that can wait for later. You are so much better than business and any other projects he is currently doing or has discarded. 

All he can think about is you. He thinks of what to tell the current him, of how many stalkers you and your friend have murdered in retribution for their harassment.

Would he be delighted?

Would he be angered?

There is no way to know for sure. After all, whenever someone tries to talk to him they have to tread the line between being too nice and being too rude unless they want to find themselves on the other side of the operations.

There is just one more thing he needs to check before he goes. Just one. It will only take a minute. It will be quick.

He steps on the old well’s edge and looks down into the murky water.

He sees one of the clones’ skulls floating on the surface, its disintegrating bone covered in flies fighting each other for the tiniest scraps of fat. 

They buzzed and buzzed until he could not take it anymore and threw a large rock, breaking the cranium and scaring away the flying insects, though there is no doubt that maggots are being born where the eyes and tongue used to be.

You and Willow throw the bones down the well. Just what he thought.

Good.

v. “My work is the purest form of art there is. It requires painstaking detail and absolute perfection, all in the spirit of scientific advancement and understanding. As an example, the first part of this experiment in particular is a success.”

[simonetheestan]

Some Music Artists Yui + the Sakamakis listen to

Ayato Sakamaki: Nicki Minaj, Childish Gambino, Ye, Travis Scott, Tyler the Creator

Laito Sakamaki: Michael Jackson, Prince, Rihanna, Stevie Wonder, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitgerald, SZA

Shu Sakamaki: Mozart, John Williams, Yo-Yo Ma, Alan Silvestri, Bach, Mitsuki, Taylor Swift

Reiji Sakamaki: Elton John, Adele, Paul McCartney, Celine Dion, Rina Sawayama

Kanato Sakamaki: Ed Sheeran, Charlie Puth, Queen, Lana Del Rey, Andrew Lloyd Webber

Subaru Sakamaki: WILLOW, Eminem, Måneskin, Metallica, AC/DC, Travis Barker, Jack White, BTS

Yui Komori: Twice, BTS, Taylor Swift, IU, Olivia Rodrigo, Harry Styles, One Direction

[hopepaigeturner]

Benophie: "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

Here it is! The final request from anon (other than part 2 of my Bhaji and Burrito one-shot if anyone still wants it--still haven't settled on a name yet--any ideas?).

5. "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

Benedict leant against the wall, eyes pinned on Sophie Beckett laughing on the far side of the tent, her green bridesmaid dress making her look like a fairytale dryad.

They had met at Kate and Anthony’s engagement party last year. On that night she had worn a shimmering silver dress and stayed by one another the entire night As the bells chimed midnight they had shared a kiss on the terrace like giddy teenage lovers.

Then followed Bridgerton family brunch where Kate took Benedict aside and told him, in no uncertain terms, that Sophie was off-limits so they could avoid messy wedding drama between the maid of honour and best man. Benedict had wished to scoff until Kate added that Sophie had recently recovered from some severe ‘heartbreak’ and Benedict had remembered Antony rushing out one night because Kate’s best friend needed to be ‘rescued’. So reluctantly he had agreed.

But that Friday he had been invited to the pub as a group of four and spent the entire evening talking and laughing with Sophie. That night had ended with Sophie pushing him up against the wall outside the toilets and kissing him until he could barely remember his own name; followed by a tense, discreet exit to rendezvous at Sophie’s flat.

And then it sort of…continued; the pair hooking up whenever he flew in from a photo shoot or she returned from a book tour, their conflicting schedules never allowing anything permanent to take root; both of them pretending that each goodbye was easier, not torturously harder, than the one before; both of them ignoring the spike of jealousy when the other posted a picture with someone—after all their agreement had never been exclusive.

And then the wedding and all its rigmarole had rolled around; the family parties; the joint hen and stag do; afternoons of calming down the bride and groom; running errands together or cooking together.

Now Benedict wanted more, so much more than confessions and connection during pillow talk or afterglow beatifications. He selfishly wanted every part of her and started rehearsing love declarations in his mind.

Then, at the rehearsal dinner her ‘date’ had waltzed through the door and into her arms.

Who on earth was Theo Sharpe?

Sophie had made no mention of him in the last few weeks, not even on the nights when she would moan Benedict’s name in the sweetest cadences.

But there she was, an arm linked around his as they talked to his sister, Eloise. He and Eloise seemed to be energetically conversing while Sophie merely looked on with an amused smile. But Benedict had seen all the little things throughout the day, such as Kate’s comment about them being a ‘cute couple’. Also how she had held his pinky whenever she could, or when she had flushed prettily at the table at the pertinent questions.

Benedict could barely take it, sipping his wine a lot faster than usual, constantly watching the couple—gosh, just the word made him shiver. And worst of all—Theo had not asked Sophie to dance. Not even when Ella Fitgerald’s mellow voice rang out around the ballroom. He noticed Sophie looking around expectantly, smiling softly at her favourite song—the same song she would hum while running her fingers through his hair before drifting off to sleep. Theo Sharpe did not even seem to see Sophie’s reaction.

Benedict put down his glass and strode over to her.

“I believe it is customary for the bridesmaid and best man to dance?” he announced without preamble. The trio turned to him.

“I have never heard of such a rule,” Eloise teased, a glint in her eye. “Have you Theo?”

“Uh—I do not think I have –I cannot be sure these things—well, they—” Benedict’s eyes zeroed in on Sophie’s pinkie wrapping around Theo’s.

“Well, it is. Sophie?”

Sophie looked to Theo; Theo nodded. Benedict bristled.

Dream a little dream of me...

Benedict pulled Sophie into his arms and it just felt right, the same feeling he had on that terrace, or whenever she greeted him in the airport, or whenever he woke with her in his arms. Sophie just felt right as they swayed while Louis Jordan’s voice joined with Ella’s:

Stars fading but I linger on, dear Still craving your kiss…

Benedict pulled her closer.

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear Just saying this…

“You know that was dreadfully rude,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Practically dragging me away from Theo.”

“This is your favourite song.”

“Yes.”

“And he had made no inclination to dance with you—anyone who knows you knows the significance of this song.”

The only voice of love that would accompany her as she worked on her hands and knees. A solace from the sharp words and bruises.

“They do,” she replied quietly. “Yes.”

Dream little dream of me...

“So, I had to dance with you—he wasn’t going to.”

“He’s a little nervous,” Sophie replied, and it irked him that she defended him so fiercely.

“Yes, I saw you holding his hand.”

“He gets anxiety, this is not necessarily his scene.”

“Well, he might be right about that—I’ve never seen him.”

“Why would you? It’s none of your business.”

“Really? Was it not my business the other night in bed? Or in the shower? Or over your vanity?”

“Stop it,” Sophie blushed.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just a little offended that over these last weeks, when you’ve practically spent every moment of every day with me, you never told me you had a boyfriend.”

“He’s not—” She halted, then cocked her head. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Frustrated certainly—”

“You are! You are jealous.” Her eyes widened.

“Well, yes, I suppose I am—happy?” Benedict shot back.

“But why…why would you be jealous?”

Benedict heart snapped like a glowstick, his emotions flooding through him.

“Because I’m head over heels in love with you and have been for months. And I hate that we have had to sneak around when I want to spend the entire day holding your hand and kissing you and dancing with you—"

“Ben—"

“—and I should not be mad because it’s not as if I can be the man you deserve to be with. I don’t have a stable job or life, and you deserve that stability after all the heartbreak from your stepmother. I’m just a wayward second son with no merits other than some pretty pictures and my last name—”

“Benedict!”

Sophie’s heel came down on his toe.

“Ow!”

“Listen to me,” she hissed, “Theo’s my date.”

“I know.” He bit out.

“But he’s not my boyfriend—he’s my publisher.”

“What?”

“He’s my publisher. He’s self-made so all this high society stuff is really intimidating and he’s been on the edge of a panic attack the entire day. I invited him months ago when I felt particularly insecure, because you had all these beautiful, glamorous models around you and I’m the shameful bastard child who couldn’t even get her father to look at her, so how on earth could I keep your affection—”

Benedict kissed her, right there in the middle of the dancefloor, even though the song had ended.

Time slowed, noise muted, faded, overwhelmed by a sense of perfection.

Blissful serenity.

When they broke apart, Benedict kept her close so she could read the sincerity in his eyes.

“You’ve had my affection from the very moment we met, from our very first kiss and every moment after. No other woman has touched my lips or my heart since that moonlit night, because your mere scent, your mere breath, your mere presence sends my heart thundering and my mind spinning. You deserve to be loved Sophie, you are worthy of being loved and I am so sorry that I haven’t managed to convince you of that fact. But I love you. I just…I love you.”

Her eyes watered as she cupped his face with her hands.

“You are so much more than a second son Benedict—you are the man I love. The man who inspires my stories, my soul and my heart with his sincerity and kindness and talent.” She kissed him softly. “And if you must know, I mainly brought Theo so I could introduce him to Eloise.”

Benedict chuckled, the tenseness flowing out of his body.

“So, he shall not be returning to your room.”

“No, he wasn’t the guy I wished would return with me tonight.”

“Oh really—and who would that be?”

“Possibly my real boyfriend.”

Benedict’s heart stuttered.

“Are you sure?”

Sophie grinned.

“Absolutely—if that is—that is what you want.”

Benedict grinned back, before scooping her into his arms.

“Announcement!” he called, and the wedding party turned, but Benedict didn’t register any of their faces. “I would like to introduce you all to my girlfriend Sophie Beckett who I am head over heels in love with; body, heart and soul.”

“Benedict!” she gasped but her eyes shone brilliantly bright and full of love, love directed at him.

He had to have her.

“Thank you for listening—good night!” he called, and a couple choruses rose in response.

Then he carried her out of the room.

It was not until they had located Benedict’s bedroom door when Sophie cried,

“Ben, wait! I didn’t check in on Theo!”

Benedict grinned wolfishly.

“Trust me, he’s a clever boy he’ll work out where we’re going.”

*~*~*~*

Ngl, really enjoyed this one and could see me doing a couple drabbles if people want more.

Thanks for all the inspiration 🥰 🥰 

[celticbarb]

Book: Can’t We Be Friends?

Authors: Denny S. Bryce and Eliza Knight

Release Date: March 5, 2024

Publisher : William Morrow Paperbacks

Length: 396 Pages

Overall Rating: 5/5 Stars

Blog Rating: 5/5 Saltire Flags

To think he’s going to fill up his greedy accounts when all I ever got was $50. Who am I kidding? He probably stuffs it under his dirty mattress. Hugh Hefner, who’s ever heard of him and his dumb magazine, Playboy?…book quote by Marilyn Monroe in “Can’t We Be Friends” by Denny S Bryce and Eliza Knight

This is a historical fiction book about the rare close friendship between the Queen of jazz, singer Ella Fitzgerald and bombshell beauty, Queen of the screen Marilyn Monroe. You would never guess how much this plus sized, black singer and the white, platinum blonde, iconic actress who became the world’s pop-culture-icon had in common. It was about wanting help to make Monroe a better singer as Marilyn was a perfectionist and wanted to be taken seriously in her profession as an actress. To her there was no one better than her singing idol Ella Fitzgerald. Except Ella turned her down in a very eloquent sweet way explaining she was never trained professionally that the music was just inside her. Marilyn understood perfectly it was Ella’s god given gift. Marilyn’s letters still continued as what Marilyn really needed was a friend and Ella seemed to need that too besides her assistant Georgina Henry and her adopted son Ray Jr..Plus both being in this insane entertainment industry they understood things that people outside the business would not. They really ended up trusting each other and confided in each other with secrets they did not share with anyone else. On top of that they both had similar palettes especially for pastrami sandwiches!

In the beginning it was Georgina who answered the letters except soon it was Ella. Ella felt flattered that America’s current favorite sweetheart on film loved her music. Soon Ella looked forward to Marilyn’s letters as Ella was going through a difficult divorce so listening to Marilyn speak to her about funny things happening in her life brought humor into Ella’s life. Soon both women realized they needed to meet in person realizing they both had bad abusive childhoods, grew up during the Great Depression and also dealt with some of the same prejudices in their lives with so much prejudice in entertainment that women still fight for today in 2024.

Yet Marilyn was a passionate supporter of the civil rights movement and did fight for Ella when she was being banned by a certain nightclub to perform. Monroe used her celebrity status to appear so Ella could perform. She made sure her friend could play where people snubbed her for her size or skin color. Unfortunately the civil rights movement and segregation was at the center in the 1950’s sadly. In the beginning Marilyn had to deal with a different kind of prejudice where directors and producers grabbed her inappropriately and asked for personal favors if she wanted a specific part. This was called the casting couch and also threatened her never to work again if she does not submit. They were the Harvey Weinstein’s of the 1950’s sadly.

I loved this book so much my heart definitely went out to both Ella and Marilyn and all they had to deal with. I found myself very emotional wiping my tears as I read this brilliant read that definitely touched my heart! I personally still feel there was foul play in Marilyn’s death by the Kennedy brothers after all this family is not unfamiliar with mystery and death. Well both did not live into the next decade. So I do not know if I will ever get the answer to that. I personally do not think it was suicide if anything it was an accidental overdose. Again this is my personal opinion as I have always been a fan of her work. You can hear Ella Fitgerald’s hit song “A Tisket A Tasket” even in an episode of The Gilmore Girls in 2002. As for Ella my heart went out to her too from her personal hardships and later in life in her seventies where she had both of her legs amputated below her knees from her diabetes and was also partially blind. So she also had different kinds of demons, honestly I believe both of these women just wanted to be loved like everyone else in the world!

Both of these multi talented women had many demons yet they did not let the racial prejudices of the world affect their friendship. Godbless them both in eternal peace! It is a book I couldn't put down even though I knew it would be filled with a lot of hardships, plus I knew a lot of Marilyn’s history. I was surprised that Ella also had some demons of her own in a completely different way. I found myself listening to Ella’s music online and watching clips from all of Marilyn’s former films and listening to some of her interviews. I will end this book review with a Marilyn Monroe quote from her last interview days before her death. “Fame is fickle and I know it. It has its compensations but it also has its drawbacks, and I have experienced both.”

This historical fiction novel about the friendship between the iconic Marilyn Monroe and Queen of Jazz, Ella Fitzgerald is absolutely so cleverly done. I loved this book so much my heart definitely went out to both Ella and Marilyn and all they had to deal with. Both Bryce and Knight were a perfect collaboration in this magnificent historical fiction masterpiece. As Bryce and Knight wrote a phenomenal book from start to finish! It is one of those rare books that is also very hard to come by and stays with you long after you have read it. It is absolutely awe inspiring! A novel I absolutely loved and can not recommend enough! Bravo to both Denny S. Bryce and Eliza Knight on penning such a dazzling, bright, luminescent book where each page absolutely shined with true brilliance!

Disclaimer: I received an advance reader's copy from the William Morrow Paperbacks. I voluntarily agreed to do an honest, fair, review and blog through netgalley. All words, ideas and thoughts are my own.

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/Cant-We-Be-Friends-Fitzgerald-ebook/dp/B0C782GT4P

https://books.apple.com/us/book/cant-we-be-friends/id6449970053

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cant-we-be-friends-eliza-knight/1143924322?ean=9780063282902

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/can-t-we-be-friends-2

[solejazzyrapper]

Ella Fitgerald, source d'inspiration

De mon amour des mélodies et des instruments a découlé mon appréciation du Jazz. Quand j'écoute un morceau qui me plait, je fais la démarche d'en lire les crédits pour savoir qui a travaillé dessus (déformation professionnelle). C'est comme çà que j'ai appris que le morceau ROAD TO ZION de Damian Marley (featuring Nas) sample l'artiste qui m'inspire aujourd'hui.

ELLA FITGERALD, DIVA DU JAZZ

Si je vous fais écouter SummerTime, nous nous rejoindrons sur la question. C'est le morceau le plus populaire d'Ella Fitgerald, repris un nombre incalculable de fois. Dans les spectacles soul, jazz, c'est un incontournable. J'aime parler des femmes parce que ce monde est macho. Plus encore quand il s'agit d'une femme noire née un peu avant 1920 aux Etats Unis, son combat était double : celui des droits civiques et celui des droits des femmes.

Grande dame du Jazz, Ella Fitgerald a produit 68 disques de 1947 à 1989. On en parle de la productivité des artistes de l'époque (alors qu’il n’y avait pas encore eu la révolution du digital) ?

Sa musique lui a également ouvert les portes des studios de cinéma. C’était une belle femme en plus d’être charismatique. Aujourd'hui, elle nous a quitté mais son héritage pour le Jazz et toutes les musiques du monde est indéniable.

Je lui dois une part de l'inspiration derrière mon album live JAZZ MA TAZZ L'HERITAGE toujours en écoute et dorénavant en vente à la Jazzy Boutique.

Rendez vous mardi prochain pour le prochain pionnier.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - Ch4/4

It becomes sort of a thing with us. Me and Tony. Every now and then, whenever the exhaustion hits too hard, whenever sleeping and the dreams and the lack of dreams are too much to take, JARVIS makes sure we always find each other. He was subtle about it at first, thought he was being clever having us coincidentally meet in the kitchen or gym or the roof.

Took us just few days to figure out the AI is most definitely plotting against us.

Or for us, I suppose.

Since our impromptu meetings started, things got…better. Not great or perfect but better. No more falling asleep dreading what’s to come, no more waking up miserable and angry…I’m nowhere near okay but I think maybe, just maybe I could be. Maybe there’s still a place for me in here. After the war, after HYDRA and the Winter Soldier…after seventy years living in my own personal nightmare I might be able to do something with my life after all.

Current goal number one? Make Clint stop stealing my favorite fruit loops!

“Yikes! Do you have your will sorted out bird brain?” Tony waltzes around me into the kitchen, looking between me and Clint. “Because if glares could kill…” he trails off, walking to the fridge.

Clint turns around, freezing when he spots me looming in the doorway. “What?!” he frowns at me, mouth full of my delicious –

“It’s the fruit loops, Katniss,” Tony hums.

“Wha-?”

“They’re mine,” I glare harder at the archer, who in turn widens his eyes.

“Th…they’re delicious,” he stutters.

“I know.”

“I’ll uh…buy some more! For both of us!”

“Yes, you will.”

He glances at Tony, who’s too busy searching for potential breakfast in the fridge to notice him. “O-kaaay.”

“Now.”

“Right,” he nods and bolts out of the kitchen.

“Well…that’s one way of getting rid of morning annoyances. Very handy. No pun intended,” he glances at me, eying the left hand for a second. “Making friends?”

“Clint’s cool,” I shrug. “Not cool enough to share these with him yet though.”

(Read-more ahead!)

He watches me with eyebrows raised as I sit down where Clint’s been just moments ago, confiscating the bowl of deliciousness. “Looks like you’re okay with sharing,” he chuckles, picking a blueberry jam out of the fridge and grabbing a couple slices of bread from the counter.

I almost drop the spoon, making a double-take at what I’ve just witnessed. “Are you…making breakfast?!” I blurt out.

“I’m hungry.”

Only that never stopped him from not eating anything for days. Steve of course gave me the Tony Stark 101, thinking he could pass it off as an excuse for almost strangling the man. Almost made me want to strangle him, but after a quick notes comparison with Natasha I found he was mostly right about everything.

Barely sleeps, barely eats, is reckless in battles, doesn’t listen to anyone, makes jokes out of everything to dodge anything serious…still not an excuse for what Steve did. Luckily for Steve, he’s behaving himself lately so I won’t have to punch him anytime soon.

And…so is Tony. He’s still doped on coffee most of the time – he does like his coffee, alright – but doesn’t look like he’s just crawled out of his own grave.

Wait…was he humming a minute ago? He was.

Huh.

“Morning,” Natasha sneaks in, sitting opposite of me with a smirk.

“Nat,” Tony winks at her, finishes his PB&J’s and heads for the exit. “See ya around, James,” he adds on his way out.

“Sure.”

I gotta go for a run after this. Clear my head. Before…before I start thinking about something that’s so not possible.

“James?” Natasha snorts, smirk widening.

I glare at the spy, wishing it would have the same effect as it does on Clint. “S’ my name.”

“Yeeees. It is,” she purses her lips, eyes dangerously…knowing.

On second thoughts, I’m gonna go for the run now. I back out of the kitchen, noting that as soon as I’m three steps away from the table, the still half-full bowl of fruit loops once again changes owners.

Damn Natasha.

Tonight’s one of those nights. Nights I know I should go to sleep, but don’t want to at all. I don’t even have to tell JARVIS where to take me after I step into the elevator. It goes straight up, stopping at the penthouse.

Guess I’m lucky, because Tony would usually be in the workshop this early into the evening and I w –

And he’s asleep.

Right there on the couch, still wearing his ragged and dirty workshop clothing and his left hand holding onto a wrench.

“JARVIS?” I whisper, unable to hold back a smile.

“You may wake him up, Sergeant. He’s been asleep for five hours like this, which is sufficient for now,” he replies just as quietly.

The couch is comfy, but sleeping on it for too long isn’t exactly comfortable. And if he sleeps for too long, he delves too deep into whatever nightmare decides to pay him a visit.

I walk across the room without making a single sound. Every now and then I find a good use for all the assassin skills HYDRA bothered to train me. Moving silently like this comes in handy all the time – like this, on the battlefield…or if I want to scare Sam shitless when I catch him spying on Natasha. The dude couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. I told him that…and didn’t really appreciate the comeback.

“Look who’s talkin’, Sergeant I’m-just-watching-Iron Man-for science! Or whatever excuse you’re making!”

Damn bird brains…

Crouching down next to the couch, I take a moment to observe the seemingly relaxed face of the man that would without a doubt be haunting my dreams by now – if I had any.

Maybe it’s for the best.

“Hey,” I try at first, but his peaceful face doesn’t even stir at the sound. Startling him awake would be as bad as letting him continue sleeping so I have to be as sneaky about it as I can. Taking my chances, I place my metal hand on his warm, flesh one, hoping the wrench it’s holding won’t deck me in the face next. “Wake up, Tony.”

It’s not exactly a smooth awakening, but with a sharp intake of breath and a slight jolt he opens his eyes, wide and wild for a moment.

“Sorry. J said nap time’s over so,” I smile at him, but it falters the instant I see the sheer terror in those brown eyes.

“S’okay,” he sits up, his PR face falling into place. “Didn’t wanna sleep anyway,” he yawns, looking down at our joined hands.

Crap.

I stand up, making it a subtle excuse to break the surely offending contact. The way his eyes sadly travel up with the motion confuse me enough to regret doing it immediately. “You a’right?”

“Hm? Sure,” he nods, frowning at the wrench he then places on the coffee table.

It’s the kinda ‘sure’ that makes me really restless and by me I mean whatever is left of the Winter Soldier somewhere down there. Steve used to say it, usually while his bony little face was all bloody and beaten, but ‘sure’ - he was okay.

Tony is not okay.

Whatever expression forms on my face must convey that message with absolute clarity, because he sighs and sits back against the back of the sofa.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles and it’s the closest thing to an admission of not being okay I’ll ever get from the man, if past experiences are anything to go by.

“Okay.”

“It’s…stupid,” he continues in a lowered voice. “Anyway. What brings you up here at this hour?”

“Tony, it’s just a lil’ over 6 PM.”

“It is?! Oh. So…wanna hang out?” he smiles, but the press façade is still at hundred percent.

“Yeah,” I return the smile, bright and honest.

His face falls all of a sudden. “Well, we’ve got about ten minutes. I totally forgot about Prague,” he mumbles, teeth gritted.

Ah. The International Astronomical Union thing. “I thought that was tomorrow.”

“It is. And I’m supposed to have a presentation on something that’s not even built yet!” he glares at the wrench. “Gotta go hit the workshop and do some hard core overnight inventing, just like old times. I’d tell you to come along but…”

“S’fine. Would only distract ya.” And freak out the second I stepped in there.

“You’ve got no idea…I mean,” he clears his throat and gets up, pacing around the couch. “It wouldn’t be a problem. Seriously. If you ever wanna try coming down there you can. Anytime. I’ve already trained DUM-E to make sure he wouldn’t be a bother…or spray you with a fire-extinguisher. Don’t ask, he’s got a fetish that one,” he explains with a snort, seeing my confusion.

“He sounds like fun. I’ll uh…I’ll think about it.”

“Sure. So…five minutes to go. Need a drink? Or a movie recommendation? You can stay here if you want. Or - ”

“Thanks. That’s alright. Gonna read something and go to sleep, I guess.”

He looks at me with the same ‘I see right through your bullshit’ look I used on him a moment ago.

“Fine! So it’s not alright…s’not like you can do anything about it. Or anyone, really.”

He hums in thought, eyeing the piano with what I can only guess to be determination. “Even if you can’t dream, you can occupy your mind with something, right? Imagine something? That’s what I try doing. To chase away the nightmares. Or the fear of them. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“It’s been workin’ lately, huh?”

He freezes…and is that a blush? Did Clint slip something into my tea? I’m seeing things now. Great. I’m gonna murder him.

“Yeah…kinda. Anyway. Thought I’d suggest it…in case it might work for you, too,” he shrugs.

“I tried, actually. My imagination suffered over the years, though. It just wouldn’t work for me.”

His lips twitch into a subtle, mischievous smirk and he moves to the piano. “Maybe we just need to give it some incentive.”

“I don’t think a little bit of Mozart is gonna help,” I roll my eyes, but he starts playing anyway.

And that’s not Mozart. Or Chopin or Bach or whoever. I don’t really know anything about music, but I know this song.

Everyone born in the twenties knows this song. It would be playing in the background while you were slowly dancing with ya sweetheart and getting your first kiss. And second, third, and so on. I don’t remember a single dance or event where this didn’t play at least once.

The melody starts rolling and Tony hums along with it. He’s made it clear ain’t nobody’s gonna hear him sing, ever.

I move to my VIP chair – as he calls it – not sitting down, just next to it. Next to Tony.

The songs brings back good memories, that’s for sure. But I don’t understand how this is supposed to be some kinda incent –

Oh. Oh.

...while I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me...

I thought the chair was the only thing capable of wiping my mind completely clean, but this right here manages to out-do it. I gape at the engineer, who’s still playing and humming the tune with a content smile, trying to make sense of what’s happening here.

By the time he’s done and rotates on the piano stool to look at me, my brain finally decides to cooperate and in a rare moment of clarity I return eighty years into the past to switch the Bucky Barnes mode on. “Are you…flirting with me in a song?”

He raises his eyebrows and for one single moment he looks shy. Tony goddamn Stark looks shy. Before I can take that in, he’s back to that mischievous smile. “Too High School Musical for you? Or not enough? Wait, you don’t know what that is, do you. Good, don’t ever let Clint bully you into watching it. Seriously, he’ll be sneaky about it and - ”

He goes on babbling in the speed of light about something something Clint, but all I heard was…the lack of a ‘no I’m not, you fool’ in that sentence. Not only didn’t he deny the flirting bit, he basically confirmed it. HYDRA spent seventy years trying to break me…and by the stunned, silly way I must look right now I guess this man succeeded in doing that in only five minutes.

“…so the question is, is it enough of an incentive for you to survive the night while I’m off to plot revenge against those damn astronomers for demoting Pluto? And yes, that’s the only reason I even agreed to the presentation. That and a chance to hit the pubs for some good beer. You’re a beer guy, right? I’ll bring you some. There’s one called ‘Demon’…and it tastes exactly as the name suggests – deviously good. Only they don’t bottle it…oh well, I’ll bring the whole cask! Uh…you okay?”

I shake my head a little, trying some sorta hard reset or somethin’ before he calls 911. “You…you’ve just told me…in a song to…dream of you,” I sum it up, more for myself than anyone else, really, because his growing smirk is telling me he knows all too well what he’s said and what it means.

He shrugs, raising a challenging eyebrow. “The song’s telling you to do a lot of things, actually. I don’t remember all the lyrics, but I’m pretty sure at one point there’s something about saying nighty night and kissing and holding tight. I guess we can skip that – even though that’s my favorite bit – and you can just tell me you’ll miss me, go do the dreaming part and we can revisit the rest tomorrow after I crush that presentation.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that the million questions flooding my brain disperse into thin air this instant. He’s dead serious. He’s…deadly seriously flirting with me. With. Me.

As if reading every word of my inner dilemma, his cocky smile eases into this gentle little quirk of lips I’ve only ever seen him use…well…with me…and stands up. Taking two swift steps right into my personal space he grabs both my arms in a gentle hold and leans close enough his lips brush against my left ear. “How does that sound to your imagination?” he whispers in a tone that is probably just as innocent as Clint’s apologetic pout. Not at fucking all.

I finally manage to will my head to move and lock gazes with the engineer, his eyes more alive than I’ve ever seen them. And I have been paying special attention to them lately, alright?

I’m not the Bucky Barnes of old…he would definitely do something more than just imagine things right now. But HYDRA and all the fuckery it’s put me through be damned – the Bucky Barnes I am now is NOT out of the game yet. I still know how to play it. So I will.

Finding the courage to put one of my very own smirks on, I return the gentle hold, place my hands – flesh and metal – on his hips and lean closer to whisper as well: “I’ll miss you.”

Not at all innocent – voice or hands.

And now that I’ve said what he suggested, I’m gonna go and do what he suggested as well. So I take a few steps backwards, memorizing that partly satisfied, vulnerable and partly something-else-entirely way he’s watching me right now and turn around, walking back to the elevator.

It’s already here and opening, but I decide to give into the swirling curiosity after all. “Is that what you’ve been doing lately?” I glance back at the now openly grinning man. “Dreaming of me?”

He shrugs. “Maaaaaybeeee…? Although, lately is a bit…inaccurate, to be honest.”

Day one hundred of discovering useful Winter Soldier abilities – the ability to maintain eye contact with a stone cold, unreadable expression despite a volcano of emotions is exploding in my head. That’s right, HYDRA, I’m about to utilize seventy years worth of your training efforts not to assassinate people, but flirt with Tony Stark.

So while I leave my already wild mind deal with Tony’s revelation, I back into the elevator, watching him – and him watching me – until the doors slide shut and JARVIS automatically moves it down to my floor.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, I have already downloaded the song to your StarkPad music library,” he answers before I can even ask.

That just goes to show how brilliant the AI is. Like father like son. But there’s one more th –

“I have also taken the liberty of including a full version of Sir’s instrumental performance of the song. There is also one where he sings along, but I wouldn’t recommend it for listening-before-sleeping purposes. But if you are ever feeling down and in need of a good laugh then it is available to you as well.”

Okay…there’s a fine line between brilliance and actual mind reading. Gotta watch out for this one.

I go through my evening routine and when I’m all clean and tucked in, I put the piano piece on repeat. The volume is gentle enough to be almost soothing and it doesn’t really take long to be lulled to sleep by it, the melody going on and on in the background until morning.

“Before you murder me, I did not eat your fruit loops!” Clint throws a disclaimer my way as soon as I enter the kitchen.

I glare at him – and Sam, Steve and Natasha too, for good measure – not believing a work of it. When I make it to the cupboard I indeed find the box of fruit loops completely empty and just left in there as evidence of the unforgivable deed.

A mocking, teasing gesture. Oh when I find who’s done it I will…nevermind. Bird brain is lucky, because this fine early morning I am in a very good mood.

So I might not have dreamt last night, not really. But the events of the evening kept replaying in my head – with the added bonus of my not so brain-dead imagination throwing in a little bit of…somethin’ to keep my mind occupied for a while, that’s for sure.

“For once, Katniss isn’t lying,” Tony materializes in the doorway, ready to storm the conference, fancy suit and all.

That fancy suit however wouldn’t stay there very long…courtesy of my imagination.

“For once? What’s that supposed to mean?!” Clint pouts, glaring at a suspiciously amused Natasha.

“How do you know he’s not lying?” I narrow my eyes at Tony, trying my usual intimidating look but god! Is that difficult to do to him. When he’s all suited-up and grinning and…what aftershave is that?! Without a doubt designed to torture me.

“Why, James, isn’t that obvious?” he beams and brings an empty bowl he’s been hiding behind his back into view. “I know, because I ate them.”

Clint chokes on air, eyes bulging out. “You’ve got a death wish?!”

“What’s going on?” Steve frowns in clear confusion, looking between the all of us.

Tony only grins more, setting the bowl on the table next to Clint. “Sharing is caring,” he shrugs, raising just one eyebrow in quite the practiced fashion.

I couldn’t agree more…but he’s not getting away that easily. “Well in that case…” I turn around and pour myself the remaining Stark Potion of Life.

The way Tony’s grin breaks and molds into absolute horror in a second as I bring the cup to my lips almost makes me burst into laughing. Him and his coffee, seriously…

I torture him but a moment longer, before offering the untouched cup to him. “Sharing is caring, huh,” I smile but narrow my eyes immediately. “Some things I’m not gonna share. Just so you know.”

He takes the cup, pouting. “Good. Me neither.”

“Speaking of sharing!” Clint ruins the moment by jumping between us, putting his hand around my shoulders, leaning close with his patented smirk of conspiracy. “I’ve heard all about Nat’s ninja dream, Steve’s weird riding on the subway dream…so, your turn!”

“You dreamt about riding on the subway? The fuck?!” Tony turns his attention to Steve, who’s still blinking between us like we’ve just erased his brain or something.

“I’ve had…you could call it a dream I suppose,” I tell Clint, leaning against the counter behind me. “I dreamt a little dream of a little someone. Well…not so little now that I think about it.”

“Eeeeyyy! Now we’re talking dirty, metal man!” Clint exclaims, hitting my metal upper-arm with his fist. “Tell me everything!”

I lock gazes with Tony, who is back to grinning like a mad man. “Not sharin’ that with you, bird brain. And what are you lookin’ at? Go, you’ve got to avenge Pluto and get back here with the beer.”

“Bossy…I’ll be off then. Behave, boys…and ninja,” he gives Natasha a courtesy bow and with a wink my way, he walks out of the room.

I can’t help but watch his retreat – studying all the curves for science purposes of course – and it seems to be the last straw for Stevie, who definitely noticed with all his confused staring.

“Did you just…never mind. I’ll be in the gym,” he shakes his head and all but runs away.

With sudden wave of clarity I didn’t think my brain would ever be capable of again, I realize it should really be me running out of the room.

I should be flinching out of Clint’s bro half-hug, I should be freaked out by yet another one of his dream questions and I should most definitely be even more freaked out by the fact that I am not.

Not flinching away, not freaking out, not running away.

A man can’t afford any of that while on a flirting mission with Tony Stark. And said flirting mission needs more…research. JARVIS will help, I think.

Looks like I’m just gonna have to wait until the evening for…the man of my dreams. And make sure I’m a man of his dreams as well and not the nightmares.

And I have plenty of incentives on my mind for that.

~The End <3

[fotopadova]

Sabine Weiss, ultima fotografa umanista

di Gustavo Millozzi

 -- Ho letto in questi giorni che Sabine Weiss, l'ultima esponente della fotografia umanistica francese (che, partendo dal suo capostipite Eugene Atget, del quale già ho qui scritto in un precedente articolo - annovera tra l'altro importanti autori quali Robert Doisneau, Willy Ronis, Édouard Boubat, Brassaï, Izis) ha compiuto 93 anni e che ha affidato al Musée de l'Élysée di Losanna le sue opere affinché vengano conservate per i posteri, valorizzate, e messe a disposizione di un largo pubblico.

©Sabine Weiss, Autoritratto (1954)

Non sono a conoscenza del fatto se sia mai stata esposta in Italia una mostra di questa importante fotografa (e, se ciò è vero, la considero una grave mancanza) che occupa un posto unico nell'ambito della fotografia umanista in quanto le sue immagini si distinguono da quelle dei colleghi Doisneau e Ronis: in Sabine Weiss, specialmente nella sua produzione degli anni '50, gli atteggiamenti ed i visi dell'infanzia sono uno specchio dell'anima umana e le loro emozioni risultano molto più vere rispetto a quelle degli adulti abituati a portare una maschera e a nascondere o controllare i loro sentimenti. Lungi dalla commiserazione o dal semplice divertimento è nell'empatia, la condivisione o la silenziosa identificazione, la fotografa attua. La sua presenza si nota nello sguardo struggente di questi bambini nelle strade.

©Sabine Weiss, Bambini prendono l’acqua da una fontana in rue des Terres-au-curé (Parigi, 1954)

Nelle sue fotografie più tarde quello che ci colpisce è il sentimento d'isolamento ed a volte una tenera tristezza che dalle stesse emana, ove i bambini e le persone anziane si racchiudono in una medesima fragilità. Spesso ripresi in un momento di riposo, in momenti ove nulla succede, l'uomo perduto nei suoi pensieri o il bambino che contempla il mondo, si rassomigliano  non importa quale sia il loro paese o la loro condizione.

"Adoro i bambini" lei puntualizza "ma è una grande sfida, non solo riuscire a fotografarli, ma anche far sì che rimangano naturali. Nel '54 avevo fotografato in Spagna un gruppo di bambini che facevano sulla strada il gioco del "salto della cavallina" e non posso fare a meno di abbinare tale scatto ad un altro che ho fatto a Bali l'estate scorsa: dei bambini che si rotolavano nel fango, ridevano, facevano i matti e che, quando si sono accorti che mi avvicinavo con i miei calzoni bianchi, si sono scatenati ancor di più. Nello stesso modo, come cinquantacinque anni prima, ho voluto fissare la gioia di quei bambini che, pur non avendo niente, sanno ad ogni modo come divertirsi".  

©Sabine Weiss, Bali (2009)

Non a caso Sabine Weiss è stata definita una "classicista": lo è, non soltanto per la sua attenzione ai canoni della forma ed agli equilibri geometrici dell'immagine, ma soprattutto per il suo costante indagare sui valori dell'esistenza, sull'essere umano ed i suoi rapporti con il mondo perché fotografare è un modo di vedere, ma anche un modo di vivere

La macchina fotografica, la sua Leica diventa "…un prolungamento dell'occhio" che può essere "un revolver o il divano di uno psicanalista", uno strumento che è solo mero mezzo con il quale fissare la realtà, come lei vuole siano le sue immagini che vengono realizzate sempre mediante l'impiego di un'ottica che possa restituire una visuale simile a quella dell'occhio umano (il 50 mm.). Quindi vengono riportate fedelmente su una stampa a pieno formato senza che venga escluso alcunché di quanto è stato visto nel mirino, mostrandoci così ancor più la realtà del momento decisivo dell'avvenimento che ne implica l'intero sviluppo.

©Sabine Weiss, Terrain vague-Porte de Saint Cloud (Paris-1950)

Sabine Weiss (di nascita Sabine Weber) nasce in Svizzera a Saint-Gingolph e già dalla prima infanzia inizia a fotografare continuando poi il suo apprendistato presso uno studio di Ginevra. Nel 1946  si trasferisce a Parigi  "con solo una camicia da notte, una matita ed una Rolleiflex" quale assistente del fotografo tedesco Willy Maywald, specialista di moda e ritratti "scoprendo l'importanza della luce naturale come fonte di emozioni" e nel 1950, sposatasi col pittore americano Hugh Weiss inizia l'attività di fotografa indipendente frequentando il modo degli artisti, cosa che le permette di fotografare George Braque, Joan Miró, André Breton nonché numerosi musicisti, scrittori ed attori (ricordiamo Francoise Sagan, Jeanne Moreau, Simone Signoret ed Ella Fitgerald).

©Sabine Weiss, Francoise Sagan (Paris-1954)

Su raccomandazione di Robert Doisneau Sabine Weiss viene accolta nell'Agenzia Rapho ed il suo lavoro viene così apprezzato negli Stati Uniti, dove espone nei più prestigiosi musei e gallerie, sì da essere inserita nel 1955 con tre fotografie nella celebre mostra "The Family of Man" organizzata da Edward Steichen. Lavora poi in maniera continuativa, anche nel campo del colore, sino agli anni 2000 per le riviste di maggior importanza (quali ad esempio Life, The New York Times Magazine, Vogue, Elle, Newsweek, Paris Match, Esquire) con foto di moda, reportages, pubblicità, ritratti di personalità famose. Di questo periodo ricorda "Ciò mi ha consentito di vivere del mio lavoro, di essere indipendente. Sono stata fortunata".

©Sabine Weiss, Cheval, Porte de Vanves (Paris-1952)

Alla fine degli anni '70 la sua opera viene gratificata da un grande riconoscimento delle istituzioni, dei festival fotografici, cosa che la spinge ad intraprendere nuovamente anche il suo lavoro in bianco e nero. Porta avanti, così, passata la sessantina, una nuova produzione personale, ritmata attraverso viaggi, in Francia, in Egitto, in India, all' Île de la Réunion, in Bulgaria ed in Birmania, nonché in altri paesi. In queste immagini si avverte una melodia più sentimentale, centrata sulle solitudini e momenti meditativi della vita con una passione mai dimenticata ed una insaziabile curiosità. Ed oggi dichiara anche: "Come fotografo donna non ho sofferto di alcuna segregazione. Ho avuto una vita ricca, piena di aneddoti. Io sono un'artigiana, ho lavorato molto duramente. La foto ha preso la mia vita. Non mi pento di nulla, tranne forse di non essermi consacrata di più al reportage.»

 ©Sabine Weiss, Guadeloupe (1990)

Contemporaneamente i riconoscimenti si moltiplicano contribuendo a creare su di lei l'aura di una fotografa indipendente e viva, sensibile all'essere umano ed alla sua vita quotidiana.    

Le sue fotografie fanno parte di prestigiose collezioni internazionali, dal Metropolitan Museum of Art al Musée de l'Elysée di Losanna, dal Centre Georges Pompidou alla Maison Européenne de la Photographie e Kunsthaus Zurich. Molte sono le onorificenze conferite a Sabine Weiss tra le quali quella di Cavaliere dell'Ordine delle Arti e delle Lettere, di Ufficiale delle Arti e delle Lettere nonché quella di Cavaliere della Legion d'onore conferitale dal ministro della cultura Frédéric Mitterrand.

Una grande mostra le è stata dedicata in Francia l'anno scorso a Jeu de Paume-Château de Tours. 

vedi anche:

https://www.tvsvizzera.it/tvs/ritratto_sabine-weiss---la-fotografia-non-%C3%A8-arte--ma-artigianato-/42779526

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Org as vintage love songs?

i’m a huge vintage music fan tbh

Masterlist

Xemnas - Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra

“Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars... let me see what Spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.“

Xigbar - A Sunday Kind of Love by Jo Stafford

“A love to last past Saturday night, and I’d like to know it’s more than love at first sight.“

Xaldin - Auf Wiederseh’n Sweetheart by Vera Lynn

“We’ll kiss again like this again, don’t let the teardrops start.“

Vexen - Dream a Little Dream of Me by Ella Fitgerald and Louis Armstrong

“Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss. Yeah, I’m longing to linger ‘till dawn, dear.“

Lexaeus - I’ll Be Seeing You by Vera Lynn

“I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new... I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you.“

Zexion - Some Enchanted Evening by Perry Como

“Who can explain it, who can tell you why? Fools give you reasons, wise men never try.“

Saix - It’s Been a Long, Long Time by Harry James and His Orchestra, ft. Kitty Kallen

“You’ll never know how many dreams I dream about you, or just how empty they all seemed without you.“

Axel - To Love Somebody by Nina Simone

“You don’t know what it’s like, baby you don’t know what it’s like to love somebody the way I love you.“

Demyx - We’ll Meet Again by Vera Lynn

“Keep smiling through, just like you always do... ‘til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.“

Luxord - The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra

“With each word your tenderness grows, tearing my fear apart. And that laugh, wrinkles your nose, touches my foolish heart.“

Marluxia - Unforgettable by Natalie Cole and Nat King Cole

“No, never before has someone been more, oh, unforgettable in every way.“

Larxene -  At Last by Etta James

“And I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own.“

Roxas - Dearly Beloved by Rita Hayworth

“Tell me that it’s true, tell me you agree. I was meant for you and you were meant for me.“

Xion - La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose.”

[dutifullycasualsweets]

It isn't where you came from, but where you are going that counts - Ella Fitgerald

https://images.app.goo.gl/APUt7z8QLe7gzZEm8

[oupacademic]

Ella Fitzgerald, dubbed the “The First Lady of Song,” was an American Jazz singer known for skilled vocal improvisation and a wide-ranging voice.

Celebrate Fitzgerald’s Centennial Birthday month with this collection of songs.

Image credit: “Portrait of Ella Fitzgerald, New York, N.Y., ca. Nov. 1946” by William P. Gottlieb. Public Domain via Library of Congress.

[dany-bear]

tagged by @softhyungkyun ty victoria! 

tagging: @lex-iiiii  @uh0paque  @bebecue 

name/nickname: clive

pronouns: she/they

star sign: sagittarius 

height: 5'1" (155cm)

birthday: dec 3

nationality: american

fav band/groups: monsta x, lake street dive, the black keys

fav solo artists: wonho, park kyung, doja cat

fave albums: follow find you, monsta x; chulahoma, the black keys; ella and louis, ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong; fun machine, lake street dive

song stuck in your head:  isn’t this a lovely day, by ella fitgerald&louis armstrong

last movie you watched: parasite

last show you binged: merlin

when you created your blog:  feb 2013

last thing you googled: the weather i think?

other blogs: @a-puzzling-development @key-to-levis-heart @peterparkersapunkassbitch and @eboyimchangkyun (im only active on the last one)

why i chose my url: i loves bears and the twotuckgom bears are so cute asbfakjsfaj,s love their dumb lil faces. danygom=dany bear

number following: 101 blogs

[suvroc]

Ok well crap I went and did it. An attempt to compile the songs mentioned throughout the fic and in the comments of @omgmussimm​ ‘s Good Omens fic Tabula Rasa. 

Abandon all hope -- song titles and some choice lyrics under the cut. 

1. Hozier’s Shrike “I couldn't utter my love when it counted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird, 'bout it now” <yes the whole song>

2. Orville Peck's Hope To Die “Take me back to the time I was yours and you were mine Take me back, the words I'd say I had to whisper Because you liked it that way”

3. Elle Fitgerald's 'The Nearness of You'  "It's not the pale moon that excites me That thrills and delights me, oh no It's just the nearness of you"

4. Big Thief - Mary More a mood than the actual lyrics. The voice. I don't usually listen to female singers because they affect me too much? It actually was the first song in this playlist that made me cry. "What did you tell me Mary When you were there so sweet and very Full of field and stars You carried all of time Oh and, heavens, when you looked at me” - “But now you're out of sight And you'll kiss me like you used to in the January night” - “The sugar rush The constant hush The pushing of the water gush”

5. boygenius - Bite the Hand “I can't touch you, I wouldn't if I could I can't love you how you want me to”

6. Dorothy Moore - Misty Blue - 1976 "Oh honey, just the mention of your name (just your name) Turns the flicker to a flame Listen to me good, baby I think of the things we used to do And my whole world turns misty blue (misty blue)” - “Ooh baby, I should forget you Heaven knows I tried (heaven knows I tried) Baby, when I say that I'm glad we're through Deep in my heart I know I've lied”

7.  Ella Fitzgerald - Angel Eyes “Angel eyes, that old Devil sent They glow unbearably bright Need I say that my love's misspent Misspent with angel eyes tonight”

..... Damn I'm not going to get through this am I?

8. Billie Holiday - I'm a Fool to Want You “I'm a fool to hold you Such a fool to hold you To seek a kiss not mine alone To share a kiss the Devil has known”

9. Under the Gun by The Killers “Because heaven sends and heaven takes Crashing cars in his brain Keep him tied up to a dream And only she can set him free And then he says to me ...kill me now kill me now kill me now kill me Stupid on the streets of London James Dean in the rain Without her it's not the same The same, the same, but it's alright”

<Crowley/Esther - and Fuck yeah, the whole song.>

10. Haley Heynderickx - The Bug Collector “And there's a praying mantis Prancing on your bathtub And you swear it's a priest From a past life out to getcha And I digress 'Cause I must make you the perfect evening I try my best To put the priest inside a jam jar”

Fucking love the imagery of this

11. Homebody - Nai Palm "You don't have to bury all of the memories Hold on love" FUCKING WATCH THE VIDEO!!!!!! ! !!

quote from the comments we must...’ramble or explode’

12. (All of a sudden) My Heart Sings - Duke Ellington / Joya Sherrill- 1945 dAMN IT... “Your little laugh and handsome cries The star light gleaming in your eyes Remembering all those little things All of a sudden my heart sings”

13. #726 Glen Hansard - My Little Ruin (Session Acoustique)

“Come on, my little sorrow Won't you sing yourself a different song The melody that made you Is now a worn out sing along Every body's looking at you But I can't stand to watch I've seen this scene come and go too much” <YES THE WHOLE SONG...shit... cried the second time you are better than they are> CRAP

14. It's Happening Again - Agnes Obel “I took a day or two To exile from the light To unfold that prisoner They call a mind And for a brief moment We could stop the time But with the stars and the moon I woke up in the night”

15. "Unchained Melody"

“Time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine? I need your love I need your love God speed your love to me”

16. (not in the comments but this one struck me for chapter 22) The Boy Done Wrong Again - Belle and Sebastian “On Saturday I was an angel shining fair You shone louder, longer You put my shine to shame Put me to shame now Put me to shame What is it I must do to pay for all my crimes? What is it I must do? I would do it all the time.”  

17. Landslide by Fleetwood Mac - 3x - 1975

“Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?”

(... How long is it going to take YOU to get over Tabula RAsa?)

18.  Sibylle Baier - Forget About 

SOOOOOOft “You made me forget about Have, want and exert And all of a sudden, I found out Oh, it's beautiful, the way you wear your shirt”

19. I Lost Something in the Hills  “Oh, I yearn”  😭

20. Phoebe Bridgers - Garden Song

21. Kishi Bashi - Manchester “The very last breath of the hero of our tale Would you only to guess Did he truly prevail In the the sequel? I guess I'll have to write a sequel

My favorite part's when I die In your arms like a movie It's tragic, but now the story has its proper end” - oh you guys sobbing

“Oh hello, Will you be mine? I haven't felt this alive in a long time”

XOXOXOXOXOX

(P.S. - there are two bonus tracks -.-)

[provacoes]

Larissaaa, meu amô ❤️ Feeling good - Nina Simone, Dream a little dream of me - Louis Armstrong e Ella Fitgerald, L.O.V.E - Frank Sinatra #jetaime

E ai minha vida. Coloquei no queue.

Use a tag #pequenosescritores em suas autorias