#THEY LITERALLY MADE AN ENVIRONMENTALISM ALBUM | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh-hush-its-perfect · 8 months

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how the hoo characters would react upon being asked about taylor swift

PERCY: She's pretty good. Yeah, I listened to the new version of Speak Now and it kinda went harder than I thought it would. I'm not, like, a "worship the ground she walks on" kinda guy, but I guess I like enough of her songs to consider myself a Swiftie. Guilty pleasure, I guess.

ANNABETH: Oh, gosh. People always ask me this. Uh, long story short— oh, right, that's one of her songs. That's kinda funny— I liked her music a lot when I was younger. Like, "Better than Revenge" was my thing when I was fifteen. And, yeah, I've listened to most of her albums. I liked Midnights and folklore and evermore. But I was never in love with her as a person. I just relate to some of her songs. Oh, gods, I couldn't count how many times I've cried to "Would've, Could've, Should've." But I heard someone call her the "greatest songwriter of our generation," and that's just... That's a bit bizarre for me. I think she's good as an artist, though. So... I guess I like her music, but I'm definitely not a Swiftie.

PIPER: Uhhh, I don't know. Like, her music is terrible or anything, but it's not really my taste. But as a person? I don't know, the whole Matty Healy thing just rubbed me the wrong way, and... I mean, she's a rich white lady doing rich white lady things. My dad asked me if I wanted her at my birthday party once. I said no, but I also said no to the Regrettes, and I'm literally in love with Lydia Knight. I'm happy for her with the tour and all, but not really my scene, no. But Jason likes her so I try to be supportive.

JASON: Oh, my gods. She's like... I don't know if she's my favorite artist, but she's up there. I mean, like, she's just so classy and her music is just so good. The way she uses synths is like... it's like magic. And her lyrics— I mean, you can't get much more relatable than that. My favorite album is probably... Lover? Or maybe Red. Then again, maybe it's 1989. It's so hard to pick. I guess I'm kind of a hopeless romantic at the end of the day.

LEO: Taylor Swift? Well, like, she's hot.

THALIA: Not really my style. But if she did a punk-pop or metal album, I'd be down for that. Like, I heard a metal cover of "Look What You Made Me Do" once, and it went so hard. She's really got a good voice for punk, too. Saw a video of her doing a vocal growl on that one song— uh, what's it called? "We are Never Getting Back Together" or something like that? Anyway, that sounded really good. But I don't really like her environmental impact. You could ask Rachel about that. I bet she'd have a lot to say.

RACHEL: Taylor— Listen. Don't get me started on Taylor Swift. Her music is mediocre at best, and her carbon footprint? Holy Hades! I saw somewhere that that one study that said 8,000 tonnes was wrong and it's actually more like 1,000 tonnes, but that was taken from half of a year during a global pandemic. She wasn't even touring or anything. The woman's a multimillionaire. With that kind of money, you would think that she'd be more environmentally conscious, but no. Not at all. And I guess it's cool or whatever that she pays her people well, but, like, that's the bare minimum. Taylor Swift. I didn't like her before all that about her environmental impact and stuff came out, and I definitely don't like how she dates racist guys, and I hate the way people worship her and follow her like lemmings, y'know?

HAZEL: Who?

FRANK: Oh, she's good, I suppose. Never got super invested in her or her music or anything. I don't really know anything about her except that people love her, and her singles are fine, I guess. I liked that one song "cardigan."

NICO: Uh, I feel like people shouldn't really ask me about music. My music taste kinda sucks. But sure, Taylor Swift makes some good music. Annabeth played me a few songs once. I really liked "Haunted," I think it's called.

REYNA: I don't follow her life and I haven't listened to any of her albums or anything. I mostly listen to Latin music, to be honest. But she's a woman and she's extremely successful, so I suppose I'm happy for her.

[Coach Hedge immediately starts singing "Shake It Off" when asked and did not provide any further comment.]

OCTAVIAN: I can't believe some people call that trash "music." It's so low-brow and vapid. Only eleven year old girls actually like that kind of thing. Me, I listen to real music— the classics, like Mozart. My favorite song by him is definitely "Canon in D."

#heroes of olympus #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #riordanverse #taylor swift #in response to a post I saw saying that Annabeth wouldn't be a Swiftie— yeah but it's a little more nuanced than that

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ashleywool · 5 months

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What do I have left to be delusional about?

Back in late June, shortly after the Spectrum Club 7 found out we were going to make our Broadway debuts but we weren't allowed to tell anyone yet, we were processing all our feelings about it in our group chat.

All of us have faced some struggles to fit in, struggles to find and use our authentic voices in a world that wasn't designed for us. We had a lot of conversations about "imposter syndrome" and how it manifests in very specific ways in neurodivergent people--particularly women/AFABs.

"If I'm going to be on Broadway," one of us said, "what do I have left to be delusional about?"

That's something that's stuck in my head for the last few months, as I've hit career milestones that I never would have believed were possible for me as an openly autistic person. I originated a principal role on Broadway. I did an Instagram takeover for Playbill the day our show was announced. I performed at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Some of the biggest names in the entertainment industry know who I am. People are flying in from all over the country to hand-deliver fan art to me. All while we're still in PREVIEWS.

And sometimes I feel like an asshole for saying all of this, because it sounds like I'm making it up for clout, or like it's some kind of self-insert fanfic, but it's MY ACTUAL LIFE.

But other times, I can process this as reality. And those times, I allow myself the freedom to dream even bigger. If this happened, what else can happen? What other pie-in-the-sky dreams might I put out into the universe? What, indeed, do I have left to be delusional about?

Here are a few of the things I've come up with:

Host my own Christmas special, in the style of Bing Crosby and Judy Garland. I want to sing with a huge orchestra and choir and have a giant Christmas tree on stage with me. It will be called "Ashley Wool's Chosen Family Christmas" and it would feature all of my friends who wanted to participate.

Play Kira in a Broadway revival of Xanadu. I can't go more than a week without mentioning this somewhere. Kira is to me what Fanny Brice is to Lea Michele, and she made that happen, so why not me?

Also, play more Golden Age roles. I'm happy to screlt my face eight times a week, but the only place I get to use my soprano register is in church choir. I want a shot at Sarah Brown, Julie Jordan, Amalia Balash, any of 'em.

Collaborate with Missy Elliott on HTDIO remixes. Or...literally anything. (Maybe Ludacris can put in a good word for me?)

Release a full-length album of my original songs. This is probably the most technically realistic goal. For those who don't know, I already have three original singles out there. I think they're pretty good, even though they are suffering from a lack of Missy Elliott.

Buy a house. Just one. Nothing fancy. But an entire house. With a full kitchen and a dining room where I could host Thanksgiving sometimes and a yard big enough for a catio and a water feature. You know, like people used to be able to do with a high school diploma and a minimum-wage job. Well, maybe not with the water feature, but still. A house. A house would be nice.

Contribute in some major way to affordable (and ACCESSIBLE and environmentally SUSTAINABLE) housing in New York City. And other places. But especially New York. Because people are always like "iF yOu CaN't aFfOrD iT tHeN mOvE" and like...no. I love this city, millions of people love this city, and people should be able to live reasonably well in any city they want without being kajillionaires. People should be able to afford to live in the city where they work ANY JOB. I don't know why this is radical. It seems pretty basic to me. Bla bla bla bleeding heart leftist bla.

Anyway. That's my "self-insert fanfiction" list for the end of 2023.

Maybe next year it'll be even more ridiculous.

#actually autistic #spectrum club 7 #how to dance in ohio #dream big #bucket list #broadway #musical theatre #self insert fanfiction

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userparamore · 6 months

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Maybe it’s cause tour is starting soon and I’m just baffled by all of it so I’m sorry for ranting. But I genuinely don’t understand how paramore thinks all of us fans are just gonna ignore and move on with the fact that they’ve been silent about a genocide when a lot of aspects of their concerts have speeches about the state of the world and the second song of the setlist is literally called “the news” which they wrote about the Ukraine war. I’m sorry but their silence is so cowardly and embarrassing like imagine spending a whole album cycle saying shit like “very comfortable at talking politics” and promoting different congressmen and us representatives and now there’s an ethnic cleansing funded by US taxes and you’re gonna promote an interview?? promote a podcast?? like do they not realize how every single one of their past activism just seems so performative now?

I love the band and I’m gonna be at the NZ show but it’s crazy that this political and environmentally conscious band is just not gonna call out the government for playing a part in one of the worst crimes ever committed in human history. They’re gonna donate portions of their concert money to KiwiHarvest so I know they care about feeding people and making sure it’s all healthy so where’s the outrage for Palestinians who don’t have clean water and are all eating very little cause the bakeries got bomb. Where’s their cry for the environmental damages that Palestinians are going through with the white phosphorus bomb and fires all around sacred olive trees?

I hope they know that thousands marched for Palestine here in NZ and I know many people from the protest are also going to the paramore concert. I really hope the band don’t pull those “we just want peace and Israel has the right to defend itself” type of shit cause we booed a member of the NZ parliament off stage for saying something like that and as much as I admire this band, I will not hesitate to do it for them too

hi anon <3 don't worry you can rant if you want!

their silence have been extremely disappointing and have honestly turned me off them a little. maybe it would be better if they were completely silent between tours – completely on social media hiatus – but when we see them promote stuff and be active it just makes it worse. they're actively not saying anything. if they're going to be political this era they can't pick and choose which causes makes them look the best.

in the dolly parton interview hayley just did also made me more disappointed:

her saying that her speaking out and trying to make a difference doesn’t do much in the way of action. her saying this is very confusing to me especially after making a statement like “very comfortable with talking politics”, and them supporting different organizations like support + feed, and kiwiharvest. it's crazy to think that them speaking out or supporting these organizations doesn't make a difference. it does. it would make a difference if they spoke out about the genocides happening right now. they have the power.

i'm happy for you being able to attend the NZ show and i hope you have a great time. my guess is they'll keep their mouths shut and not say anything at all before they would show support for isreal (if that's what their beliefs are).

#as always i don't know if what i'm saying makes any sense #stole the screenshots from ivie (paramoreisrare) btw #it's just so crazy to me for her to say this and then later in the interview talk about all the good dolly har done #with the imagination library and the funding she did for the covid vaccine #dolly made chance happen. she made a difference #paramore have the same power #ask #anon

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mizugucci · 2 years

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🎵 if you'd like!

hi bee!!! sorry im so late getting to this, i hope you like it!

position: literally rapper is the only option to give you. i think youd be a good dancer too as well as a lyricist. you're not really the oldest, or the youngest, or the most popular or least popular you're just kind of normal in the middle. but you are known for speaking the truth which is nice. u dont let your fans be delulu over you

group name: your group name, and forgive me for being so obvious, is APIS which is the latin genus for most honey bees. yes it made after your name but ALSO apis are considered some of the more advanced genus/species of bees bc of their intelligence and division of labor in their communities (which reflects you bc of your giant brain) and your group consists of trainees that have all known each other for years, so your sociality is really advanced and are very cooperative just like the genus APIS. there are 8 species identified under the genus, so you have 8 members

concept: environmentalism!!!!!!!!! i had the idea originally bc of the color scheme of your blog and then w the addition of your name... obviously your group are all treehuggers and the point of your group is to raise awareness for climate change (your group was a HUGE risk to put into the industry, but your ceo is like. one of those rich environmentalists, and they had the idea of investing in a kpop group bc theyre so influential for younger generations) and thus u guys were born. the ceo bought the old company you were in, so the trainees stayed the same and is partly why your group works so well together

debut song: hmmm im not rly sure what sounds are considered environmentalist-y but perhaps lots of nature sounds? but like, electronicized dubstep nature sounds lmao idk bc you definitely do NOT debut with a soft ballad w the creek sounds in the bg... its def upbeat loud and noisy, and kind of gives the feeling of like 'omg i gotta do something' like you're running out of time (see: climate change) but the lyrics dont reflect that YET bc u try to get popular first before pushing the environmentalism agenda (which u do eventually)

fun fact: when NFTs started becoming a 'thing' in kpop, you wrote a diss track and released it on the groups latest album bc NFTs suck <3 and it actually got pretty popular so companies were like lol maybe we shouldnt.......... also this is so stupid BUT your fans names are honeys!!! i know honey10s exist but that should be a big enough difference right? ALSO!!! this is the funnest fact. but your maknae who is a VERY mischievous person, started posting links on social media but the only place they lead were to the bee movie script. your member started bee-rolling your fans and eventually the industry its rly funny

send me a 🎵 and ill create a kpop group with you in it, based on you and/or your blog!

#omg i wrote so much...#but i had a clear idea of this group lol #i can picture it perfectly #thank you for sending! hope this doesnt sound too ridiculous lol #replies #answered #mkg

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saveprakriti · 7 months

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Prakriti Mandir: A Tribute to Maa Prakriti at Green Mall

In the bustling city of Kolkata, amidst the urban landscape, lies a serene oasis dedicated to the worship of a divine entity that nurtures us all - Maa Prakriti, or Mother Nature. This unique concept, brought to life by renowned environmentalist and Green guru, Dinesh Rawat, is embodied in the form of a magnificent six-foot clay statue.

Who is Maa Prakriti?

Maa Prakriti, quite literally, means Mother Nature. But she is much more than just a name; she is an idolization of God. In the eyes of Green Guru Dinesh Rawat, Nature is as prevalent in each particle in the universe as the divine essence. The elements of the natural world are interconnected and inseparable, just like the attributes of God.

A Glimpse of Maa Prakriti's Statue

This awe-inspiring six-foot statue of Maa Prakriti, carved with exquisite detail, rests gracefully with the globe in her lap. Surrounding her are the Grahas (celestial bodies) and Nakshatras (constellations) that govern our universe. Dressed in floral attire, Maa Prakriti blesses humanity and the entire cosmos with her divine presence. Her face radiates love and affection, evoking a sense of reverence and connection.

The Sacred Abode of Prakriti Mandir

Maa Prakriti's divine statue finds its home at Prakriti Mandir, nestled within the verdant campus of Green Mall. Located on Bakrahat Road, Shamukpota, South 24 Parganas, West Bengal, India, this sacred place is a harmonious blend of natural beauty and spirituality.

Prakriti Mandir: A Blend of Art and Nature

Prakriti Mandir is a charming cottage-like building, skillfully crafted with bamboo and adorned with terracotta tiles. Its unique charm is enhanced by the yellow allamanda flowers that cascade from the roof's upper side. Each of its four sides is enveloped by exotic and exclusive plants, creating a living tapestry of greenery.

Step inside, and you'll be greeted by the soothing presence of air-purifying indoor plants, further enhancing the sanctity of this eco-friendly haven.

Worship at Prakriti Mandir

Unlike traditional temples, Prakriti Mandir does not observe elaborate rituals. Green Guru Dinesh Rawat offers a simple floral garland to Maa Prakriti in the morning as a gesture of reverence. No bhog, aarti, or lamps are lit. Instead, the ambiance is filled with the enchanting melodies of "Prakriti Vandana" and "Prakriti Ki Pukar," two audio albums created by Dinesh Rawat in 2010.

Prakriti Ki Pukar and Prakriti Vandana

"Prakriti Ki Pukar" and "Prakriti Vandana" are two musical treasures, each consisting of twelve highly inspiring environmental song tracks. These albums, featuring renowned singers in India, serve a noble purpose - to awaken our ecological consciousness and celebrate the beauty of our natural world. These songs transcend commercial interests, carrying the message of environmental stewardship.

What is Green Mall?

Green Mall stands as a testament to the love for nature and sustainable living. It is India's largest garden center, spanning an impressive twelve acres. Here, you'll find a vast nursery with an extensive collection of plants, ranging from delicate seedlings to majestic, mature specimens. Green Mall also stocks an array of non-plant items and offers comprehensive solutions for landscaping and gardening needs.

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In conclusion, Prakriti Mandir at Green Mall is not just a place of worship; it's a sanctuary of ecological spirituality. It invites us to pause, reflect, and reconnect with the divine presence of Mother Nature, reminding us that in every leaf, in every breeze, and in every living creature, we can witness the eternal essence of Maa Prakriti. It is an invitation to join hands in the mission of preserving and cherishing our precious planet.

Maa Prakriti is a term used to refer to Mother Nature. She is conceptualized as a goddess by environmentalist Green-guru Dinesh Rawat.

Yes, there is a six-foot statue of Maa Prakriti made with clay. It is installed at Prakriti Mandir, a cottage-like building made with bamboos, terracotta tiles, and yellow allamanda flowers. The temple is located within the campus of the Green Mall, on Bakhrahat Road, Samukpota, South 24 Parganas, West Bengal, India. Unlike temples of other faiths, no rituals are performed at Prakriti Mandir. Green-guru Dinesh Rawat offers a floral garland in the morning, and that's all. No bhog, aarti, or lamps are lit. Instead, Prakriti Vandana and Prakriti Ki Pukar, two musical audio albums consisting of twelve tracks of highly inspiring environmental songs in Hindi and English, are played in the Green Mall campus. Prakriti Vandana and Prakriti Ki Pukar were produced by Dinesh Rawat in 2010 and sung by leading singers in India. These songs have no commercial purpose.

The Green Mall is the largest garden center in India, spread over an area of twelve acres. Its nursery has a large collection of diverse types of plants, from seedlings to mature ones. It also has a large stock of all non-plant items and provides total solutions for landscaping and gardening. Prakriti Mandir is a unique and innovative temple that celebrates the beauty and importance of nature. It is a place where people can come to learn about and appreciate the natural world, and to be inspired to protect it.

#enviormentalism #prakriti #prakritimandir #Dineshrawat #Greenguru #Youtube

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c-40 · 1 year

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A-T-3 167 Psychic TV x Derek Jarman - Catalan

Catalan comes from the bonus EP that came with initial copies of PTV's second studio Dreams Less Sweet. The album could be categorised as Folk Horror today. There are many references to ritual and the occult, some very literal like incorporating words from the last sermon of cult leader Jim Jones, or covering a Charles Mason composition, the sacred vocal music of Thomas Tallis from the renaissance period, binaural environmental recordings of the Hellfire Club caves and Caxton Hall where Aleister Crowley staged his Rites of Eleusis. At the time Pink Floyd had also used binaural recording (which is only now coming into it's own) and like the first PTV album (A-T-2 326) Genesis P-Orridge sweet and unsettling singing reminds me of Sad Barrett, who had become a mysterious cult figure by 1983 (although not intentionally)

Below is Catalan (it's actually The Mad Organist and then Catalan, both from the bonus 12"). Speaking or writing in Catalan was banned under the dictatorship of Francisco Franco. Franco died in 1975 and with it his regime. In 1983 the Catalonian Linguistic Normalization Law made Spanish and Catalan co-official languages in that region. Televisió de Catalunya and it's main channel TV3 was launched in 1983 as a public broadcasting service to cover Catalonia. In 1984 they commissioned Derek Jarman to make a short film in response to the Psychic Tv track. Genesis P-Orridge and Jordi Valls collaborated on the project with Derek Jarman. Catalan begins at 1m30s

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#1983 #psychic tv #folk rock #experimental #england #uk #80s music

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dizzi-with-an-i · 3 years

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GORILLAZ SAY SIKE RN

#gorillaz #i can't take this shit anymore #not them doing NFTs too #THEY LITERALLY MADE AN ENVIRONMENTALISM ALBUM

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years

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Telling Tobey!Peter You’re Pregnant Would Include...

Request: Hello, I was wondering if you could write a Peter Parker (Tobey) imagine or headcanon where the reader (his wife) tells him she’s pregnant with their first child❤️ Could it also be a boy please? Thank you!

Ahhh this is such a sweet request could you IMAGINE his face????

If you enjoy, please support me by commenting and reblogging!!

(I do not own Spider-Man or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @fqjth.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

I’m SCREAMING!!! Can you imagine what Peter would do??? Man would literally collapse face down onto the floor in front of you he would be so over the MOON.

You decide to tell your husband in just kind of a spur of the moment situation. You had thought about doing some big grand event to tell him the news, as Harry and M.J. had been helping you plan out the whole day. You were going to bring him to the New York Hall of Science on the weekend, as Harry had managed to pull some strings and arranged for some of the environmental exhibition panels to morph from their leafy display into: ‘Peter you’re a father!’

But in the end up, just saying the words felt more natural? Just much more... Peter. That connection, that peace and love and easy homeliness just meant a more intimate setting between the two of you just felt right in the moment.

It had been a tranquil, lush spring day - the kind where the streets seemed to sing underneath the honey gold dawn, and the flowers seemed to twirl like feathers along the side walk as the two of you made your way to Aunt May’s home. A cosy, amiable and familiar morning was spent with you and Peter finally helping Aunt May redecorate the downstairs rooms. Whenever Peter took a break to stop spreading the egg shell blue specks along the living room wall, he spent the time sipping lemonade May had left out for the two of you. He would come to where you were spreading red in the kitchen stepladder, wrapping an arm around your waist until you finally came back down to the floor with a big smile on your face.

The painting would end up being left abandoned for the rest of the day. Aunt May comes in with arms full of groceries a couple of hours later, and gasps mildly in surprise when she peers around the living room doorway and spots the two of you lying side by side on the carpet. Peter’s shirt rubs against your back from where his left arm is lying around your back and resting happily against your hip. The two of you are giggling into each other’s faces, you fondly pressing your nose against his and tipping his glasses back up his face. He presses a gentle butterfly kiss against the tip of yours as you pull away, shuffling his thighs closer towards you as he uses his free hand to turn another page of the old photo album.

May decides to treat you all by cooking Peter’s childhood favourite: Lasagne followed by Cherry Pie, and the three of you spend a fond afternoon laughing and reminiscing old stories about the time Peter got stuck in his window when he was sneaking round next door to see you during your fifth year of High School. Or how he was so nervous for your first date that he accidentally tripped over the kitchen table and spilled his whole glass of orange juice over Ben’s head.

Before you leave, May slips over to you while Peter is busy putting back on his coat, and grabbing the jacket he will soon wrap around your shoulders with a lovestruck smile, the same puppy dog eyes he first gave you all those years ago still firmly (and always will be) etched over his features every time he looks at you. Because she just always knows these things, she slips a twenty dollar bill into your hand and pulls you down until she’s whispering into your ear.

‘Now you take this, and you use it for the crib. You take care of yourself now, or I’ll know about it.’

You can find a tear in your eye as she wraps you up in a big hug, nearly lifting you off the ground despite how frail she looks. Peter, being the big loveable dope he is, just wanders over with that merrily content look in his face as he comes behind you and joins the hug without really knowing what’s going on.

It just felt so right - so natural to be starting a family with Peter Parker, that as soon as the two of you finally manage to get the door to your apartment banged open with your joined shoulders, you can’t wait any longer. You just knew it had to be now. So, Peter walks over to loosen his tie and drop it onto the bed, and out of the corner of his eye his Spider-Sense kicks in and he catches you shivering with excitement about something.

With raised eyebrows, he just knows to gently take your hand and lead you down towards the bed. With a big, goofy, questioning smile on his face, he perches the two of you down in front of the metal frame, until your knees are touching. Gently resting your hands in his lap, he lovingly gives you the time you need to form whatever words you need to say - the ones that, at the moment, are catching like thick treacle against the back of your throat.

In the end, you just turn his palms up until you’re cupping the backs of his hands. With a confused squint, he watches as you slowly pull them down and leave them resting gingerly against your stomach, each inch as you stare at his face leaving every nerve in your body tingling with electricity. He rubs gently against your skin with his thumbs, just always so happy to be allowed to be close to you. that for a moment he doesn’t realise that you’re trying to tell him something.

So you just blurt it out.

‘Peter, I’m- I’m pregnant! You’re going to be a father, Peter!’

Sadly, you don’t have your own version of the Spidey-Sense, so you think that he’s taken the news well. He just kind of freezes, that big blank smile still plastered on his face. But those eyes, oh those huge glassy eyes grow wider inch by inch until you’re worried they’re about to pop out of his head. And then his shoulder just kind of sway, and then his chest wavers, and then he straight up rolls his eyes back and collapses down onto the wooden floor as you reach out to try and grab him.

While you’re busy trying to slap his face and wake him up, Mr. Ditkovich is busy banging on your door trying to find out what that massive thump means you’ve broken.

After a few groans, he finally comes round again. And straight away, he seems to come to his senses and pounces on you until you’re flying back and your head hits the pillows. In less than a second flat he’s straddling you, hair messy and mouth wild as he presses loads of little kisses over your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your ears your chin your knuckles your eyelids your-

He’s just saying ‘I love you, I love you I love you I love you’ over and over again between each press of his lips against you. Well, until he realises he may have hurt you and suddenly whips his leg off of you, apologising profusely.

You just grab him by the back of his neck and pull him down, chest first, on top of you again, until you can feel his weight pressed against you. He gives in, of course he does, just melting totally in to you as he pulls you onto his side and just starts manically giggling, dress shoes still on.

He spends the whole night (once you’ve managed to detach his sloth arms from you, that is) with his head lying pressed against your stomach. His nose is flattened against your side, and you can feel his lips move sleepily against your waist as his hand rests on your little baby bump. Even half-asleep, his excitement keeps him wired and awake as he just murmurs things like ‘wow wow wow’ and ‘your momma is the most amazing woman in the whole wild world, I can’t wait for you to meet her.’

Sometimes you wake up to see him in the same position, but now curled up against your body, just humming to your baby. Every so often, he has to stop and giggle because his cheeks are burning bright red with joy and hope and anticipation.

When he’s out as Spider-Man after that, he sits on the perches of buildings a lot as he waits for news from his police radio. He’s sewn a special little pocket down by his heart that he keeps the sonogram in, and he pulls it out just to stroke his finger over it and feel his heart thunder against his breast.

Sometimes you go to clean the suit, and find the material around the bug eyes soaking wet.

He’s really bad at setting up the crib in the corner of your apartment. In the end up, when one of the screwdrivers ends up in the wall, he gives up and uses his web fluid to stick it all together. His favourite part of this endeavour was standing behind you and looking at the slightly crooked final project, rubbing your swollen stomach as he presses his chin into the dip of your neck.

He’s the kind of man to go into a panic and ask if you need him to swing you to the hospital every time the baby kicks.

He comes home with all your shirts and underwear dyed red one day. With a sorry shrug of his shoulders, he finally relents that he wasn’t paying attention to the machine because he was too busy sitting on one of the plastic chairs, the other piled with library books he had taken out about fatherhood.

The two of you go out shopping for baby supplies with a list complied for you by Aunt May. You manage to lose Peter in the toy aisle of one of the department stores, and you finally find him staring wide eyed at a little fuzzy spider toy with yellow booties on each of its legs.

Of course you end up buying it, and you’d think by the high squeaky laugh he gives every time he sees it that he was the kid it was bought for.

When you find out the sex of your baby, Peter is SO overjoyed he honestly just kind of crumples into your lap and starts sobbing (although he would have loved a little baby girl as well).

He’s so so happy, but at the same time he’s so afraid. He doesn’t want his child to end up like him, alone and scared after his parents died.

Your baby is a blessing, and so he’s going to try and be ten times the man he ever was for you. He’s going to finally live up to the man his Uncle knew he could be.

The two of you end up naming your baby boy Ben, and you see him sometimes up in the night. He always knows, just out of his innate paternal instinct when his baby needs him, so he always gets up and lets you sleep. But you wake up, and through the lone few rays of silvery light of moonlight that flood through the window panes you see your husband rocking your child in his muscular arms. Tears are spilling down his cheeks as he rubs his knuckles over his cheek, before going down to tickle his stomach.

He just smiles and cries as he revels in the knowledge that his life is perfect, and he wouldn’t change any bump along the way to finally reach this moment.

#Spiderman #no way home #Tobey Maguire #Peter Parker #Peter Parker imagine #marvel #Spiderman imagine #Spiderman no way home #Peter Parker x reader #Spiderman x reader #Peter Parker headcanons #Spiderman headcanons #tobey!spidey

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murdoc · 3 years

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I'll throw my opinions from Twitter about the Valley of the Pagans vid onto here (edited so it reads a little better):

Even before addressing the elephant sized ending in the room, I was Really not a fan of this vid. Maybe it's because I loved the song since I first heard the leaked demo, and felt it had such great potential as an out there vid... idk. All I know is that it feels like such a wasted opportunity.

Speaking strictly on visuals for a sec, it would've been made a little better just by warping/inverting the colors like Aries and Désolé-- Hell, even just throwing on a preset color filter like Momentary Bliss did would work in its favor.

For a song so upbeat and strange, the visuals that accompany it are so disappointing it feels more like Big Rigs Over the Road Racing than GTA V, haha. I genuinely don't think I'd be as opposed to the gameplay scenes if they matched the tone of the song beyond what we see from the band.

Moving past visuals, my biggest crit of this vid is one I've had for a long while, just to a Much lesser degree.. the phase feels like it's lacking a proper concept.

What made Gorillaz special outside of their unique concept of being a multimedia virtual band that sought to breake the barriers between what could be considered a Real celebrity, is the fact they refused to ride off their past successes. Clint Eastwood, FGI, Dare, etc, were all left in the past for the most part (with some occasional small callbacks) to make room for the future of the band in hopes of topping their past albums.

It's exactly what annoys me a lot about the recent writing too. Not only is it bad, but the writer Refuses to stop bringing up his past jokes to make way for newer, possibly better jokes. By doing this you don't make room for progress or other memorable successes.

Don't get me wrong, I love Plastic Beach. It's a great album, has flawless art, and while the story is riddled with flaws that eventually lessened the core message of the project as a whole, I truly don't mind the attempt to change focus from being irl celebs to having a storyline to some degree, since it was an attempt to try something completely new.. but with that said.. I don't want it back.

It has no need for coming back. Aspects of p3 like the messages of environmentalism and politics, as well as the tone of escapism the island gave (maybe not literal in this case, lol) is something that Should be circled back on-- it's still relevant, it's worth repeating, and the means of going about it aren't limited.. but going back to Plastic Beach? There's no reason for this... Besides cashing in some nostalgia points.

It's just furthering the crutch they seem to have lately of relying on their past successes to pull them forward. The cost of which is leaving a project that doesn't feel as impactful.

I guess I just really wish they'd try something new.

They created this incredibly interesting new format with Song Machine and then didn't really do as much as they could with it. It's like they ran out of ideas or lost view of what made them special :(

I feel it's important to mention, I don't envy being on Jamie's side of the project right now, having to do so much work in so little time.. There's no way crunch isn't happening to make these deadlines. By no means is this me expecting them to make a better product in the short time they've been given.

They've said in the recent past that they're "making it up as they go," and I truly believe in there lies one of the core issues. This format could HEAVILY benefit from some more future planning, but unfortunately that isn't their call to make. (Or mine.) All I know is that the PB callback was a bad move.

Even with planning ahead, some vids of course would have less animation than others, but they could be utilized in better ways by having a clearer view of what they're going for.

Pagans could go from what we saw, to having this vid's "portal" take them into GTA where it's revealed Beck is the one playing playing the game. At some point Noodle gains control of her actions in game and goes for a joy ride through now distorted game footage. Beck could be in a little facecam window when not needing focus on his reactions.

The Machine Bitez commentary could be changed as well to be a bit more lengthier, with Noodle sharing her idea on the vid being how current life feels like others are trying to control her/others & how you shouldn't let that happen, and this vid was a means of representing how they feel in their current lives. Maybe 2D or Russ recommended they use game footage.. IDK!

This isn't great by any means, I'm just thinking out loud without the stress of crunch on my shoulders. That's the luxury we have of just being a spectator in this situation.. I doubt they consider this anywhere near their best vid... But either way, PB being added should have never happened. This project still has so much to offer that Blatant fan pandering should not be what's being resorted to, to hold this up right now.

#text #gorillaz #long post /#in case i get any chuckle masters in the notes saying i should be lucky we have this much content #let it be known im happier to have less content if it means less stress on the team and a better overall quality for the vids #i also wish jamie wasnt in charge of doing the keyframes each vid in hopes thatd give him more room to experiment in his artwork again #the valley of the pagans #also i cant believe i have to say this the fanbase of the band that coined the term reject false icons.. but being critical of media is Good #i am not attacking jamie or damon. im not attacking anyone for liking the vid. youre allowed to dislike something from a thing you love #if i didnt like the band i wouldnt have been so disappointed i typed a novella out

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

Room 73- Chapter 4/8

Summary: D&D is planned, two characters get their very own breakdowns, Thomas reminisces, and Virgil has one good day

Pairings: (eventual) QPP’s Remus and Patton, Pre-Relationship prinxiety, sibling-y Virgil and Original Character, Creativitwins

Read on AO3

Word count: 3326

Warnings: Questionable parenting, period-typical homophobia, the foster system, semi-graphic (?) depictions of violent death, rage breakdown, nervous breakdown, minor arson.

Other notes: None!

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Logan quite frankly had no idea what Janus meant by ‘friendly hissing’. All hissing was a warning sign to potential prey, and wasn’t friendly in any incarnation! How could certain kinds of hissing be friendly? They all sound the same!

This was a level of insanity nearly topping Neil DeGrasse Tyson playing Merlin in the fucking Sharknado movies. But not really. That would top everything. Either way, Janus, someone who also hissed rather often (information citation being Patton) was likely the superior authority in tonal hissing. Logan’s a bit too sleep-deprived looking up resources for ghosts and surviving midterms to care too much.

Either way, the Dungeons and Dragons planning session was starting today. Everyone would be there at lunch this time and that meant that one, he would get to see his brother for the first time since homeroom (no common classes on Wednesdays was not ideal), and meeting with the rest of their newfound friends.

(Logan had never had anyone other than Virgil, and the rest seem to be alright. Janus knows, anyways, and he didn’t hate Logan for it, so it’s probably alright. He hopes it’s alright.)

“Lo-Lo!! Over here!” comes a friendly voice from his northeast. It’s Patton, who’s waving at him, glasses crooked, big smile. Logan fixes his glasses, and tries to smile back. It works, and even feels real.

Patton from up close certainly looks a bit tired, but he’s still happy enough, so Logan refrains from pointing it out.

When they reach the lunch table tentatively labeled as ‘theirs’, Virgil scoots over to let Logan slot between him and Roman, while Patton curls up next to Janus, relishing being with their siblings again, as much as friends are ‘neat’.

(Maybe he’s been getting back into Welcome to Night Vale. Maybe Amma cried and hugged him, calling it progress and Mom sat next to him and listened to her own show, the Magnus Archives and held him close. Maybe Virgil squeezed him tight and brought out the ‘What the Fuck is Happening in Night Vale’ board they’d made when they were twelve. He’d never tell)

Remus starts to hand out sheets of paper, asking everyone to draw their characters while he and Virgil work on plot, and it’s quiet in that little space of three pairs of siblings sketching out D&D characters, later talking about little things, big things and everything in between in the courtyard because the senior kids had exams and therefore none of them had last period. It was pleasant, and they’d all be paying their third ever group visit to Thomas later in the afternoon, too.

This was nice.

…

“Hey, Vi?” Hildi asked from behind him. They were sitting back-to-back, on her bed listening to a new album from All Time Low. The name didn’t matter too much yet.

“Yeah, Di?”

“Wanna do low level arson?” she asked, turning to face him and reclaiming her earbud. This was probably a terrible idea, but Hildi was the one person he wasn’t scared of acting out horrific ideas with. He smiles, and it’s reflected in Hildi’s eyes, dark green like the forest she lives in.

“Sure, why not?” he gets up, and Hildi turns around again for him to take his binder off and put on a sports bra, before putting his jumper (that Patton had given him for his birthday last week) back on, and patting his jean pockets for his phone. Once he knew everything was there, Hildi turned back to him, took his hand and led him outside. - “Okay, so how did you possibly, in any fucking timeline convince me to set fire to your old ‘Secret Diaries’ in the middle of the very flammable woods as if it was, at all, anything REMOTELY RESEMBLING a good idea?!”

“The power of friendship, Virge. Don’t fret, the damages are going to be well hidden in a week.”

“Oh my god but this is how forest fires start, were we crazy?!”

“Virgil calm down, nothing is more than slightly scorched, nothing is dead, and we caught every last ember! You’d know!”

“How would I know? Isn’t that more your department?”

“Spend enough time with a witch, and this is what happens. I regret nothing.”

“I regret so many things.”

“Sadness.” - “Hey, scaredy-bro, Love you.” Hildi whispers into the night, and Virgil remembers nights like this in middle school, when he started to realise that not everyone was as scared as him all the time, and he’d become more scared because everyone was watching, and laughing, and--

And Hildi had been there, a casual acquaintance from primary school becoming his best friend becoming his kind of sister because what other word is there (?), offering him trash earbuds that made the grunge music sound that much grungier, and holding him close on the nights Logan came home, unable to speak, covered in bruises, never letting Virgil tell their parents even though Logan was their twin and Virgil was so scared-- She caught him as he fell, and he hopes that she knows that he’ll forever be grateful for it.

“Love you too, you fucking danger noodle.”

Hildi chucks a throw pillow at him. It misses by at least three feet, falling off the shared bed. They both giggle, loud enough that Hildi’s mum ‘ssh’’s them from her own room, audible even with the closed door.

Three hours later, knowing full well that Virgil’s been on tumblr this whole time, Hildi whispers again.

“Hey, let’s look for Kelpies in the creek tomorrow”

This is an awful idea. But it has fewer environmental ramifications.

“Sure, why not. After December break?”

“Fuck yeah.”

They don’t last a lot longer after that.

…

Virgil wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find when he went to check on Roman, after it was ten minutes past final bell and he still hadn’t shown in the chemistry room after going back to pick up his papers.

Having a minor breakdown was not on that list, even though murder was. Virgil’s brain needed new priorities.

“Ro-Ro, Roman, what’s happening?”

“I-I can’t Virgil, I can't do it, please, I’m sorry” Virgil’s hands clenched tighter onto Roman’s shirt collar, knuckles white from the worry.

“You can't do what, Roman?” he asks, as gently as he can

“I-I’m so scared, Virgil. Mom’s not doing well, Dad’s doing the opposite of helping, and Remus and I don’t know what to do, Virgil. They keep f-fighting. The last time we tried to tell, it was by accident, and Mom had gotten so mad, and she’d said “If you keep talking about how Mom and Dad fight, then there won’t be a mom and dad’ and I can’t-- I can’t live without her, I can’t, Virgil!” Roman blubbers into his shirt, staining his hoodie and and pressing against his (currently unbound, but no big deal) chest, but Virgil literally could not give a shit about his hoodie right then, pulling him closer and cradling Roman’s head in the crook of his neck, one hand in his (fluffy, holy shit is this cotton?) hair, the other cradling his back. Roman smells like wood and some kind of flower.

“Have you told her any of this, Ro?” Virgil asks, and Romab lets out a bigger sob, burying himself into Virgil’s torso. Virgil knew that Roman’s parents weren’t on the best of terms right now, even though they kept trying to be good parents, but this? This was new.

“I c-can’t because-hic- She’ll get more upset, and she’s alsways so close to snapping and i can’t tell dad because he’ll get angry and I can’t tell Remus because he knows but he doesn’t, he doesn’t---fuck”

“Doesn’t?” prompts Virgil, softly into Roman’s hair, muffled by the soft chestnut curls.

“know, not same as I do, he doesn’t get sad, he gets mad, and he doesn’t want to become like dad but he stops talking and locks himself in rooms to not yell at people and I don- I don’t wanna make it worse.” he says softly, and Virgil starts stroking his hair, as a way to try and calm Roman down, trying not to cry a bit himself. He wishes, in a horrible way, that this was a panic attack. He doesn’t know what to do here.

“Could you find a way to maybe more quietly tell her to stay, perhaps?” asks Virgil again, even quieter this time. Roman more feels the words than he hears them, a soothing sort of humming.

“But it’s so selfish, isn’t it? That I think that? She deserves to be happy, and if being without us is happy, then she should, right? But I can’t do this with just my dad- he’s trying, but I can’t, help, please.”

And Virgil doesn’t know what to do, or what to say anymore. So he just holds Roman tighter in that very small corner in the 9-D classroom, and Roman clutches back until he’s cried it out entirely, and is ready to face everyone else. It’s been a few minutes, but they can clean up real quick.

Virgil takes out his spare hoodie and changes into it, Roman with his back turned in the boy’s bathroom, while Roman fixes his hair and washes the drying tear tracks off of his face, which were starting to feel like a mask on his face. He tries for a smile, and it’s small, but at least it’s real.

Virgil passes him a granola bar, and Roman hesitates for a second, before smiling again, taking it in hand and pocketing it. Roman offers his hand for Virgil to take, and he does, feeling the softness of Roman’s hands in comparison to his own, long and calloused with fidget rings on both hands. He squeezes.

Virgil looks up at Roman again, and they share a small smile, before walking out of the bathroom, hand in hand.

Wait- why are his hands glowing?

“Fuck you, Hildi.” he muttered under his breath.

“Huh, what?” Roman looked back at him, questioningly.

“Uh, nothing. Just thinking. ‘Cmon.” he smiles again, and he means it. With Roman, it feels like all his fears can be kept aside for another day.

…

“Oh my god, Remus, no you cannot make yourself a dwarven stripper this is a PG-13 D&D game oh my god--”

Remus looks up from the (probably very gory) conversation he’s having with Patton to reply to Virgil. “And why not? Minnie could be a stripper in the way back!”

“Just… no, thanks.”

“UUUUUGH, you’re no FUN, Virgey.”

“C’mon Bro, you could be… I dunno, a taxidermist?” Remus gets the manic glint back in his eye, snatching his sheet back from Virgil to add in the new information, scribbling frantically. His handwriting is already nigh impossible to read on a good day, so he’d better be able to read his own character sheet.

“Hey Thomas, what do you want to be?” asks Janus, undoing his loops to start a new string game, having finished his character profile- a Tiefling Wizard, about ten minutes ago while Logan became his work partner and roommate (Oh my god they were roommates), a human wizard. Virgil was the DM, therefore without a character other than an ominous voice with anxiety and a god complex at the same time, and Patton and Roman were both Elves, though Patton was an Artificer and Roman was a Bard.

Logan quickly jotted down Thomas’s responding morse code, chuckled, and read it aloud. “He says, and I quote: Can I be the thing that goes bump in the night? But also offer tea and biscuits to wayward travellers.”

Virgil smiles in Thomas’s vague direction, trying to make eye contact with the static. He fails, but Thomas thinks it’s quite nice of him to try.

“You’re too nice, T. I’ll write it down for you.”

You’re too nice

He was too nice to not let them get away with it, to stop them from killing him, to stop them from--

”Oi! You fruitcake, too nice to go running to your boyfriend, huh? Get a taste of this and see whether you’re nice enough to take it.”

He was. He didn’t object to the stuff in the bottle going down his throat, burning up his organs and destroying his body from the inside.

He didn’t have enough vocal chords left to scream, even as the other boy, final year, shook him as if trying to see whether he’s wake up, even as a hole formed in his throat, bleeding and burning and burning and burning--

It’s the last thing Thomas remembers.

“Thomas? Thomas? You’re making static-y noises again. You okay?” it’s Virgil, and it’s been nearly a hundred years and they’re dead and he’s dead and there’s nothing left of anyone he remembers but memories and he pushes aside his last memory, the worst one, to try and think of Valerie, his amazing sister who got to go to his school, sit in the same chemistry room once it was converted into a public school. Terrence, his family friend who came to his gravestone specially when segregation ended, and he could finally come and visit.

Everett, his boyfriend, who kept visiting, every day at four P.M on the dot until he was twenty and left town for college. It feels better to remember them as they were, in loose clothes playing in the woods, hide and seek and dolls and Valerie-the-Nurse and Everett-The-Soldier and Thomas-The-Film-Star and finding ways to get Terrence away to play with them too, as Terrence-The-Mechanic who could fix anything, even emotional problems as their Mom’s tittered and their fathers scowled but they didn’t matter because they were having fun.

He snaps out of it proper when Virgil manages to locate his hand, semi-visible ...

Patton’s pulling at his hair, not enough to fall out but enough to hurt, Sarcastrophe by Slipknot raging through his headphones and he knows that this is bad for his hearing, but at this point if it can drown out the absolute rage pounding in his mind, then going deaf is worth it.

He doesn’t even know why he’s mad. It’s just there and he’s screaming into his sleeves, tears caking on his face for moments before the anger arrives again and there’s a new layer of saltwater on top of it, endlessly endlessly going and he can’t stop it and why can’t it just stop--

There’s someone calling. It’s Remus. And Patton has to be happy and he thinks he might just implode with the… everything building up in him, but he has to do this so he picks up the phone.

“Hi Patty-Cakes!” The nickname makes him want to puke, even though he doesn like it, but he swallows the imaginary bile in his throat and replies.

“H-Hey, Remus.”

“Patton? You alright?” No, not at all he wants to scream and kick and cry but also freeze and never move again and his head hurts and there’s a pit in his stomach that won’t go away!

“YEAH! Uh, yeah. I’m good.” he sniffles, and he hopes Remus didn’t pick up on it. Judging by the silence on the other end, he probably did.

“Pat, please, tell me what’s wrong. I won’t say anything. Just let it out. It usually works for Roman and I, but just- see for yourself, okay?” Remus sounds a little concerned, a little desperate, and Patton thinks Remus can hear him trying to stifle his crying. He tries a little harder and all that comes out is one long moan with hitches for cries and the tears are drying, and Remus starts again, concerned, but Patton can’t hear, because the tears are catching up again and he’s screaming again and his fingernails have cut little red crescent moons into his cheek and it drips a little and Remus is still talking, soothingly and Patton latches onto that voice like it’s the only thing that could possibly carry him through this because it damn well feels like it.

He hears footsteps but not really, too focused on trying to regain control of his breathing, following Remus’s count.

When it's been a few minutes of following the count, and Patton’s breathing has evened out, he wipes off his face in his old faithful broom skirt, always ready for days like these, and he buries himself a little further into his hoodie, covering with it the phone on his ear.

“Patty--”

“No, not that, please.”

“Patton, Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, actually, but he doesn’t really see the point, since nothing lasts for him. He’s a fucked up foster kid ™ style. Good things don’t happen to him. (Maybe to Janus. Janus deserves good things, good people, better than him--)

“Why wouldn’t this last? And you’re a foster kid?” fuck, he said that aloud? Well, rest in fucking pieces, brain to mouth filter.

“Yeah, f-foster kid here.”

“Janus too?”

“Yeah.” he whispers, throat too tired for anything else. He’s not ready for the universal ‘how’ question, but he’s not been prepared for any of this so far, so maybe he should just not bother.

“Okay. Do your foster parents show any signs of wanting to let you go?” no, not really. In fact, he’d seen Remy and Emile trying to quickly hide a sheaf of papers any time Patton or Janus entered a room, and Patton’s been pushing down the hope as much as possible, even as he sees Janus start to believe it eventually. Patton has to be ready for something to go wrong, he can’t afford to let down his guard, lest he can’t protect Janus anymore. He has to make sure nothing can faze him.

But he wants. He wants so, so badly that sometimes he lies in bed for hours, pushing down the want and trying his best not to cry, until it’s morning and he’s waking Janus up even though he could barely push himself out of bed. He says this to Remus, because he still wants. He wants to stay near Remus forever, recite oddly dark facts and binge-watch the Sharknado movies again while Logan and Janus screech in betrayal and huddle up close and he wants to have this. He wants this so badly.

“Pat, I didn’t know how to say it, but I want to be with you forever too. You like my weird facts, and you stay by me when I’m mad and I want to be there when you’re sad, Patton. I want this too.”

“R-really?”

“Of course, Patton. I don’t lie. Especially not to you.” Patton laughs, somewhat wetly, and Remus’s tone brightens when he hears it, and Patton can feel the smile on the other side of the line, manic-looking but inherently full of kindness, and everything feels a little more okay.

The hurt isn’t gone, but at least he isn’t forcing it down into his large intestine anymore.

“Thanks, Re. I-I’ll talk to Emile and Remy when they come home, okay? I’ll tell you what happened. See you in school tomorrow?”

“Course, Patton. Now I’m gonna go get something for Roman to eat before his stomach acids digest his entire body, eyes and all.”

Patton laughs. “Okay! Just don’t miss your therapy appointment, okay?”

“Never do. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call finally cuts off, and the timer reads 37:19:73, and he probably spent a good chunk of that time having a breakdown, but strangely enough, Patton doesn’t feel super bad about it. The want is there, and he’s still not super sure about what to do with it, but he knows that he wants it to be real, and even if something does go wrong, he’ll still have Remus’s number.

The door swings open as Janus enters the house, and creaks closed downstairs, and Patton flops onto his bed, eyes still a little red, putting his phone on charge to take a nap. He’ll have emotionally charged conversation, but after this nap, thanks.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #prinxiety #intruality #tw foster system #tw homophobia #vee's writing #series: room 73

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unscharf-an-den-raendern · 4 years

Text

Translation:

Kraftwerk: We’re a radio station

Photo caption: Kraftwerk, dressed up for rich uncle Alois’ birthday; in the middle Florian Schneider-Esleben (above) and Ralf Hütter.

For almost two years, Kraftwerk didn’t go on stage in this country and you had to go abroad to see them live. On October 10th they played in the well-visited Roundhouse in London where some people even started dancing and enthusiastically singing along to the German lyrics. It was their last concert on a five week European tour through Holland, Belgium, Switzerland, Austria, France and England. Asked for a summary of the trip, Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider, who always give interviews together, answer with a short “correct”.

Ralf: It was our first European tour, last year we only played in America for three months. Now it’s Europe’s turn because our new album will be “Transeuropa Express”. And this tour was so to speak a mental stimulus for the LP.

ME: What did you find most striking in America?

Florian: It made us realize where we actually come from, who we are and why we affect people so strongly. We noticed a strong effect, a big astonishment.

Ralf: This incredible distance, flying over the transatlantic literally gave us confidence. Suddenly you see yourself standing on stage like an observer.

ME: Did that make you more free?

Ralf: A bit. It was always incredibly hard for us here. While we were accepted, our things didn’t catch on. They always called us weirdos, tinker freaks. While the people in America immediately accepted us, just like we accepted ourselves.

Florian: Even though they were a hard audience to some extent. Rockers...

Ralf: ...they were really into it, started dancing... That brought us further. In Germany, we might have isolated ourselves even longer, would have become paranoid. There we could come out of our shell and now we go even further.

Florian: Our breath became longer, we can blow more into it.

Ralf: We also had a lot of colored people in the audience. In Germany, a lot of people still think our music is just culture. Some people there called it space boogie or techno boogie.

Florian: One guy spontaneously said that one of our songs was like a boogie from a typewriter and a vacuum cleaner gone wild. I agree with some of it, there are real comics going on, the machine plays itself.

ME: You have a lot of new machines, what’s on stage actually?

Ralf: I have a laser light organ. It’s made in America and better than a Mellotron. You have optical records that produce the sound and are scanned by laser light pressure.

Florian: Of course, that system has existed since the film era.

Ralf: I also have a sequencer, an automatic music machine that plays the repeating melodies.

ME: That sounds a bit like a fortepiano?

Ralf: Yes, diddle-dee diddle-dee...and then our two small synthesizers.

ME: Unlike before, one hears a lot of voices and vocals in your songs now.

Ralf: I’m particularly interested in the human voice. We worked with it a lot in the last two years because we sometimes develop certain motives out of the human voice. I only use human vocals on the optical records, sometimes violins...not just instrumental music like before but pre-recorded human voices, speech, words, poetry and that speaking typewriter.

ME: Is that the monster voice announcing you?

Ralf: Yes, that’s a completely artificial voice, a talking machine.

Florian: A speech computer. When you press “a” it says “a”. The keyboard is extended so you can not only enter letters but also diphthongs, brighter, deeper, etc.

Ralf: We also have those two electric drum kits and the light barrier drum kit.

Florian: So, when the light barrier is broken it triggers the contact. It drums. And we also built something ourselves, an electronic flute, a magic flute.

Ralf: All instruments we developed with our engineers are patented. We want to mass-produce them so other people can play on the as well.

Florian: Then you can play eletric drums at home. You can just connect them to your stereo system.

Ralf: These electric instruments are a lot easier to play because you can translate a sound idea much more directly. You can’t reproduce a car on a piano that easily.

Florian: It’s electronic home music, a lot of people are writing to us, saying they’re interested it in.

ME: How are your songs created?

Ralf: In the studio through fumbling around, coincidences or by playing around; through mental drafts, so work on the drawing board, or just sound finds on the instruments. Or at concerts, sometimes we play a song on and on and then a new song grows out of it like a tree branch.

Florian: We’re in state where we could play basically anything. Of course we need some distance between idea and realisation sometimes. But the path has become very short by now.

ME: Would you find it derogatory if I referred to your music as naive electronic?

Ralf: Hard to say, some call it intellectual, some call it naive...

Florian:..simple

Ralf: I think it’s everything at once.

ME: I think that Electronic is particularly transparent and comprehensible in your band.

Ralf: Yes, transparent, that’s better. We also want everyone to be able to recognize what we’re playing right away. We don’t want to convey something else with these means, something behind the stage, but only what’s up front. That’s also why we have the neon lights standing behind us so we’re transparent.

ME: A lot of your songs have environmental sounds as a topic?

Ralf: We’re interested in acoustic phenomena all over the world and that’s something we can convey now. It would be best if the people who walk out after our concerts and no longer consider the sounds around them as noise (of course only those that aren’t damaging to hearing) but consider them to be normal environmental sounds. The world of sounds is music.

ME: Do you always have a specific concept for your albums?

Ralf: We don’t write twelve songs, one about love, the next one about pants, the third one about football. Even when the things are different, cut-ups, there’s always a red line running behind it. It’s always there, latent.

ME: Even when you’re playing tapes?

Ralf: Yes, we also play tapes and cassettes. Then someone presses the button and leaves the stage. We show exactly what we do.

ME: Why tapes anyway?

Ralf: A tape is an instrument too, an acoustic machine.

ME: You have a very differentiated and unusual stage show now. Slides, the metal cage where a head danced up and down in black UV light, the signal play with the hands which trigger the impulses at the light barrier drums at the same time. Are you planning even more?

Ralf: The man in the UV cage is the prototype, we did that for the first time on this tour. But we want to show even more clearly that this is some kind of man-machine, a kind of ballet - dancing and making music at the same time through movement, so making music while dancing.

ME: You are remarkably concerned with Radio. I’m not just thinking about the last LP.

Florian: It’s a homage to the radio, the first electronic studio that existed. Back then, people like Stockhausen always made music directly on the radio.

Ralf: We always listened to it in the past. It was called Nachtmusik (night music). That’s our background too, that’s why we had the idea to form a completely electronic band. In America the people always asked for the reason and we only realized it when we remembered how this Nachtmusik fascinated us. When it was completely dark and we had to go to bed and could listen to the transistor radio from under the sheets. We’re interested in the radio awareness/ consciousness (translator’s note: “Bewusstsein” can mean both of these things, I don’t know which one Ralf meant).

Florian: And everyone can try these things out themself. When you tune in on a station on the radio and hear the pre-formed information, how it’s meant to be, you just have to tune out a bit, for example at night on short wave and you hear the craziest sounds, morse codes, pure sounds, it’s insane. Radio Cairo and so on...This idea, album as radio...

Ralf: That fascinated us immensely. We always wanted an own...we saw ourselves, Kraftwerk, in the Kling Klang Studio as a radio station. But it’s not legally possible in Germany. In America we met guys from our generation with their own radio stations, somewhere out of town in an old mansion. And they broadcast into the night from there, just like they want to, right off the bat...

Florian: They have their own radio programmes.

Ralf: ...and just send their very own thoughts into the ether...and we see ourselves as a private radio station.

#kraftwerk #this was a bit hard to translate #they speak very eloquently

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philosophy-juice · 3 years

Text

OMIGOSH @breadpunk7 i literally just saw this!!!!!!!! thanks for tagging me!! question time........

name/nickname: mya... can’t really do much with a three letter name (my middle name is rae tho and some people call me roo!)

gender: nonbinary (maybe genderfluid? not too sure about labels lately but it’s all good)

star sign: taurus sun, cap moon, sag rising

height: 5′4

birthday: may 5

time: 11:38 am aka i just woke up like an hour ago

favorite bands: ok HARD QUESTION but right now im listening to tons of taylor swift (cowboy like me and ivy have my entire heart), rilo kiley, liz phair (having a mid 90s moment i suppose), gorillaz (new album slaps), james blake, everything everything, georgia, joseph (THEYRE SO UNDERAPPRECIATED), xray spex, and the joy formidable.

favorite solo artists: ahhhhhh right now several of the people i mentioned above, also listening to lots of old blues and jazz artists like ella fitzgerald; hozier, marie-pierre arthur (she’s quebecois and her music is so pretty), and patti smith

last movie: fellowship of the ring for the nine millionth time, BUT i’ve been trying to find wolfwalkers cause i wanna watch it so bad..... i love cartoon saloon we stan small independent animation studios

last show: bridgerton, but only first ep so far

when did I create this blog: i’ve been on tumblr since like 2011 but i made this blog in...... 2016 i wanna say?

what do i post: who’s to say

last thing googled: adoption centres near my city cause my family’s trying to find a dog :))))

other blogs: @brushstrokebees my semi-cottagecore-y blog but it’s got a couple other things going on too and @garagesalerock where i [sometimes] make lyric edits [usually on request]

do i get asks: sometimes!!

why i chose my url: dumb pun i drew in comic form in middle school about hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy and me being in the midst of a semi-intellectual phase; it was a glass of orange juice and it said ‘philosophy juice - only 42 calories in every half glass’

following: 466 but ive been meaning to go through them all again cause lots are inactive/blogs about things im not into as much anymore (i think that also includes my other two blogs?? not sure)

followers: 89 heck yeahhh

average hours of sleep: anywhere from 4 to 10 on the average day, but when uni is going usually like 7/8

lucky number: probably 5!!

instruments: ive played piano for a super long time, same with alto saxophone all through school but i haven’t played since i graduated; i also play guitar (but still super rusty) and i sing a lot!! i’d like to learn viola or violin, bass, and some other kind of wind instrument

what am i wearing: booty shorts and a thrifted sweater...... and some space themed earrings i just got in the mail from a really cool artist i follow on twitter

dream job: published author!!!! that’s my dream. but i’m hoping to get some sort of career in conservation, climate change research, sustainable planning and development, or something in those realms since i’m getting my degree in environmental sciences and geography :))

dream trip: iceland!! and i’d also love to do a road trip up to the arctic circle here in canada. my other top places i wanna visit are argentina (esp patagonia, and taking a boat down to antarctica), taiwan with my best friend who’s from there, new zealand, turkey, greece, egypt, and way too many other places. also back to scotland cause hopefully i’ll be living there one day!

favorite food: anything that is pasta. i also love creme brulee (for a favourite dessert) and this thing called cranachan that’s like, whisky and raspberries and homemade whipped cream and oatmeal and it is. sublime. way too many other foods tho............ (if astrology isn’t real why am i a taurus that can’t stop thinking about food)

nationality: canadian

favorite song: oof yeah no can’t decide that but a top contender that i listened to for the millionth time this morning is all these things that i’ve done by the killers

last book read: reading the scottish boy by alex de campi and i am VERY MUCH enjoying it (there’s def some kinda iffy aspects to it, but it’s gorgeously written. and im a sucker for lgbtq historical fiction. so) it’s literally about a knight and his semi-squire in medieval britain who fall in love amidst political turmoil. the other book im in the middle of is gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir and if you’re reading this you’re now contractually obligated to read it. PLEASE IM SO ALONE AND IT’S A MASTERPIECE

top three fictional universes i’d like to live in: lotr, zelda, animal crossing...... anything where i can be freed from the chains of neo-liberal capitalism and maybe have some magic as a treat

#tag yourself #questions #asks #breadpunk7 #about #blabs

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awrldalone · 4 years

Text

26th July 2020, 6.18pm

My feet hurt because I’ve walked so much. That’s what you do in the mountains, of course, but I must say I don’t like it that much. It’s not like i don’t enjoy going for a walk, it’s just that the whole concept of seeing the same thing over and over - the mountains and the valleys are all similar to me - and sweating and being cold a second later, when the sun is covered by a passing cloud.

In cities - i.e. London, Rome, Paris, any city with a big cultural heritage - I love walking around, going from landmark to landmark, from museum to museum. It’s fun, it’s exploring. I can take tonnes of pictures. On the other hand, here, pictures start looking all the same after a while.

This morning, at one oh nine a.m., to be precise, my crush - I finally have to admit that I do feel for him something which could be categorised as love - texted me and asked if it was okay if he talked to other people. It’s not like he had to ask, honestly. I played it cool, I told him that he should have not even asked and then he started talking about this other boy. It hurt. It really did. I was walking and walking and texting with my crush about the boy he likes. And it hurt and it hurt and it hurt, like when you sprain your ankle and you keep walking, but in your chest, and every heartbeat aches. It wasn’t fun.

I was mad, honestly. When I told him I liked him he told me that things would not work because he’s asexual - which is completely valid - and although I was iffy about his “excuse” - he had literally said the day before that I’d be the perfect boyfriend - as I do not think relationships have to be inherently sexual, I just accepted it. A few days later he started talking about another boy - who was an asshole, by the way - but he quickly lost interest. And so I thought that it might have been because of distance. I thought he just did not want to hurt my feelings - we’re not that far away, after all.

But his new flame lives literally in a city next to mine. That hurt. A lot. Because it just means he probably hates me. Or that he sees me as a friend. Or that he just wants to use me when he’s bored.

But as with each and every one of my heard feelings, i will just bottle it up and hide it somewhere far fucking away. And eventually it will disappear. Glass bottles take one million years to decompose (that’s an estimate by The New Hampshire Department of Environmental Services.) and by that time I’ll be dead, and when the liquid of my feelings will spill no one will care. Not even my buried bones.

I ate some bread and some honey-smoked caciotta for lunch. I would have preferred to just eat a salad or something, but it would have just been impossible. And then I got back and now I don’t feel much for B.

My feet hurt, I took a shower and I’m probably going to cook some tofu.

Today a good thing happened, though. Lana stans - for future reference, stan is a term that was coined by Eminem in a song of his, it’s the mix of stalker and fan. Nowadays it just means hardcore fan, someone who has a fanpage on an artist or who just knows everything about them - made the hashtag “WeLoveYouLana” trend on twitter. I’m mainly a Lana stan, and I was really proud of us because it was in response of people calling her racist when she’s not and body shaming her for no reason. She looks healthy and happy, which is all that matters. We also decided - I’m especially proud of this one because I started the whole thing - that we will make a different hashtag trend each day up until the release of her spoken word album “Violet Bent Backwards over the Grass”, which comes out in two days.

I’m really really looking forward to hearing her recite her poems; I hope they are good. She’s an amazing lyricist and in one of the tracks from Norman Fucking Rockwell! (God, she’s so weird with names.) rather than singing a song she’s singing a poem. It’s probably one of my favourite songs ever. Hope Is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman Like Me to Have – but I Have It. As I said, she’s become weirder and weirder with naming things.

-c.

#diary #lana #lana del rey #norman fucking rockwell #i'm heartbroken #gay #lgbt+#queer #writing #writer #mountains #cottagecore #my feet fucking hurt

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ladyoutlier · 5 years

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Nothing too original but: Some first date / first kiss would be lovely! Oh and also Crowley in cute panic mode when Aziraphale finally catches up to him romantically.

Read on AO3

It had been seventeen hours and 42 minutes since Aziraphale had told Crowley that he loved him. The demon would have the time memorized down to the second, but he had been too stunned by the returned declaration of love that the second, and quite a few more, had passed before he had regained his composure.

And after that moment, time had slipped away. Ooey gooey, mind-melting, light-headedness of having 6000 years worth of pining finally pay off would do that even to Satan himself. Y’know, if Satan ever found himself in that position—which was far from likely, although no one really knew who the Antichrist’s mother was. Crowley was exceptionally vulnerable to it, but Aziraphale did that to him. Made him lose his composure, even if it usually was only internally.

At some point the sun had risen, and a night full of talking about things Crowley never thought he would say out loud had passed. At roughly eight sharp, Aziraphale had suggested that Crowley go off to water his plants and meet him back here at his bookshop at three. Perhaps they would spend the afternoon somewhere. Perhaps Hyde Park. He didn’t say first date directly, but they both knew that’s what it was. They had their own wordless way of speaking that only a millennium or two of frequent interactions could create.

Crowley did not water his plants at his flat. There was so much more to do. Planning. Oh so much planning. How did dates even work? He had his fair share of seduction jobs in the past, but those didn’t really follow up with an ongoing relationship. Dates were practically as foreign to him as Heaven itself. You dress up for them, yeah? But a park was hardly a place to sport a penguin suit. Bring flowers? That’s a thing. There’s a whole language to that though. Certain flowers mean specific things, and as big of a plant enthusiast as Crowley was, he had no idea what meant what. Ask a flower person? Botanists? No, they were called florists. There had to be one of those nearby. Did he have time for that? Surely. Worst case, he’d miracle himself some more.

Would it be too cheesy for him to play “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” on the ride? Yeah, probably. He really should’ve thought this out more. Well, he did. Quite a lot over the centuries. But all those thoughts found themselves submerged deep within himself to face tortures worse than the most vile punishments of Hell. He could vow for that.

If he had known that he actually had a shot with Aziraphale—that one day they’d be actually be going on a date together—maybe he would’ve let those thoughts play out a bit more. If he had properly started preparing for this as early as the Wall of Eden, he’d probably be a whole lot more confident and a whole lot more calm right now. He couldn’t stop pacing around.

Maybe flowers were too cliche. Too puppy love teenager mushy rubbish. But a gift was necessary. That’s what these things were all about. A thank you for giving a horrible demon a chance. A symbol of love. Yeah, that was still weird. Aziraphale really did love him. Wow. Isn’t that something? Might as well have dumped a bucket of holy water on him because that thought alone melts him into a pool on the linoleum.

He could always steal that book back from that American girl with the glasses. Aziraphale had really liked that thing, although he probably wouldn’t be all that happy with him immorally acquiring it. AH! If his heart could calm down for just three seconds, he could think a bit clearer. Maybe he’d just get rid of it. Not like he needed it after all. But that wouldn’t be very nice. Not that he wanted to be nice. Just he wouldn’t even be here without that infernal organ.

He could pull a Van Gogh but instead of an ear just give Aziraphale his whole heart. Two problems solved: the irritating beating and the present. Problem with that was that Aziraphale already had his heart.

He needed something with weight to it. Something that showed Aziraphale both how long and how much he loved him. Something one of a kind, but not flashy or showy. Aziraphale wasn’t one for things like that.

He had to have something that fit those qualifications. He kept quite a few souvenirs over the centuries. But did any of them—oh. Oh, he had the perfect thing.

“Hey boy where do you get it from

Hey boy where did you go?

I learned my passion in the good old fashioned school of loverboys”

“Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” did end up playing on the drive although Crowley swore the disc he picked wasn’t a Queen album. The demon was really glad that he had red hair because that certainly helped hide the pink tinge the tips of his ears had taken.

Aziraphale had been silent regarding the song except for a brief “Lovely tune, isn’t it?” before going back to talking about all sorts of things Crowley could listen to all day. The angel could be talking absolute bollocks, and he would still hang on every word.

Although Hyde Park wasn’t nearly as lovely as St. James’s Park, the change of scenery was very much appreciated. Plus, a new location very much fit with the theme of them being on a new level of their relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves on a nice bench in front of the river. An enormous tree rested in the middle of the path beside them. It seemed that instead of disrupting the giant, the humans had simply built around it. One of the rare examples of their environmental consciousness.

Of course, no appropriate first date at the park would be complete without a picnic lunch, and Aziraphale had thought of just that. He ruffled through his basket, which Crowley had called grandmotherly, and pulled out a few cucumber sandwiches. It was a light lunch, but for one, they didn’t actually need to eat, and two, they were likely to find themselves at some place for dinner in only a handful of hours.

Whether or not Crowley was one for eating was no one else’s business. It was also no one’s business how he ate if he did. As such, whether or not he actually ate the cucumber sandwich and how in that case it was devoured, remains a mystery. All that is known is that said sandwich was gone before Aziraphale had gotten halfway through his which wasn’t that surprising considering that the angel is a horribly slow eater.

“You know, this river’s called The Serpentine,” Aziraphale said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Thought you would find that amusing.”

Crowley leaned onto the back of the bench and scoffed. “That why you wanted to go here?”

“Maybe.”

Crowley grinned. The mood was playful. The atmosphere was calming. They had a nice lunch. There wasn’t a human in sight. Everything was grand. If now wasn’t the time, when was?

“Got you something, angel.”

The demon reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in a silky black (for what other color would it be?) cloth. Aziraphale eyed him with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he took the gift. As he unwrapped it, Crowley turned to look out over the oddly named river. Still, thanks to his sunglasses, his eyes were on Aziraphale.

As the last of the fabric fell away, what was left behind was a small display box. Like one a person would use for a scientific sample of a raw gemstone. Through the see-through lid of the box, the angel could see a chunk of white stone. It wasn’t natural or glittery in nature. No, it looked man-made as if it once belonged in the entrance of a grand bank.

“Thank you, dear.” He turned the box over in his hand. “Although I do think I’d be a bit more appreciative if I, um, knew exactly what it was.”

“‘S part of the Eastern Gate.” Crowley stretched out on the bench. The more relaxed his posture was, the more he could pretend this was an everyday occurrence.

“Oh, Crowley. You don’t mean Eden’s Eastern Gate?”

“Course I do. Was where I met you. Place was collapsing after Adam and Eve got evicted.”

“Do think that was your fault, love.”

“I merely offered them an alternative. Entirely their fault they chose it. But anyways, figured God didn’t care much for the upkeep of the place considering that the wall could hardly be serving a purpose crumbled down, so I took a brick.”

“And you’ve managed to carry it around for quite literally all of time?”

“Well, not on my person but yes. It’s a good memory. Part with you I mean. The rest was pretty bland.”

“And you’re just giving it to me?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? Don’t need it anymore now that I got you.”

Someone else might have not been able to tell whether Crowley’s remark was meant as a compliment or not, but to Aziraphale, who knew the demon’s tendency to give nuanced comments of admiration, it was dreadfully obvious what he meant. One does not simply have something for 6000 years and just give it up like it’s nothing. Aziraphale doubted there even was anything else left of the Wall of Eden besides this piece. Centuries of weathering and erosion would have ensured that. This was more than a time capsule. It was all that was left of the beginning. The only thing that could bring them back to their first moments together. And Crowley had given it to him just like that. The angel only regretted that he had nothing to give the demon in return.

“I’m at a loss for words. This is so sweet, Crowley. I really just can’t believe you’ve been holding on to it for all this time.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Aziraphale found himself doing something he very much wanted to but didn’t actually tell himself to do. He leaned over to the demon, still cupping the box in his hands, and kissed him right on the cheek. “Thank you.”

If Crowley thought his pink ears in the car was bad, he should’ve had a mirror for this moment. His complexion rivaled that of Satan’s in the red department. Somehow his sunglasses found themselves slid down the bridge of his nose. He was quite literally petrified. Maybe not as much as last night when his relationship with Aziraphale had started, but it was a close second.

“Too much?” Aziraphale asked, hesitantly.

“Do—do it again,” Crowley fumbled out as his mouth began to work once more.

“Gladly.”

The angel pulled him into another kiss, but this time, instead of landing on the cheek, it met with his lips. One would think that after 6 millennia of longing, nothing could live up to that desire. One would be very wrong.

They held each other in a kiss that went on and on. Hands became involved, and they bound together as if they were always meant to be one. A shard of Eden was the only thing between them. And what happened next? Well, that’s their own personal business.

#Good Omens #Good Omens fic #Ineffable Husbands #my writing #asks #alittam

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