#wannabe a frog records

[musicforthemassesus]

Il genere è ORGANIC HOUSE e il viaggio mistico/musicale è garantito

We ignite human connection by leveraging the power of music.

#organichouse #label #wannabe a frog records #Into Your Tribe #newmusic #The Frog Collective #EP #Bedouin #RMX #Guy Laliberté #Soul of Zoo #music #dj #santinix

[anexcoyotl]

#SoundCloud #music #Wannabe A Frog Records #Guy Laliberte #The Frog Collective #Deep World #Organic House

[reyraccoon]

*falls through the door*

did someone say cinderella au-

pls do elaborate

Jshdjwdjd OKAY for the record- I haven’t really thought it through, so things are subject to change- change to whatever makes me laugh the most xD This is mostly a parody with the sole purpose of making fun of Anne losing her shoe (hehe sole)

This ended up being longer than I anticipated so gonna put it under the cut. Pull up a chair and get ready for some nonsense.

But okay okay

CinderAnne, shoe loser extraordinaire, can’t go a week without losing her shoe. It’s always the right one too, it’s very annoying. It somehow always comes back but it also disappears just as easily

She has to learn responsibility or some shit, every time she loses her shoe she can just Hear her mother’s ghost scolding her in Thai… She is not dead (as if Mrs. Boonchuy could be defeated by death) but Anne hasn’t talked to her or her dad in a long time

The Boonchuy parents sent her to America to live with a family friend(?) while she studies, or at least figures out what to do with her life. They’re way too busy managing their very successful restaurants in Bangkok. They send money to Anne for whatever she needs… which Andriass pockets for himself and his precious “overlords” Wannabe Punk little shits that are never seen separated and speak in unison (they give Anne the creeps and rather than names just refers to them as a collective “The. Night/core”)

Not only does Anne not receive the money her parents send her, AndriAss ensures she doesn’t get to talk to them, intercepting their letters, making excuses when they call and telling Anne “no they are not available to speak to you nor do they want to, silly, you are not responsible enough” again the freaking responsibility- a girl loses a shoe constantly and automatically everyone assumes she is irresponsible-

Andriass can’t allow Anne having a life, God forbid she learns independence and reconnects with friends or family, so he gives her all the chores in the (huge) house. He is also in charge of tutoring Anne so you know she gets an unholy amount of assignments and homework to study

Anne: is this abuse?

Andriass: What? Of course not. This is all according to your parents wishes

Meanwhile, Sasharcy is alive and strong. Imagine Romeo and Juliet but when they declared their love for one another the families were like “k” just super chill about it. The Waybright’s and the Wu’s are just super rich and a huge deal in town. They’re practically royalty… The big W’s. (No idk why I’ll figure it out) Anne, having been isolated since she moved doesn’t know about them- all she knows is there’s going to be a Huge party- supposedly an engagement party? Ah who cares! She WILL go to that party so help her frog-

She definitely needs to go out, she can’t keep having conversations with the frogs in the backyard- yes she made them little clothes it was for Science purposes shut up.

Anne actually completed all her tasks and was sure this show of Responsibility(Tm) would convince Andriass to let her go to the party. That is until he looks down and points out that her shoe is missing.

“It’s not lost! It’s- it’s gotta be in the backyard!” But Andriass doesn’t care about this have fun digging for a shoe CinderAnne!

She found the shoe, but it didn’t matter. There was no way she could go… Andrias took his overlords and left to the party.

Anne was sure she was losing it when she first started talking to the frogs, so when this being called Valeriana just appeared out of nowhere and claimed to be her fairy godmother she accepted the fact she had finally snapped and went with it. The frogs are now her companions to the party and they’re going in a limo, if you look important enough no one will question your presence regardless of “being on the guest list” or any of that nonsense right?

Valeriana just outright gives Anne all she needs for the party, ride, outfit and-

Anne: Dude wtf glass slippers?

Valeriana: Yes! These are magic slippers, they won’t break and they are the perfect fit so they won’t fall- why are you taking them off?!

Anne: I am wearing my normal shoes. If I am wearing this huge dress no one can see them anyways and I am NOT dancing on glass slippers

Valeriana: well the prophecies do have a line about shoes but-

Anne: Can you talk normally please? Jeez

That will definitely end well

That’s all I will write for now because it’s already too much and I have schoolwork lmao

Again this isn’t set in stone and may be changed if something better/funnier is brought up, suggestions and thoughts are welcomed!

#i am open to ideas!! #let this be an amphibia community team effort #CinderAnne au #OUR Au #cue the communist music #amphibia #amphibia shitpost #anne boonchuy

[sailingintothenight]

“WANNABE.” T.H. Imagine.

And what if after years of chasing each other like a cat and mouse, you and Tom started to wonder if you wanna be something else in each other's life?

A/N: I am posting a one shot after weeks of writer's block. I hope you like it. It's 9:30 pm in Peru and it's still April 28, so it's still my birthday! Give it a try. Pleaseeeeee! And yes, I borrowed a scene from Mean Girls (Because I loveeee that movie)

“Hello God, it's me again, (y/n). What's up? I know we haven't talked much lately, but, hey, listen, I have a favor to ask you- I have behaved well, I haven’t gotten drunk at any crazy party of any Hollywood star and I haven't accepted drugs, ever: I'm afraid my grandmother will appear in my room as a ghost and pull my blankets in the middle of the night, plus, I haven't make out with any Stone-cold Hollywood hottie, and trust me, I've had more than one chance. Anyway, about the favor–”

"Yes, but (y/n)'s grandfather invited us to his birthday party..."

Tom's voice startles you and cuts off your internal dialogue, turning you back to the reality.

It’s 6 am. The sun shines in the clear sky, and you are on a flight back to England in a luxury privet jet that is about to arrive at the airport, while Haz, Harry, Tom and you are sitting in comfortable velvety seats, with the view of morning sky on your left side. 

The exciting memory of your last recording still seemed to run through your veins, too exciting to let you sleep. Because that was the end, the goodbye after incredible months. All your efforts from the past months were hidden behind that last performance that looked like a fantasy, except for the kiss, ugh, you had to erase it from your mind. But now, you're going back home, ready to take a break away from the set-up bridge and blue and green backgrounds, away from the makeup artists who gave your face the final touches of the magic of Hollywood, far from the suit of a superhero who had just won her last battle and who got the cute boy, Peter Parker.

But not far away from Tom Holland.

Because evil takes a human form in Tom Holland, your lifelong neighbor.

How do you even begin to explain Tom Ho– Stop, people say that if you pronounce his name 3 times a curse falls on you.

But fans say Tom Holland is flawless, you heard his curly hair is insured for 10,000 dollars, his favorite movie is “Spider-man Homecoming”, duh, and very soon, “far from home”. One time he met Robert Downey Jr. in his own village and he started hyperventilating, and once he threw a fan's phone on the floor and she said it was awesome.

"Please don't tell me you're going to his birthday party." You complain, because you can't help it.

"Would that bother you that much, darling?" Tom smiles, tilting his head back so that his tender smile fits perfectly with his tender face. “Then of course I will go. Also, your grandfather still has the hope his granddaughter would get a man like me.”

"Ew. Why would my dear grandfather want me to be with someone who enjoys keeping a frog in his mouth?" You ask, earning yourself an Oscar for best actress with the innocence you exude and the seriousness you manage to put on your face, even when Tom's eyes narrow from the attack you just launched, while, enjoying the show, his friend and his younger brother laughs, shaking heads with a familiar expression on their faces because of the familiar discussion between you and him that happens, every two or three days. "Seriously, Tom, give the poor Henry a break."

"Henry?" Tom asks with real confusion, his accent thick, while the other male voices ask it in a collective whisper too.

"I named your frog Henry, hope it doesn't bother you." And you laugh, victorious to feel how Tom exhales the air through his nose.

“Seriously, (y/n), when will you confess that you are in love with me? You don't have to be so shy, darling.” Tom laughs too, using his finger to tap your nose, because he knows perfectly well that you don't like that, just as you don't like being called darling anymore. “Ray is a wise man, you should listen to your grandfather."

"Yes, if you like skinny ones."

"I'm not skinny. I have the perfect body.” Tom defends himself.

"For now, but in a couple of years you will named your big belly as your dad does after drinking with mine." You laugh like a little girl because you love Dom, because he's warm and funny, because he loves his wife and children, and because of how funny he is when he and your dad have had too much alcohol, like the time they started a cartwheel contest in the middle of the street. "Who's there? It's Dom Junior.”

"Shut up! My dad is still sexy!” A heavy silence falls over the small place as everyone looks at Tom with furrowed brows and true confusion, but that's when he realizes the choice of words he used to refer to his dad. "That's not what I meant!"

You raise your hands in a sign of peace, your gaze avoiding his as you stop yourself from laughing and mocking him.

"That's so wrong, Tom." Harry says, with a certain bittersweet taste on the tip of his tongue. "Now because of you I won't be able to see dad's belly the same way."

Harry and Haz chuckle at Dom's expense.

But when the jet landed smoothly on the headlight-lit runway in the early hours of the morning, the heavy hours from the past months feels now as if they weighed the same as a feather, pain and exhausting sleepless nights disappeared in the blink of an eye, and now, there is no oceans that could make you feel far away, because in the end, you always came back home.

"Besides..." You say to finish that conversation, your backpack on your shoulder before making the victory path towards the stairs to get off the plane. "I would like a boyfriend who can grow a mustache, not like the failed attempt on your face. Thank you very much."

"Hey!" Tom frowns as you pass him by, and his voice rises even higher than it already is. "My doctor says it's just a hormone problem."

"Damn, bro..." Harry laughs as he puts an arm around Tom's shoulder, giving him a brotherly hug before walking out to the car waiting outside. “(Y/n) will be hard to catch, you know? But try it, maybe you will make it in this century."

Harry laughs, and then, walks out of the plane.

"What does that mean?" Tom asks Harrison, who is still waiting by his side.

"I think he meant that you are in love with (y/n), but you haven't noticed it yet."

Harrison chuckles, but after patting Tom on the back, he rushes to place a hand on his best friend's shoulder to stop him.

“Hey, mate… you, uh…” Tom's eyes soften, almost to the point where his brown eyes resembled the gaze of a little 5-year-old boy, sad, and lost. “You haven't told anyone why we came back, right?”

“Of course not.” Harrison says, and his gaze smiles just like his lips. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? We are home, you are home. You can take the time you need to rest.”

Tom nods, unsure, but tries to be strong as they both get off the plane. 

The gray autumn clouds hang with invisible strings in the sky as Tom Holland, actor, handsome, wealthy, and the loneliest person in the world, releases a deep breath that is lost among the sounds of the world, because his world is no longer sparkling or velvety thanks to the cameras or a red carpet, and while his new movie is a box office hit that never in his best dreams he would have imagined, something wasn't right for him.

That’s why he is back home.

The car ride is silent as some sleep, except you and Tom, because your eyes seem to recognize the streets you grew up in, because your hearts recognize your home. But for Tom, he recalls tilting his body to the left and a camera captured his best actor pose a week ago, but since then, his body has felt null, as if floating in the air and no longer responding to his orders. He was crystal clear, but a few people seemed to see clearly through him. Tom tries to convince himself that the tickling in his hands is his body's response to tiredness and not his anxiety, because he suffers it too, but he feels that something is eating his soul.

"Are you okay, Tom?"

Among a sea of ​​people, Tom Holland has always pretended to be an interesting person, but now, he takes a deep breath and looks at you, nervous, lost in the middle of that huge world, but you, looking back at him gives him peace, because he doesn’t feel alone anymore. 

What did you think? That someone is interested in knowing if you are really okay? Of course they care, right?

“Of course, darling.” Tom smiles, as if in a snap of fingers, everything is fine.

But there, he catches a movement of yours.

You tilt your head to the side, like his beloved Tessa when she is curious about something, but he doesn't say it out loud because you would take it the wrong way, but the movement in slow motion worthy of a Hollywood scene and the serenity of your gaze makes Tom hold his breath, that breath that previously didn't fit his chest with so many problems that he carried inside.

But suddenly he can breathe again, finally.

“Okay.”

The minutes pass until the car stops on a street that you two recognize perfectly. When everyone is out, the car leaves, but because your favorite boys are about to leave, too, you hug everyone as the promise to celebrate Harrison's birthday next week hangs in the air. You love them so much, because they are beautiful people who helped you to save yourself from the storms of doubts and fears, each of them in their own charming way, and for that, you were grateful.

"My friend Danielle is coming so I would like you to meet her, Haz." You chuckle adorably before leaving, noting that Harrison's smile is as real as his desire to meet her.

"I'm looking forward to it, darling."

"Wait, why he can call you darling?" Tom says, and for a second, you see a sparkle in the brightness of his eyes, but as the door of his house opens and his beloved Tessa runs to receive him, the confusion disperses like the morning haze.

"There she is the only darling you will ever get, Thomas."

And the moment you turn around, because the door of your house opens too, you lose sight of Tom's honest smile and the question that he hides behind his sweet eyes. Was he in love with you all this time without realizing it? And what if he wanna be your boyfriend? 

Oh, right. The favor that you were going to ask God for? To get you a boyfriend, a cute one, a hot one... maybe like Tom. Weird, isn't it?

Tag list: @galaxies-of-the-heart​

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland spiderman #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

[fatehbaz]

When the G0lden C0rral burned down. (Edit: By the way, I am completely serious about the town’s appreciation for G0lden C0rral, and fighting hard to install a Chil!’s, and being deliriously in love with @pplebee’s to the point of writing letters to the editor about the joy of happy hour deals. And I definitely remember one woman did explicitly mention @pplebee’s in the context of “why we need a Chil!’s.” These events took place in years before the internet eventually targeted those franchises as the punchline of jokes about the dying of quintessential Middle America iconography and “tradition.” So, looking back, it seems like an eerily-appropriate hallucinogenic vision of the decline of Americana, custom-made to service mid-2010s jokes.)

When I was in high school, the staff received news that the town’s local G0lden C0rral buffet was currently on fire and might be destroyed, and this was evidently a big deal because this town was dying, and everyone was painfully aware of the fact. And the town had obsessive, truly obsessive, nostalgia for its heyday in the 1940s, when they had become vain, intoxicated by money from coal, natural gas, the US military, and corporate monoculture growing grains for expanding 1950s cereal brands. But by the time of the fire at the restaurant, all of that was gone, over, done. A sadness hung over the town. The major events reported in the paper in the recent decades were: UFO sightings, businesses closing, more UFO sightings, racist assaults, drunk driving accidents, and gruesome murders. People got off work, drove (speeding through residential roadways) directly home, locked their door, made sure blinds were closed. (To this day, when I meet people also from that area, they will offer unsolicited comments about their relief for having escaped “the black hole.”) And so at various restaurants and business and homes across town, there often hung black-and-white photos of “the Good Days” and the polished cobblestone walkways of the still-living downtown district. (Meanwhile smoke rose from the campfires at the shantytown on the hillside, where “non-desirables” were sentenced to live. One time, at a small art museum, I saw a photo of a wealthy white couple in the 1950s, very well-dressed, taken outside of a fine restaurant, and the columns of smoke. I asked one of the museum curators about it. She said “oh, that’s where the Native people lived” because the city wouldn’t lend or rent to them.) And so the town cherished gaudy mid-20th-century Americana, and they couldn’t bear to lose a G0lden C0rral.

I biked everywhere, all day, though I did have a vehicle. They shouted slurs at me all the time, and I had full beer cans and liquor bottles thrown at me by vehicle drivers multiple times for having the audacity to ride a bike. The year after the fire, when the town was offered “free” financial assistance from the state to install bike lanes, at a public comment session, there was a line so long it extended out the door of the city council office. People had all kinds of antisemitic and strange violent things to say about how “the Californians want us to install bike lanes” and “the New World Order is trying to impose this hippie bullshit” and “it’s a plot against coal and oil and gas to diminish vehicle use.” I’m dead serious, those comments were recorded in the paper. Around that same time, the town was also deciding what to do with a nice empty lot in the only relatively successful commercial center. The options were: (1) Install a complex with a locally-owned taqueria, a bistro using produce only from local farms, and some other quaint business. Or (2) bring in a Chil!’s franchise. People were stoked about the potential for a Chil!’s. It was a Big Deal. Once again, and I am not making this up, the line at the public comment session was so long that it stretched out the door. After many angry comments (again, not making this up), the town chose to install the Chil!’s, with at least one article in the paper quoting someone who advocated for the Chil!’s because the local @pplebee’s had recently ended some deals and began closing earlier.

During the same year period as the fire at the buffet, I had been sitting at a pleasant neighborhood park when multiple cop cars showed up, suddenly. Cops swarmed a pick-up truck, with shotguns aimed directly at the head of a teenager, high school student. More than 10 cops, all guns drawn. I was sitting 3 meters away. I immediately asked one cop if I could leave, and they told me “no,” and so I got to witness the dialogue. The cops had tracked these kids, hunted them down, because they threw a plastic Peps! bottle out of their window earlier that afternoon, but they made the mistake of doing it in the wealthy neighborhood. And so a woman thought the bottle might have been made out of glass, and therefore “threatened the life of her dog” (if the dog ingested glass I guess?). She immediately called the cops, hence the military occupation of this nice little park, and that was the excuse for terrifying these kids with the shotguns. Coincidentally, the G0lden C0rral itself was only a few blocks from where a younger me had watched the draining and destruction of my favorite vernal pool and frog pond. So I had despised development, the destruction of the prairie, and the Hallmark-Card-wannabe posturing of the town for years, always disturbed by the horrible violent past (and present), etc. Had been repeatedly talked to by school district administrators and “concerned parents” of fellow students and “ex-friends” for activism and related “political stunts” from the time I was like 13 onward. And after spending years in this place, watching the town destroy all the native prairie for Chil!’s franchises and watching the townsfolk yell about the Jewish plot to install bike lanes to defeat the Beloved Gas Industry, I was ready to witness what fate had in store for this classic buffet franchise.

So when news came of the fire at G0lden C0rral, I stood up, and straight-up walked out of the room. Skipped class. Got in my vehicle. Drove directly to the burning building.

Firefighters had set up a perimiter, so I parked as close as possible. (About 50 meters or so.) I was sipping loose-leaf tea from an insulated water bottle. And the place did burn down. The firefighters had apparently determined that there was no salvaging the place, and so they let the fire take its course. It took about 30 minutes, but the fire eventually reached gas lines in the kitchen, and there was big explosion, and some glass panels blew out while part of the roof erupted into smoldering wooden shards.

It was a sunny day. Immediately afterwards, I went home and took a nap. I slept well. Moved away from that place within a year.

[idga-buck]

use somebody || six

pairing: harry x plus-size!reader

word count: 2,700

warnings: mentions of sex, douchebaggery, and shitty attitudes toward women

summary: this thing with harry is about to take a turn as long as his friends don’t get into his head

challenge: @baezen​‘s the Other Guys Writing Challenge

gif: @sebastiansource​ (I know it’s TJ, okay? There is 9 minutes worth of Harry in Spread and not a lot of gifs to back it up, so suspend your disbelief)

Back in the Present

“Marissa’s pissed at me, so-“

“Maritza,” Harry corrected mindlessly and Nikki waved him off.

“Whatever… I’ll be over,” he looked around the open aired dance floor for a few seconds before selecting a hiding space, giant smirk on his face. “there.” Harry didn’t bother looking. “Don’t let them get too close.”

“Sure, man, just-“ Harry didn’t have to finish his sarcastic drone before the last of his friends had disappeared between writhing bodies. He was avoiding a woman he exploited and Harry had no moral obligations to help Nikki stay invisible so he could keep playing his dangerous game. Finding wealthy women and using them for sex and a comfortable place to stay as long as the sex was still good. It wasn’t the most honorable living, but the guy hadn’t fallen into the six figure modeling contract he expected when he stepped off the bus from Kansas. “Sorry, Dorothy,” Harry scoffed.

“Dorothy…” your voice had Harry scrambling to find you behind him, relieved to see your face and to see you in a good mood. “How many girls you got on the hook, Harry?” You were teasing him and he would welcome that on any holy or unholy day.

“Just enough,” he responded, taking hold of your arm and shuffling himself closer to you rather than pulling you towards him.

“I’ll bet,” you laughed and he felt the overwhelming urge to kiss you right then. He probably would have too, if Marcus with his beautiful dark skin and his velvety voice hadn’t slid in just to disrupt him. He started to introduce himself, but Harry jumped in, speaking over his friend and reclaiming the power position as he made short and meaningless introductions for you. You smiled, but took a step toward Harry and it didn’t go unnoticed by either man. Harry tossed his arm around your shoulders proudly, more than pleased with the impressed smirk on Marcus’ perfect face.

Another voice jumped into the fray, pulling your attention, as your friend Maritza came barreling through the crowd, visibly upset. She’d just seen Nikki’s ass hanging out over his jeans while pinning someone new to the side of a jacuzzi tub and was making no efforts to hide his sluttiness from the strangers around her. You shrugged and let her pull you away from the men, sympathizing as best you could, but Harry could tell you were as annoyed by the situation as he was. Like middle school, but worse. Horny Patron soaked middle schoolers.

“So,” Marcus crossed arms and nodded to where you’d disappeared, knowing smile on his face. You don’t know anything. 

“Shut up,” Harry grumbled without letting his friend speak and turned away to find the bar, unfortunately finding Nikki in the process.

“Hey, have you seen-“

“Yeah,” Marcus laughed. “And she’s pissed.”

“She’s always pissed at stupid shit,” Nikki insisted while stripping off his sweater in the middle of the party to flip it right side out again. In true Nikki fashion, he took his time doing so, pausing to wink at a couple girls caught ogling him. Classy. 

“Because that’s what you do,” Harry pointed out. “Stupid shit. I mean, this is a new record. Kicked out in a week?”

“Three,” Nikki corrected, making Marcus laugh and clap him on the back of the head.

“So who’s next, Don Juan, got yourself another pretty woman in need of her own Julia Roberts?” Marcus probed, wiggling his eyebrows while he surveyed the party scene as if looking for clues.

“I thought Julia Roberts was Pretty Woman,” Nikki tried to defend himself.

“Yeah,” Harry piped up, “but you’re the whore.” Nikki’s very fake laugh was aggressive, but not as loud as Marcus’ real one. Soon their attention was turned to Harry, whose sudden silence was easily noted.

You’d emerged from whatever corner Maritza had you in and without your friend in distress, Harry was ready to get back to you.

“Harry’s the one with a mark,” Nikki teased, clicking his tongue against the inside of his teeth and Harry wanted to punch him for it. “Hear she’s got expensive taste though.”

“It’s not like that,” Harry insisted.

“It should be,” Nikki’s hand on his shoulder, stopping him as he tried to leave. “I wouldn’t roll around with all that, but-“

“Hey, now!” Marcus was quick to smack Nikki at the base of his skull.

“Shut up,” Harry snapped, but even Marcus came to your defense and he was pleased. Not all the guys he hung out with were terrible. It made him feel less terrible too.

“I’m serious man,” Nikki urged again, rubbing the back of his head and ignoring everything else. “She could buy out Marissa-“ there was no point in correcting him again. “Like that,” Nikki snapped his fingers and laid his hand on Harry’s chest, like they were having a heart to heart. “Play your cards right,” Harry shook his head no. “Think about it. Quit the job you hate, get a nicer place, import another Bolivian tree frog or whatever you’re into-” What an ass. Harry threw his arms up to shove Nikki away, but the wannabe model persisted. “Seal the deal, man, girls like that…” he shook his head and Harry frowned at it. “She’d be lucky to have a face like this wanting her,” Harry pulled away but Nikki was quicker, shooting up a hand to cup his jaw and squeeze his cheeks.

“I’m out of here.” He pushed past his friends, ignoring the continued encouragement and annoying conversation as he slipped through the crowd. He knew where to find something better. And a much better ending to his night if everything went well. He wanted to talk to you again, hang out again. He definitely wanted to kiss you again. More if you’d allow it.

You looked happy to see him and after three random encounters that always left his chest feeling heavy and his pants feeling betrayed, it was really all he could ask for. After informing him that his friend was a tool, to which Harry emphatically agreed, you two lingered on the topic of their short lived relationship. He’d seen you at her place a couple times over the course of Nikki’s scam and despite the messy ending, he was thankful to have had those chances to get even closer to you.

Once you were stretched out on the couch, making yourself at home, when the couple in question got into a fight that led them into another room for some screaming followed by loud make up sex. Harry stumbled upon the scene accidentally, but was driven directly into your side without hesitating. You laid next to each other on the ridiculously deep modular sectional, heads meeting in the corner of the L shape with your legs tossed out perpendicular to each other. He mimicked an awkward grunting noise that made you laugh and you responded with an exaggerated sigh that was pornographic on all counts, he had the semi to prove it. Not wanting to act on it in the middle of a stranger’s giant sunken living room, Harry laughed it off. Soon both of you were moaning loudly and obnoxiously in the hopes of embarrassing your friends into finishing quickly, but it didn’t work. Your stomachs ached, full with laughter, and soon enough, you -inspired by elation and the gentle warmth of amusement- had rolled over to kiss Harry right there. Without pausing to question the gift, he grabbed at the back of your neck and tried to maneuver his body under yours, but slid off the sofa as a result of his wiggling. You giggled at him and stayed on the cushions above him, while he stayed seated on the floor, leaning back into the corner of the sectional to kiss you again. It was slower and more focused than before and soon both of you were lost in it. By the time Nikki and Maritza emerged from whatever sex closet they’d just destroyed, your hand was under his zipper, rubbing him gently over his boxers. Harry had murder in his eyes when you jumped back, pulling away your wet lips and soft hand at the sound of their vengeful moaning- returning the favor for their friends at the worst possible moment.

The next was a dinner, small and remarkably classy for a shit like Nikki to pull off. Over cheese plates and fruit bowls and wine he’d probably never get again, Harry got to know the people in your circle better. They all smelled like money and he smelled like the CK One his grandmother sent him two Christmases ago. It was cheap next to them, but again your presence pulled him out of the sense that he didn’t belong. Your dry humor and willingness to call someone out for being ridiculous was the best part of the night. At least until he found you just outside the bathroom and pushed you back in for a moment alone. He kissed you hard and eager and your fingers curled around the embroidery on the front of his best shirt. You stayed like that, hushing each other as he pushed your dress up over your thick thighs until someone knocked and Harry’s fingers froze between your legs. In a moment of teasing bravery, he pushed hard against you, hoping his fingers would land in the vicinity of something good. Mid sentence, asking whoever it was for a few more minutes, you gasped and dug your nails into the back of his neck. Found it. The interruption left, but the moment was quickly closing in around him. Are we doing this? He’d asked hopefully. Not here. You were pulled out of dinner early by a phone call and Harry kicked his tires when he finally left, the night taking a swift nosedive after you were gone.

Harry would have liked to revisit that moment or any of the ones before it. Talk about going somewhere private so as not to be interrupted like usual. But you were too annoyed at your friends’ naivety and he let you vent. It sounded like you’d seen it happen to more than one of your friends and he was just thankful they weren’t all with Nikki. He was sure it would kill his chances, just by association. A cute guy with nothing, but his smile, charms his way into a big open floor plan and a cozy bed. After a couple months of endless sex and pricey accommodations, feeling like the real California king and not having to worry for anything, he’d find some extracurricular activities and engage until he was caught. Your friends were the ones left to foot the bill, emotionally and physically. You calmed yourself down quickly and apologized for shitting on his friend. Harry said it was fine and he meant it. 

He liked you. It was simple enough. He liked talking to you, liked imagining what it would be like to get you naked again. You made him laugh and made him nervous in ways he didn’t expect. He’d really liked kissing you and while admittedly not great at reading women, he’d bet you liked kissing him too. It was sort of a risky move, but he didn’t have any others so when you didn’t turn down the friendly hug he went in for, he swallowed the minuscule amount of pride he had left. Go for broke.

“Is your house ready?”

“Ready for what?” You laughed, pulling out of the hug, but keeping on hand on his ribs. If it was an attempt to keep him at arm's length, it backfired. He loved the feeling of you touching him so freely. You looked surprised that he recalling all the work being done and he hoped it sounded sincere, not creepy.

Harry recited what he remembered. Taking you back to a hotel, not your house. Then later, the first time you reconnected post awkward morning jilting, Harry had taken you back to a friend’s place. He also learned it was because a pipe burst in your master bathroom. After fighting and winning a drawn out claim with your insurance company, you’d been staying with Sherrie while you waited for fresh plumbing and new hardwood floors. When the damage had professionals tearing into your walls anyways, you jumped at the opportunity for a fresh layout and knocked down the wall between your kitchen and the rest of the house. That old college friend, Darius, offered up his kitchen as inspiration for the redesign and that was how Harry found you again. Over an expensive meal, he realized exactly how picky you were when it came to kitchens and he listened intently to everything wrong with your friend’s. Too commercial. Too impersonal. The soul of the home shouldn’t look like that. Harry offered the only plausible conclusion. Your friend Darius was a vampire, soulless and in need of many easy to clean surfaces. For the blood, of course. You’d been frozen in the warm candlelight and the seconds you took to process his joke felt like hours, but when you finally broke out into a laugh, a big one, Harry felt like he’d won a gold medal.

You were still listening to him go on with details from your own life, but he was running out. At least you weren’t running away.

“You remember all that?” You asked and Harry nodded, more than a little proud of himself.

“I listen,” he shrugged like it was nothing, but it wasn’t nothing. He had selective hearing, especially when it came to women. A habit he’d resigned himself to never breaking and always having to play catch up in a conversation. That’s how they ended up in arguments and how he was left looking dumb, nothing to say to someone who -to his knowledge- hadn’t said anything that required memorization. But he was really trying with you. Maybe the sting of a recent break up and her cruel words about his cavalier attitude had spurred him on. Being compared to his buddy, Nikki, was the nail in the coffin. He was trying to do better, be better. You were the first person to test his new efforts on and as he shamelessly glanced down to your chest, he didn’t mind the position he was in. “You’re easy to listen to,” he added and it felt more like the truth. You had a natural way about you and it made him feel like you were close friends after only just meeting. He felt it at Taix too, where it should have been awkward and stilted platitudes, stale get to know you questions. It wasn’t like that. He didn’t even know what you did for work, but he knew it had to be good money and that he’d call you if he ever got into a fight with his landlord. You seemed able to pull the best out of people without backing down or letting them walk all over you. It was hot. And sweet. Just like you.

The party was still ongoing and somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry registered that Garrett’s accent had slipped from some heavy northern english brogue into something offensively resembling Jamaican. He wasn’t bothered at his friend’s proximity and had no desire to look for them. Not when your hand was still on his ribs, absentmindedly thumbing the space just below his nipple. Your touch was both grounding and incredibly distracting. It took a lot of effort not to sound too eager when he asked to see the changes in your home. He had no idea what it looked like before, but he was very invested in this renovation project and was dying to see the results. He’d even ask for a tour of the whole place… stay too late, maybe pour a drink like he’d been there a hundred times just to make you laugh at him again. You were visibly thinking, milling the idea around while his hands slipped to your shoulders, thumbs resting against your collarbone.

He took his time leaning in, but when your fingers dipped under the waist of his jeans to pull him in closer he lost all restraint. Kissing you was way too good and if you said no now, Harry thought he might die. It’d been years since a girls lips got to him like this. The first wasn’t enough. Not he was being driven mad by all the build up, the accidental run ins, the inside jokes. He felt like a teenager again content to make out until his lips turned blue, terrified of what came next and whether or not he would be any good at it. You’d pulled away again and looked up with him, some unreadable glance that had him on pins and needles awaiting the final blow.

“Wanna get out of here?” you smiled suggestively.

And that gold medal feeling was back.

#use somebody #harry x reader #plus size!reader #sorry to all the hp blogs that get diverted to this shit show #sebastian stan character fic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfiction #nerdy frog dad #you are a sensitive guy #togwc #the other guys writing challenge #baezen

[dwestfieldblog]

DOOMSCROLLING

Rocking and doomscrolling in an Eigenstate, the English Variant is here...All virtue signalling wannabe edgelords,  sleepwalking ’woke’ automatons, fake Christians, Faustian Republicans, corrupt Conservatives and retarding neophobes look away now. Little more than domesticated primates, a majority of larval humanity continues to ignore its astral biology...yes really. ‘Those who control symbols control us’.  And Pavlov dogs do love flags eh? Here is a balanced, mostly unpretentious finite rant for breakfast where the opinion arises from triple checked facts rather than mere emotion.  In God we rust.

Straight off...Disgusted to rage by the English government’s March budget which gives  nurses a ‘pay rise’ equivalent to three pounds fifty pence a week, (which doesn’t even begin to cover the cost of their parking at hospitals) the disdain these arrogant swine feel for truly essential workers is revealed in full. The ‘Heath’ minister explained that times were tight due to Covid...yes Matt, fairly sure the nurses working 18 hours a day had already noticed this in their desperately overworked, overcrowded hospitals. Deeply in debt, Britain plans to borrow 355 billion pounds this year, the highest amount in her history. Corporation tax will possibly increase in 2023, a little late to balance wages elsewhere for nurses etc...And given the previous ten years, highly unlikely it would even be used for such. But it might look good to those brainwashed gimps that STILL plan to vote for this bastardly corrupt party in 2024.

A clip taken in March of an exceptionally long queue for a food bank in London brings it all into sharper focus. The 6th richest economy in the world has the most food banks of any democratic country. Over 2000 in the UK. (Over 900 in Germany.) Hate to come across as a Socialist but The Tories have been in power for ten long years, historically destroying the NHS a bit more each time they hold power. Endlessly subcontracting, pouring money into new unneeded tiers of management, slowing operations down with extra paperwork, voting down pay rises, thus expediting a brain drain of doctors, nurses and surgeons to other countries and private practices...and over the last thirteen months, supplying those who stayed, with mountains of  PPE equipment not fit for purpose. A ‘jolly good show’ handclap every evening on doorsteps doesn’t fecking cut it. Neither do all the rainbows drawn by children put into windows. In fact, Boris, it looks like outright damn cynicism. All the more since your dose of the virus (‘I visited the Covid ward and shook hands with everyone’) was healed by excellent work by the NHS. Mr. Boris ‘No government could have done more’. Johnson...a lot of us are keeping score.

Lord Bethell, (‘Parliamentary under secretary of State for Innovation at the Department of Health and Social Care’) said that nurses are ‘well paid’ for the job they do, reiterating that times are hard; ‘There are millions of people out of work on the back of this epidemic’. Well yes there are. And why? A government which dragged its heels many times after salient scientific advice, prognoses/ projections were given, and allowed three massive social gatherings (384,000 people) to take place for superspreading, as well as conflicting advice about masks, herd immunity and confusion over open borders, schools to return for one day, etc...All of which led to the dire need for total lockdowns and the impossibility to sell or go to work (unless working from home) leading in turn to unpaid rent/bills, evictions, bosses laying off those they cannot afford to pay. And to mention again, the Tories have been the ones in power for ten years...with banking scandals (where chiefs were not punished but the public were twice, once by collapses and once for raised taxes to prop up the greed). The expenses scandal of politicians, massive public service cutbacks, corruption, the smug George Osbourne guiding Britain disgracefully to poverty via austerity, a National Health service being encouraged to disintegrate and’ an oven ready’/tramps breakfast scraps Brexit...and LO!... the coffers are indeed a little empty thanks to all the contracts tossed without oversight to the governments mates without due process, including 37 billion pounds spent on a Test and Trace programme which did not function, 252 million AND 6000 pounds a DAY to ‘consultants (for the essential chimera of PR etc).Chumocracy at highly profitable work.

Over to you Boris, ‘...it is thanks to PRUDENT FISCAL MANGEMENT that we have been able to fight this pandemic in the way that we have.’

Well exactly.

A dishevelled adult leader of a country who cannot even brush his hair or dress himself, a ‘leader’ who missed five vital COBRA meetings about the pandemic, never took in the notes from scientists of advance warnings and blustered his pompous comedy horseshite rather than leading from the front. Father of six or perhaps 7 illegitimate children (does he pay child support? No records). But never mind eh, he is a rum sort of cove. No. Churchill would have him horsewhipped naked and tarred and feathered in Trafalgar Square. But still! When questioned on whether there would be an inquiry into the colossal waste without recompense or standard clauses in contracts of taxpayers’ money raped from the Treasury, Mr Johnson replied that it was ‘NOT IN THE PUBLIC INTEREST’. Really. REALLY? Boris, if you were a catheter, you could not extract more urine than you already do. The clown father of the motherland. BJ said he took ‘full responsibility’ for the massive number of fatalities. But hasn’t resigned.127 thousand covid deaths in UK, leading Europe by 33 thousand.  Well played chaps. 545 thousand USA. China 4636. Yeah RIGHT. Sure.

Once knew a guy who, if you told him something factual, most often replied with ‘Well, it’s the first I’ve heard of it’...meaning anything he had not already been told was automatically false. How did he ever learn new information? Neophobes, their insecurities heavy chains to evolving, seem to rule the world; Good news is they don’t. Bad news is, they know it and are getting ever more desperate the rest of us go down with them in righteous conservatism and counter evolution. ‘Perception does not consist of passive reception of signals but of an active interpretation of signals...active, creative trans-actions’...‘The easier you can predict a message, the less information the message contains’. If a media source etc attempt to relay actual news and it does not fit what is already believed, it is disregarded or worse...GIGO...Garbage In=Garbage Out.

The pandemic is doing great things for the further global rise of populist swine...When the mass public mind is aflame with anger and fear, new bastards step up and old governments impose harder laws. Hungary loses her last independent radio station and Orban rejoices. Brazilian bastid Bolsanaro continues to see his people as expendable inhuman statistics. By their hatred he will burn. 301 thousand dead. Totalitarianism creeps apace via populist chancers, Stalinist fascists, nationalist bullshitters who care far more about their ego than their country. (Hello frog eyed Nigel Farage aka Lord Haw Haw the 2nd.) Speaking of which...Lord Mayor of London wannabe Laurence Fox bought a mask exemption badge online because he didn’t want his pretty face to be unrecognised. Narcissist, who as leader of a new party Reclaim, wants to ‘take back’ Britain from the Woke snowflakes (even while speaking like a laidback Establishment version of them) and end up in Parliament. Good for you luvvie. But now with acting career ended and music career failed, he does look a lot like a pretty poster boy who needs to stay adored and recognises (along with his string pulling financial backers) there is a bandwagon to be jumped on. In 8 years time he (or someone similar in insecure need for others approval to give vent to their sadistic impulses) could be a new type of prime minister and the V for Vendetta pre-scenario will be in full swing. ‘Politicians should wear sponsor jackets like Nascar drivers, then we know who owns them’ Robin Williams via Jonathan Pie. No one from Texas should be allowed to be president...and no one from Eton (or Harrow) should ever be allowed to be Prime Minister. Apart from Churchill.

Sometimes it takes a nightmare to wake one up...an authoritarian dystopia coming soon to a land mass near you...a failed state and a divided kingdom of Mediocre Britain with bad laws for her citizens but great if you are a ‘public servant’ or a friend of those that are. Probably a good thing for Euope that we are an island eh? We turned our back on them and they can cast us adrift like an oil tanker filled with toxic waste. Sunak or Patel next? Will the ‘Elite’ (Ha) allow a person of colour to rise to the depths of Prime Minister? The entire cabinet should be sent to a Chinese prison. Avaricious liars. If you don’t stir the cream it turns into scum.

And speaking of destroying your country from inside....

Oh America... just watched the Idaho mask burning clip in Boise, adults encouraging children to pick up discarded masks, pathogens, all with bare hands and drop into the garbage bin flames...inhaling the formaldehyde smoke... Freedom! End lockdown now! Breathe deeply rednecks. So looking forward to having a black woman president over there. Please be better than all these useless white trash MORONS...Q Onan, the ‘storm’ (in a beer can), the ‘plan’, ‘where we go one, we go all’...right down the toilet of history into the sewers of oblivion. Good riddance to foul rubbish, Believers anxious for orders from ‘Christians’ who are actually serving what they would call ‘Satan’. Ironic on the darkest level, no? LOOK at their faces, into their eyes, naught but greed for power. Two thousand years of inverted truths. ‘Religion’ became consumed by ‘the Devil’. Discuss with yourself after watching the majority of preachers.

The Trumps, Hawley, Cruz, Lindsey Graham, Bannon, the Mercers, Paula White, Stella Immanuel and the Gawd awful Marjorie Taylor Greene should be sent alone, foodless to a small island surrounded by sharks. And filmed for our entertainment. And oh...that dumbass disgusting false idol kitsch gold statue (to celebrate his love of golden rain) of Donald, created via Mexico and China in artistic irony. And, and AND the Republican senators against any background checks for those who want to own guns. (Seven mass killings this year already by armed wankers.) Britain, Europe and America, unions encouraged, persuaded to break apart into hexagram 23 while China and Russia grin. Q seems like a new form of right wing bullshite to rally the dumb against what they perceive to be the ‘left wing’ rebellion of Anonymous. I think Q originated in the Kremlin myself. An electronic baobab seed...

Back to my birthland...New powers of arrest looming for ‘Non Crime Hate Incidents’, and a new police bill of up to ten years prison for silent protest. One almost expects this in (arf) lesser countries with pantomime dictators, but on the septic, excuse me, sceptre’d isle of Britain? An obvious Government first shot reaction against what they know might be coming for their dire mishandling of the pandemic, loss of jobs and no real support for the underlings...Governments ARE afraid of their people, that’s why enough laws are passed (with minimum debate or under cover of smokescreen news events) to ensure all those not wealthy and well connected are in daily risk of being arrested for ‘criminality’. So be sure to be obedient to your ‘public servants’.

Ahh.. enough eh? Apolitically incorrect, radical liberal, fundamentalist atheist, remember the Tar Baby idea Dave, the more you attack something, the more you are attached to it. Let it go brother. The difference between being frozen in stasis and empty with Zen calm. But to paraphrase Robert Anton Wilson, (as I am so often wont to do) thanks to our own programming, when we do not frequently examine and cross check our input we become full of Self Hypnotic Ideational Trance. Dogmas must be only transitory, flow river, flow...

Bells Theorem? Pretty good but this is mostly Jameson’s (with Czech spring water) theorem. In confession, I crave your indulgence, Invoke Often, Repeat repeat repeat, ‘How far is it, if you can think of it?’ Transduction of thoughts into chemicals...surfing the neuropeptides and there you stood on the edge of your feather expecting to die, A skeleton breastfeeding a priest, and if that mocking bird don’t sing, daddy’s gonna break off both its wings. Whoops. The optical illusion of a rainbow halo as beautiful as ‘God on drugs’.  Melancholy melophile, melomaniac and melomaniacal, I am an Audiophile in the paralysis of rapture...Ahh...and now I have obtained an elegant sufficiency, multitasking in five time zones. Left frontal lobe digital (manual) moving to Right frontal lobe analogue non Aristotelian (self controlled). Get it? DNA appears to be a cybernetics information/programming system...but anyway...

Bet there will be a massive increase in the birth rate nine months after most of the world is vaccinated, a surge of relieved masses celebrating in the old fashioned way. All those who died will be ‘replaced’ at double pumping speed. The idea that the vaccine contains the ‘Establishment’s’ nanobots seems unlikely...how on Earth would at least ONE person in the know, not spill the (genetically modified) beans? And those wondrous illogical conspiracy theories that Covid was triggered deliberately via 5G mast networks by a satanic paedophile elite will fade for a while. Until the ‘Christian’evangelical (evil angels) right wing restart their crazed rambling about the Illuminati/Freemasons again. For the record, my own feeling is that any group which had Leonardo da Vinci, Goethe, Beethoven, Sir Issac Newton, Washington, Mark Twain, Churchill, Oscar Wilde, Jefferson etc as members, seems like a fairly cool and worthwhile group for humanity to learn from. Is it because Lucifer was the Light Bringer that they conflate illumination with evil? How very aware of them. Arf. Paranoid magicians live longer. Speaking of witch...’Nothing is, nothing becomes, nothing is not’. A.C. The Book of Lies. Be aware, not woke. Look for the hunchback (?) behind the soldier (!)...‘You can empty infinity from it and infinity still remains’.

‘The data may not contain the answer. The combination of some data and an aching desire for an answer does not ensure that a reasonable answer can be extracted from a given body of data.’

Ever see Interstellar? Love that film. Elon Musk should just select 100 people, blast off and leave the rest of us to burn. As psychologists would call it, most of humanity is indeed still at the larval stage. Most of us stay on ‘the fourth circuit’ all life and rip at anyone who goes beyond or tries to. Christ would be murdered again, that’s why Buddha avoided crowds. Release and receive...channel.

‘Truth, truth, truth! crieth the Lord of the Abyss of Hallucinations...’

Paradise in a scientific quantum possibility...A dimension where the ‘soul’/ recorded/imprinted memory continues in  ‘A quite specific electromagnetic-gravitational field in which mind can manifest without organic bodies’. As all ‘reality’ is subjective, and an individual life most likely takes up a mere byte in a terabyte (trillion bytes). Personal Heavens, the way YOU design and chose. Dream and imagine possibilities now...much Love forever from Anon of Ibid

[lasvegas0]

‘American Idol’ Recap: It’s All About Personality as the Auditions Come to an End

American Idol has only been back for two and a half weeks, but we’re already about to enter the next phase of the reboot with new judges Lionel Richie, Katy Perry and Luke Bryan.

I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be season 16 or season 1, but what I do know is that while the auditions are fun — both the good and the bad — Hollywood Week is when it really begins.

The big stage, the pressure, the judgments, the horrors of the group round … this is where the studs are separated from the duds, and stars begin their journey. And it’s right around the corner.

But first, we have to get through these last two hours of golden ticket giveaways. And so back to Los Angeles, Nashville, New Orleans, New York City and Savannah we go.

Seventeen-year-old Gabby Barrett and her family drove to Tennessee all the way from Pittsburgh, and she’s a daddy’s girl. He is a maintenance man for Goodwill, and he spends his nights cleaning apartments to provide the best life possible for his family. She’s cute and bubbly but also grounded, and Carrie Underwood is her idol.

The judges find her rendition of Carrie’s "Good Girl" too gimmicky because when you try to sound country, you don’t sound country. They also reject her back-up songs — Carrie Underwood’s "Church Bells" and Gretchen Wilson’s "Redneck Woman." But her personality finally comes through on an actual church song — about Jesus.

Caitlin Lucia is 22 and gigs at the same place Katy did as a teenager, and she’s rocking a tight yellow onesie while singing her hero’s song in front of her hero. It’s a folksy version of "I Kissed a Girl," and the judges like it. They also believe that it merely scratches the surface of what Caitlin can do.

Amelia Presley is The King’s sixth cousin once removed, and her "Heartbreak Hotel" kicks off a mediocre Elvis montage that includes frog-throated Billy Crunk and wannabe impersonator Bailey Eubanks. It ends with country boy heartthrob Drake Milligan, who sounds like Elvis but impresses the judges because they think he doesn’t. Luke calls him "cowboy cool," and then it’s a mash-up of Katy’s non-stop set snacking and bunched-up Spanx.

Katy doesn’t think "Stand By Me" is a proper choice to show off the voice of 24-year-old Mylon Shamble, until Mylon sings it. Then Katy calls it the best "Stand By Me" she’s ever heard.

Lee Vasi looks like Alicia Keys, and she duets on her all-time favorite song — The Commodores’ "Zoom" — with Lionel before launching into Toni Braxton’s "Love Shoulda Brought You Home." She’s got the pipes, but the song goes horribly awry amid a slew of pitchless screeching. Still, the judges see potential in her and send her to Hollywood. Luke predicts that she’ll be in the Top 10 if she listens and stays in her wheelhouse.

Philly boy Michael J. Woodard fights his nerves and is all over the place with an over-run version of Ed Sheeran’s "Make It Rain," but the judges love his infectious personality and what they see as raw potential. It probably should’ve been a no based on the lack of control, but I’ll admit he’s likable.

A montage of fashion, hair, tats and related flair ends with 18-year-old dance choreographer Brielle Rathbun, who has fully braided hair and adopted siblings from other countries. Her mom ditched the family a few years ago, and now Dad is the champion. She raspily sings Sara Bareilles’ "Gravity" out of the side of her mouth. And while I don’t love it, her unique personality and spunk mean she’s through.

Carly Moffa describes herself as "a mess," and she’s always been a little different with a penchant for showmanship. Showwomanship? Her mother — who was diagnosed with progressive MS and had five surgeries in the last year alone — is her best friend, and she wrote her original song about "letting the lion out" to cheer Mom up when she was having a rough night. She’s got a bit of Florence Welch in her, which I swear I wrote before Katy says it, and her unique sound makes her one to watch.

Samuel (pronounced Sam-well?) Swanson is a 28-year-old Alabama farm boy who longed to see more than trees and cows, so he picked up and moved to Harlem with $60 to his name. He does a sweet and soulful take on Al Green’s "Let’s Stay Together," and Lionel compares him to Luther Vandross. It’s clear that the theme of the show is unique and endearing personalities.

Eighteen-year-old Jurnee was a recluse until she realized her truth and came out, and she has since met her soulmate and got married. It’s been rainbows — pun intended (her words) — ever since, and she tackles Andra Day’s "Rise Up." There’s no emotional connection until the chorus and way too many extreme runs crammed into a song that doesn’t need it, but the judges appreciate Jurnee’s journey and keep it going to Hollywood.

That’s Adam Sanders, who made the Top 50 when he was 19 five years ago. Rejection was difficult to deal with, but he admits he wasn’t ready back then. But the aftermath was much worse, and the social media trolls targeted his weight, told him he was terrible and advised him to end his life.

He went to a dark place and contemplated suicide, believing he might not be worth fixing. But from that, he rebuilt himself and rose from the ashes a new person confident in his identity. And so the final featured audition of season 16 comes courtesy of Ada Vox, who is a seafood waiter by day and a "part-time woman" by night.

He belts out "House of the Rising Sun" in full drag, showing off a gigantic range backed by pure power pipes. Despite the persona, he assures the judges that he’s in it to win it, and he’s awarded the final golden ticket.

Now, look, I’m not dissing the talent. But truth be told, I was actually at a drag show last night (my wife and I have many theatre friends), and Ada Vox is pretty standard for the New York scene. The vocal prowess can’t be denied, but he’s going to have a difficult time separating himself from the persona to be taken seriously. Ms. Vox will definitely have a loyal following, but it will be interesting to see how it plays out from a recording artist perspective.

Being homeless isn’t enough to deter Ayana Lawson, who goes by Rose because her first name means "lovely flower" in Ethiopian. She used to play basketball but couldn’t afford new sneakers, and now music is her life, her passion, her joy.

Her guitar playing is on point during a toned-down, no-frills version of Bonnie Raitt’s "I Can’t Make You Love Me." She doesn’t have the strongest voice in the world, but the emotional connection is raw and real. You can feel the Tracy Chapman "Fast Car"-like desperation.

The judges want to see her come back because she’s not ready yet, so it’s three nos. But, c’mon, they’ve put through far worse people. And with her backstory, she may simply need an opportunity to build the confidence and swagger they want to see now.

(ABC didn’t post a video of Ayana on the American Idol YouTube page, so I’m embedding it from another source.)

Tory N. Teasley — or TNT for short (that’s gotta be his drag queen alias) — delivers a spicy rendition of Cee Lo Green’s "F*** You" that makes Luke fall out of his chair laughing while Lionel grimaces at the coarse language.

Lucy Clearwater dedicates her folksy take on Sir Mix A Lot’s "Baby Got Back" to Luke’s backside.

Jarom Banks, sometimes known as JoJo Jerom, wears pajamas and butchers REM’s "Losing My Religion" on the piano. It’s a yes from Katy but only because he’s so weird.

Another montage of rejection ends with a guy in a red jacket dancing like Michael Jackson (pictured at the top of the recap) who sings Wham! And as Deadpool pointed out, there’s an exclamation point. So it’s not Wham. It’s Wham! Then heavy metal junkie Damiano Scarfi butchers Boston’s "More Than a Feeling," and here he goes again on his own, going down the only road he’s ever known: rejection.

And just like that, Hollywood here we come. No one emerged as a real contender from this episode, but I’m most interested to see what Carly Moffa can do to harness that Florence and the Machine vibe.

The hell that is Hollywood Week kicks off in the next episode. It’s time to put up or shut up. Literally.

Who were your favorites and who do you think has the most potential? Is there a superstar in this mix? What are your thoughts on Adam Sanders’ transformation, and can Ada Vox be taken seriously in a competition like American Idol? Should the judges have put through Michael J. Woodard and Lee Vasi, or do they need more seasoning? And should poor homeless Ayana Lawson be heading west or did the judges make the right call? Let us know your thoughts in the comments section below.

(Images and videos courtesy of ABC)

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[katieconway-flood-blog]

Opinion: Cashing in For Christmas Or Genuinely Passionate About Music? The Rise of TV Personalities Tapping into The Music Industry Is Painfully Overwhelming

Nick Knowles, Anton Du Beke and Alexander Armstrong are among the latest screen figures to wistfully follow in the footsteps of Bradley Walsh’s number one album triumph. 

By Katie Conway-Flood

Daily Express

16:12, Tue, Nov 29, 2017 (UPDATED: 16:56 Fri, Dec 8, 2017)

Rhumba to recording artist. Anton Du Beke is seeking to beat the likes of X Factor export Matt Terry for the Christmas number 1 with his soulful swing November debut. (Source: @TheAntonDuBeke)

Handyman turned singer, pointless presented turned singer, actress turned singer and even Strictly star turned singer. The crossing of paths between the television and music industry is becoming evermore agonisingly apparent. 

As the festive season rolls around once more with the commencement of quarter four beginning, the distributing of more frequent singles, EP’s and albums will become apparent, a marketing ploy as the perfect gift for Christmas. Although 55 year old DIY SOS bob the builder wannabe and plant based cookbook creator Nick Knowles’ gravel like Country tinged album Every Kind Of People in a stocking doesn’t appeal as a treat from Santa Clause, but more like a trick from Scrooge. Despite the record being released through the renowned Universal label with A-listers Taylor Swift, Robbie Williams and even the Crazy Frog. Even the frog is a significant step up from new signee Knowles. 

Source:  Music Week

A strategy of greed and tarnishing what real artistry is. With a staggering 70% of unsigned artists seeking out a record deal their luck has run out drastically. With all these TV turncoats successfully securing recording contracts with major labels, the chance for genuine artists aiming to pursue a career in music is quickly diminishing. Thanks to the likes of Alexander Armstrong’s dreadful In A Winters Light and Shane Richie’s excruciating A Country Soul, it appears the retail heavyweights even agree that this awful abundance of utter ear garbage. Manager of entertainment chain HMV’s John Hirst stated his opinion on this epidemic “I’m not entirely convinced anyone really listens to these albums” a pristine example being Bradley Walsh’s venture only gaining 4,000 streams  despite it overtaking Zayn Malik’s Mind Of Mine in the sales last year. 

A pointless appearance? Alexander Armstrong is one of the guests on the bill for daytime weekend show Sunday Brunch in order to promote his new album. (Source: Channel 4)

As far as demographics go apparently there is a mass market for this fusion of industries. Although a vision of young millennials rushing out to their nearest record store to throw money at Sheridan Smith: The Album is hardly a feasible vision, the senior generation the people who reside in front of their TV screens to watch ITV daytime shows are the target market big cheeses at labels can’t get enough of. These personas have built up such dedicated viewers over their mannerisms and personalities on the screen, that it’s more about them being on the cover of an album than the actual product itself. With Walsh himself declaring “There’s still a certain amount of people in the UK of a certain age and demographic that can’t or don’t want to order online. They want something tangible, they see it and they buy it, they still shop” proving that these cleverly manufactured television singers are the curators of a new wave of innovation. 

Ultimately this is just another 2017 fad that will become nonexistent by the time new year’s Eve approaches. Music enthusiasts will be eternally grateful for the death of the TV record trend and shall dance on its grave merrily. 

#nick knowles #bradleywalsh #alexander armstrong #anton du beke #opinion #tv #Sheridan #shane richie

[droneracingleague-blog]

Ambitions of a Drone Racing pilot in a new sporting environment

The quadcopter isn’t significantly greater than an iPad, however it can set out at up to 80 miles for every hour, and it’s outfitted with neon-green propellers and a receiving wire that influence it to look like an extensive, curious bug. “It sort of resembles a frog, so I’ve named it Frogger,” MultiGP drone racing pilot says. They are eager to break it—sending it through barrette turns, flipping and bluffing, and attempting to be the first finished the end goal.

In August 2017, MultiGP drone racing pilot take part in drone racing championships like MultiGP Utah racing, Peachtree Cup, and many more drone racing events. FPV hustling to racing steering to settled wing moves—will be the following enormous games sensation, offering out stadiums, drawing in sponsorships, and collecting a huge number of online spectators. (They’re additionally long-term companions of this game) Many sponsors who finance MultiGP racing belongs to different states and cities. In this game, racing pilots come from different places and they appeared like the characteristic place to acquaint anxious geeks with the game, and maybe rouse them to take up drone racing.

When I touched base at Maker Faire, I found the drone brandishing occasions occurring in a range devoted altogether to drone innovation, with stalls for DJI and for free drone producers (huge numbers of the secondary school kids), in addition to two got zones put aside for drone racing. The drone racing track was set up with red and blue banners and texture burrows, intended to compel the drone pilots to influence particularly troublesome high-to speed moves. racing pilots sat outside the wellbeing nets and tried their apparatus, wearing dark FPV goggles that gave them a live perspective of what the drone  “saw” as it flew through the track, by means of a modest locally available camera equipped for transmitting back a live video sustain while another minor camera records video film. The drone racing net was tall and tight, allowing the ruggedized drone quadcopters to pick up a touch of rising before the pilots endeavoured to strongly pummel them together.

The racing net and the battling net were isolated by a risen bank of white tables, which were strewn with drone parts, grouped bites, fastening irons, and power links: the drone pit, where pilots always withdrew to settle broken wires or supplant browned engines.

Here MultiGP drone racing League innovation of Charlie took a ruggedized orange quadcopter through its paces, lifting it off the ground and bluffing it deftly, sitting tight for another drone pilot to advance into the net to start a racing. In the racing, he’d endeavour to thump the other drone out of the sky or into the netting and keep it there. At the point when a drone went down, the pilot would get 90 hysterical seconds to repair the gadget and get it airborne once more. Be that as it may, each pilot just had three opportunities to hit the ground or get tangled in the netting before formally losing the match. The drones moved quick and hit the ground mightily, snapping propellers and kicking up tidy—the pilots wore thick wellbeing goggles, in foresight of flying plastic and electronic parts. Softened propellers up various hues littered the ground, and children in the crowd forcefully gathered and exchanged them like profitable money.

As the races and events went ahead and hordes of participants started to stream into the Maker Faire grounds, MultiGP host drone racing pilot in his seat track-side and started the noisy pattern he’d keep up for the following two days, reporting the pilots and drawing individuals toward the grandstands. “It would be ideal if you attempt this at home!” he rehashed—a directed require the participants toward begin building and flying themselves.

Drone Racing winners have been taking a shot at their do-it-without anyone’s help drone sports class since mid-2016. At first, they concentrated on making ruggedized racing drones before understanding that the high-adrenaline quest for FPV drone racing was winding up progressively well known among the YouTube and Facebook people group of the drone world. They would like to incorporate the alliance with a sorting out the body and amusement property, setting up live races, gushing fights and racing confrontations live on the Internet, and pushing for drone wears the nation over—with an exceptional concentrate on persuading the children and grown-ups to begin fabricating their own particular rigging. They’re by all account not the only wannabe drone hustling big shots: In 2017 MultiGP head put millions in open race while the main ever U.S. National Drone Drone Racing Championships, with money and different prizes. Other little drone racing groups have flown up the nation over, each with a somewhat extraordinary procedure and vision for what the future will hold. MultiGP also created an open group for drone racing pilot and spectators.

So is drone racing truly a game? I think it is, however it is a game that exists in an indistinguishable complex hazy area from proficient and supported computer game players, or MultiGP drivers, or drone racing pilot—interests where achievement depends significantly more on brisk reflexes and key deduction than physical mass or speed, where human capacity and mechanical advancement are intertwined into something we can’t precisely characterize. As far as concerns them, the MultiGP drone racing League are alright with this especially present-day hazy area, however, they call attention to that not at all like computer game rivalries, their rivalries, in any event, happen outside.

“You don’t need to be an extraordinary competitor, yet you’re in the field, you will get a little exercise—it’s a cross between a computer game and being out in reality,” says MultiGP member. “I think guardians like it since it gets their children out of their room, far from Xbox.” And children, obviously, similar to it, in light of the fact that as Delia clarifies, “I’m a superhuman when I fly. You put those goggles on, you’re a James Bond supervillain. It’s awesome.”

Great pilots frequently talk in beautiful, semi-religious terms about drone racing. How being great at it gets them in the zone, how it gives them a chance to stream—or essentially gives them a feeling of rapture that they can’t go anyplace else. “It’s an establishing out-of-body involvement—you’re the hummingbird,” says one of the drone racing pilot. “I can’t manage the cost of a plane, yet I can bear the cost of a drone, and consequently take myself to places a helicopter or a plane could never have the capacity to go.”

There are still a few bugs to work out—like what the tenets are, other than influencing it to the complete to line without slamming. “There are no set standards here, just experimentation,” says drone pilot. “drone racing in the standard is only a half year old. The principles are subject to change one week from now with another form.”

Smashing, as well, is a constant issue. While most drone racers take to it rapidly—involvement with computer games helps—moving a particularly expedient drone around a shut got course is as yet a troublesome suggestion, requiring rehashed, and maybe an inborn comprehension of material science. A great many drones plunged at fast into the netting, stalling out like colossal, spiked creepy crawlies—and nobody was allowed inside the course without a couple of plastic security glasses and a specific shameless eagerness to take a propeller to the face. Speed regularly loses to expertise: “It resembles the tortoise and the rabbit—the tortoise typically wins,” this story we all read in school books.

At that point, there is the fabricate. Nobody truly purchases a racing appropriate drone off the rack. They must be altered and changed, and since they crash (and break) routinely, upkeep is steady—quite recently like with auto racing. The best pilots are additionally refined manufacturers—proficient at utilizing binding irons, programming flight controllers, and reasoning which blend of engines, batteries, and electronic speed controllers will create the quickest flying robot. “I adore going into the carport and tweaking something and seeing a genuine contrast in the field,” says drone racing pilot.

Developers humanize their drones a bit, talk about them in restrictive terms, and grieve a little when they kick the bucket. Drone racing contender had built his Dream Drone over two years back, a male champion of an outline of a particular man commanded brandish.

Source: http://droneracing.bravesites.com/entries/general/drone-racing-is-become-a-professionalized-sport

#drone racing #drone #drone racing pilot

[nichole050505837-blog]

Have Fun With Racing And Sporting Activities

Race Car Games Race Car Games

Challenge your Driving games skills with Car Games, Dirt-Bike Games, and Parking Games Online While all of us dream of trying out those awesome youtube videos where they make a flawless parking at 60 Mph, I can safely (and thankfully) say that none of us actually do. Then there are those who try to get the next best thing ala 3d Games like Grand Turismo, Nascar and Need for Speed, however even a glancing look at the hardware prices required to run those jaw dropping visual effects promptly turns them around. So then, where does the lonely, desperate wannabe speed racer turn to? He turns to the Internet of course! Now for a small sacrifice of visual quality you can vent out all your innate, dormant kung-fu driving skills right of the bat! All you have to do is select which kind of driving tingle your taste-buds the most and give it a shot on many of the sites offering these 3D online racing games. You only have to log on to one of the many online car game sites and pick up a game there. Here are the three most raging game genres available online today: a. Online car games : Now just because I said "for a small sacrifice of visual quality" it does not mean that all you will see is gibberish. Most of the graphics in these fun car games are actually pretty neat! Hop into your favorite Car, be it a Ferrari, Mercedes or even a Truck, select the track and GO, GO, GO. You will be amazed at the variety of challenges these games can throw on you, go spiraling around a mountain or run down a dirt track, your choice. b. Online dirt bike games : Now these are where things get really nasty! Using your browser, you can skillfully tackle roads and tracks which will throw mind bending obstacles, high dunes and low pits, the freezing cold and the scathing heat on you. You also have a choice between many accessories like shock absorbers, lighter bodies, tires etc. As you progress you can unlock more levels, accessories and bikes, it plays just like one of those expensive 3D Games! c. Online parking games : For someone unfamiliar with what a parking game is, this sounds confusing at first, and then becomes pure addiction as they get the hang of it! Most car parking games online offer you three choices. You have to drive a car and park it in an empty space in a set time frame without hitting the obstacles. The Second one is called 18 Wheeler, where you have to park a huge 18 wheeler truck without denting and/or scratching any other vehicles around you. Lastly, my favorite, the skilled parker, where you are giving a race car and have to set it up in a given parking lot within 60 seconds. Since most of these games only require Flash to run you can easily use a standard browser to play them. The number of games and then the number of challenges present within the games will surely keep you busy for quite some time. So go ahead and try some, I dare say you will go OHHHH when you do (pun intended!).

Race Car Games Race Car Games

Summer is here -- that wonderful season when we take our children on trips to enjoy nature and also relaxed family time at the same time. Of course, whether is actually very the cottage, a camp site, perhaps resort, we've got to get there first and that's not always easy. Whether driving in the car, in store for a bus, or waiting at the airport, having something to get done with our kids can be a lifesaver! What our family loves achieve is perform games. I've assembled here some personal favorite gaming programs. The first two are car games, however the rest can work anywhere. Enjoyment! One of your worst questions for kids to repeat on road trips is "Are we there yet?" A splendid way to counteract this complaint through using provide simple maps of your route. Kids can find and mark off landmarks as you reach these items. They will always know right where you are and how long you must be drive motionless. Frogs On a Log: Slideshow fun game for sons and daughters. It has about 4 - 5 frogs landing on a record. The consumer has to roll the mouse through the frogs. The frogs make individual industrial noise. This online girly game, helps them understand about rhythm and compose song titles. Forza Motorsport 3: Amazing game for Xbox, and also the PS3. You can customize over 400 cars, and choose from any from the leading producers. It's a must have, specially if you're into the graphics in the technology race play. This never gets old! Car Flash game and free sports flash flash games websites sites, like car games Free, Sports games Online, is actually a lowest price of thrilling good any time. Internet flash games can thought about lots of fun for children, if you as this done within a responsible manner, there will not be reason they can't take associated with these vast resources. Plan your trip, small business to stop along the way, if so what times best suit your kids own personal requirements. For instance, are you just going to be travelling all day, if so stop around lunch times? Never try and keep going pushing it that little bit further, regardless of what you will still need to stop along with being going to be far more beneficial for anyone to stop as slated. Physiologically speaking, Car-games make us happy because each and every our neuro. When you are involved in a race you experience an grow in your heart and breathing. It is common when the in the very center of rivals. Your mind is so involved with all the game your heart beats faster! Can't deny there's a special joy and thrill to competition and winning. The Internet offers lots of places selling both used and new golf carts. If you don't have a dealer near you, you can do a research Google or Yahoo and come up with hundreds of dealers.

Race Car Games Race Car Games

Challenge your Driving games skills with Car Games, Dirt-Bike Games, and Parking Games Online While all of us dream of trying out those awesome youtube videos where they make a flawless parking at 60 Mph, I can safely (and thankfully) say that none of us actually do. Then there are those who try to get the next best thing ala 3d Games like Grand Turismo, Nascar and Need for Speed, however even a glancing look at the hardware prices required to run those jaw dropping visual effects promptly turns them around. So then, where does the lonely, desperate wannabe speed racer turn to? He turns to the Internet of course! Now for a small sacrifice of visual quality you can vent out all your innate, dormant kung-fu driving skills right of the bat! All you have to do is select which kind of driving tingle your taste-buds the most and give it a shot on many of the sites offering these 3D online racing games. You only have to log on to one of the many online car game sites and pick up a game there. Here are the three most raging game genres available online today: a. Online car games : Now just because I said "for a small sacrifice of visual quality" it does not mean that all you will see is gibberish. Most of the graphics in these fun car games are actually pretty neat! Hop into your favorite Car, be it a Ferrari, Mercedes or even a Truck, select the track and GO, GO, GO. You will be amazed at the variety of challenges these games can throw on you, go spiraling around a mountain or run down a dirt track, your choice. b. Online dirt bike games : Now these are where things get really nasty! Using your browser, you can skillfully tackle roads and tracks which will throw mind bending obstacles, high dunes and low pits, the freezing cold and the scathing heat on you. You also have a choice between many accessories like shock absorbers, lighter bodies, tires etc. As you progress you can unlock more levels, accessories and bikes, it plays just like one of those expensive 3D Games! c. Online parking games : For someone unfamiliar with what a parking game is, this sounds confusing at first, and then becomes pure addiction as they get the hang of it! Most car parking games online offer you three choices. You have to drive a car and park it in an empty space in a set time frame without hitting the obstacles. The Second one is called 18 Wheeler, where you have to park a huge 18 wheeler truck without denting and/or scratching any other vehicles around you. Lastly, my favorite, the skilled parker, where you are giving a race car and have to set it up in a given parking lot within 60 seconds. Since most of these games only require Flash to run you can easily use a standard browser to play them. The number of games and then the number of challenges present within the games will surely keep you busy for quite some time. So go ahead and try some, I dare say you will go OHHHH when you do (pun intended!).

Race Car Games Race Car Games

[mrmedia]

697 Joe Murray, animator, "Rocko's Modern Life," "Camp Lazlo"

Today's Guest: Joe Murray, animation creator, "Rocko's Modern Life," "Camp Lazlo"

Mr. Media is recorded live before a studio audience of two-dimensional, banana-mouthed warthogs in the new new media capital of the world and home of the best team in baseball… St. Petersburg, Florida!

Order from Amazon.com by clicking the book cover above

Joe Murray has a natural flair for animation and characters that are bursting with... character. But between you and me—and I gotta be honest here—he is also responsible for creating some of the ugliest cartoon characters in history. Have you ever really looked at Rocko, the star of his original Nickelodeon hit, Rocko’s Modern Life? What is that? And Lazlo—OMG! But his cartoons look great, despite the somewhat hideous characters, and kids love them. I know this first hand; my almost 14-year-old daughter to this day insists she is Camp Lazlo’s #1 fan.

Order 'Rocko's Modern Life: The Complete Series' by Joe Murray, available from Amazon.com by clicking on the DVD boxed set above! JOE MURRAY audio excerpt: "I have never been introduced before by talking about the hideousness of my characters! Rocko and Lazlo are my children! But the characters are all about imperfections."

Murray, the creator of all this madness, just published a fascinating book called Creating Animated Cartoons with Character: A Guide to Developing and Producing Your Own Series for TV, the Web, and Short Film. Even if you’re not a wannabe animated but just a fan of the art, you’ll find plenty to read about here. The book is packed with practical information, behind-the-scenes anecdotes, rare production sketches and Q&As with an array of familiar animators, from Craig McCracken, creator of The Powerpuff Girls and Dexter’s Laboratory to the creator and voice of SpongeBob Squarepants, respectively, Steve Hillenberg and Tom Kenny. Speaking of Kenny, we'll give a listen to Murray and Kenny at work on a new series they’re developing for KaBoingTV.com, Frog in a Suit. We’ll also have an actual sneak preview from Frog in a Suit in the second half of today’s show. Joe Murray Website • Facebook • Twitter • Order Creating Animated Cartoons with Character from Amazon.com

Order Will Eisner: A Spirited Life (2nd Edition) by Bob Andelman, available from Amazon.com by clicking on the book cover above!

    The Party Authority in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland!

Check out this episode!