man who plays music

In which the writer takes La La Land and makes it better –
maybe, makes it good
makes it fourteen nominations worthy,
by making it honest, by making it true,
by making it star Gina Rodriguez.

Opposite John Boyega, maybe.
Maybe take John Legend out of the villain role and into the starring.
But certainly, most definitely, starring Gina Rodriguez.
She will walk into the audition room, past a thousand blondes in a thousand white shirts, tuck her dark hair behind her gold hoop, and deliver the best audition that has ever been done, and she will be asked if she can do it again, but this time with a thicker Mexican accent.
She will work at the coffee shop and go to school, and she will call her mother at least twice a day to assure her she’s eating enough.
She will live in LA, a bright pastel of a city, and wonder if pale is how everything should look.
She will try to be pale.
She will take the bus everywhere.
She will debate between the boring reliability of stable man with stable suit, or the exciting prospect of a man who plays the music of her heartbeat.
She will choose herself, in the end, knowing that for all the world’s beauty, she is the city of stars, sparkling bright against the dim backdrop.
She will be complex, and she will cry, and mourn for a love everyone told her was the grand prize. And then she will rebuild herself, piece by piece, until she doesn’t sting but shine.
She will do all this, and I will cry, the kind of tears that come with the relief of knowing you are alive, that you exist, that someone sees you plain as you are and knows the specificity of being you
I will be able to paint a world where those like us can dance through the streets without fear.
I will be able to see myself in every happy ending, and write my own.
I will see a world where no one takes only what is easy about me.

—  4/30 | bianca phipps
I think Yuuri knows how to play the piano!

“Hm? Is that a piano?”

Yuuri looks up from where he’s sorting out his laundry, a sock in one hand and a shirt in another. He puts the sock to one side and begins folding the shirt, Victor’s shirt that he keeps forgetting to give back. “Oh, that? I got that keyboard a long time ago—before I went to Detroit, even.”

Victor tilts his head from where he sits on the bed, feet stretched out before him. Blinks and looks at Yuuri. “Do you still play?”


“Play for me?”

Smiling, Yuuri sets aside one of Victor’s scarves and stands. “Any requests?”

“Your song,” the Russian says decisively after a heartbeat of thinking. “Yuri on Ice.”

“Hmm. I never learned it,” Japan’s top figure skater admits. He shakes his head and pulls out the keyboard from where it sits propped against his closet. “But I can try.”

“You can do that?” Victor asks. The words, You’re that good at playing? go unsaid.

Yuuri shrugs, plugs the keyboard into the wall and turns the machine on. “Sure,” he answers, fingers running over scales like water pouring from a fountain. The sound is crisp and clear, and Victor finds himself pleasantly surprised. He wonders why.

“I’ve skated to this song so many times it’s practically engraved in my head,” the brunet continues, moving into arpeggios and rhythmic exercises. The keyboard moves slightly as Yuuri presses into the keys, the device pushing into the yielding mattress. “Just give me a second to warm up.”

As Yuuri’s fingers drift over the keys, Victor swings his feet back and forth. “How did you start playing?”

Yuuri’s fingers don’t stop, unheeding of or perhaps disregarding the conversation. Yuuri turns to look at the older man and hums. “I saw a video of someone playing the piano and decided to learn.”

“Did you take lessons?”

“For a time, yes.”

“How old were you when you started?”

Yuuri huffs a laugh from his nose and tests out various chords. “Is this an interrogation now?”

“Well, I never knew you could play. Is it so wrong to want to learn more about your boyfriend?”

“Mm.” Yuuri pauses, looking down at his hands. “I started when I was relatively young. Six, I think?”

“That is young.”

“Well, I stopped being so serious about it when I began taking ballet lessons. And then skating took up most of my time after that.”

“But you still play?”

“I still play.”

Yuuri begins then, starting with the sixteenth note triplets, and Victor closes his mouth and just listens. It’s lovely—reminds him of when he first listened to it, half asleep and with Yuuri excitedly leaning over his lap. Reminds him of his former student, of his lover before they became lovers.

“You’re very good at this.”

Closing his eyes and letting himself visualize the music inside his head, Yuuri leans back and feels his lips quirk into a half-smile. “I’m not the type to let a skill atrophy without practice.”

“That’s not you, no,” Victor agrees.

And they both listen, then, to the music pouring out of the cheap keyboard roused from its sleep. He times his breathing to the swelling of the melody, to the rise and fall of the notes, to the cadence of the moment. Victor leans against Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri leans back, the two of them content to relive their memories through the passage of sound.

It’s a peaceful moment filled with peaceful feelings. Victor tells himself to ask Yuuri to play more music for him from now on.

anonymous asked:

hey so I really like the Hamilton soundtrack and I'd love to be a bigger part of the fan base but I don't think I'll be able to see it any time soon considering tickets are sold out for the next 6 months. do you know how I could learn more about the show or get to see more of it so I can enjoy all these posts and stuff about it? bc right now I don't know anything about it

hello, friend! without knowing your background/context, here’s a bunch of info that you might already know: both about the show & keeping up with the current culture around the show. in the interest of being actually a consumable volume, this is a non-completionist highlights anthology. (also, disclaimer: I am not very involved in Broadway fandom, so I’m sure there’s particularly a lot out there fandom-wise that I’m missing!) without further ado, under the read-more

(UPDATED 10/8: squad)

Keep reading

AU idea that I’ll never write #9281

Natasha owns a bar, The Widow. 
James Barnes works behind the counter of The Widow.
James Barnes is increasingly smitten by the man who comes in every Saturday and plays music for four hours. 
Sometimes, this man plays guitar. Others, the piano. Others yet, he sings. 
There does not seem to be an instrument that the man cannot play.
Yes, James has been introduced to the man. 
While the Musician is confident, suave, and an extrovert; Clint Barton is clumsy, puts his foot in his mouth more often than not, and definitely an introvert.

James might just be falling in love with him anyway.

Land Legs (Male!Ariel x Reaer) (Request)

Picture Not Mine

Anonymous:  Hey can someone do a male! Ariel x reader?? (I’m not too sure how that would work though… o-O)

Anonymous: Do you think you can do a male!ariel x reader lemon? Somehow… And I want it to be like kinda fluffy too.

Word Count:1370

Ps. So like the rest of my male!Ariel fics the name is still Ariel! Also I put these two requests together because I think they wanted the same thing! Also its not much of a lemon and I’m sorry for that but I felt like my skills for it weren’t best of it and I really just wanted to get this story out for you guys. I might come back to it later or write another one when i have more time that is a full blown lemon.

Keep reading

Jump right in and swim until you’re free

On Pike, and the sea, and making whole what once was broken, and being lost before you can be found.

Title from “Atlas Hands” by Benjamin Francis Leftwich, from Pike’s spotify playlist.

[read on ao3]

The sea is lonely, at first.

The sailors know each other, know the slope of the deck, know the rasp of rope across their hands. They know the spray of the water and the sting of the salt and the sigh of the waves, steady like the turn of the world. Pike does not know these things. Pike does not know these people or their world. Pike watches them, eyes shadowed and hungry, and she does not know what she is seeking but she does not find it.

She spends the hours she is not working––and they are few and far between, for there is always work to be done upon the ship, and she has the slope of the deck to learn, and the rasp of rope, and the tricks and turns of life among the emptiness of the ocean––staring out at the horizon, the threshold of the world where sky meets water. Some days it is slate, heavy and low. Some days it is impossibly blue, blinding. Some days it is close enough to reach out and touch; some days it is impossibly far away. Some days it is a gaping, hungry mouth, ready to swallow everything. Some days it is closed tight.

Those are bad days, when the horizon is locked away.

The sea is a lonely, lonely place.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

the middle aged man who got annoyed at HL for playing loud music and disturbing his quiet jamaica vacation is probably one of my favorite receipts.

That one was particularly delightful

Just a Little Tipsy

Hey Miraculors! Here’s a one-shot that I wrote with @heir-of-rowena-ravenclaw! Hope you enjoy a tipsy Ladybug! 😉 😉 *******

“Happy Birthday, Dad!” Marinette exclaimed as she gave him his gift. “Thank you sweetheart!” he said with a wide smile on his face. It was huge day for the Dupain-Cheng family. It was Tom’s 50th birthday today and Marinette’s extended family had already started to flow into the hall. Huge silver and gold balloons hung in arches over their heads and extravagant white and gold table arrangements set the scene. It was already getting dark and Marinette was thankful that an akuma hadn’t appeared that day.
She took a glass of wine from a passing waiter and took a sip. She wasn’t fond of wine but this particular one had a sweeter taste and she found herself steadily drinking the whole glass. “Careful there, Mari. You don’t want to go around looking like a drunkard,” her mom said as she placed a gentle hand on her daughters shoulder. “I know your father and I let you have little sips of wine as a child but please watch yourself.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything. All the cousins are old enough to entertain themselves and I don’t have to babysit them,” Marinette said with a lazy wave towards a table where all her cousins were seated and chatting amongst each other. Her mom gave her a look and Marinette grinned. “Okay, I’ll go easy on the wine. I promise.” Her mom nodded approvingly, smiling as she walked back to her husband. Marinette smiled and grabbed another glass.
“One more wouldn’t hurt, right?”
* * *
A few hours later the party was in full swing with a DJ and pounding music coming from the speakers. Marinette danced with her relatives, not realizing how much wine she was consuming while dancing. The waiters kept passing through the crowd, allowing her to drop off off the empty glasses and snatch up new ones with ease. Soon, she began to feel dizzy, stumbling over her shoes while sweat dripped down her flustered face. Marinette walked outside as quickly as she could. The cool air was a relief to her hot face and she took deep breaths trying to make the world stop spinning. She hugged her stomach, groaning as her vision went back to normal. “Marinette, you should never do that to yourself, you could get hurt!” Tikki fussed as she flew out of her bag. “I know and I’ll never do it again,” Marinette mumbled as she looked at the night sky. She took out her phone and clumsily messaged her mom to tell her that she was going home because she was exhausted and still had to do homework the next morning.
“Okay, Tikki, lets go home-“ A scream burst through the air and Marinette loudly swore. “Really? An akuma? Now?“ With frustration and wine coursing through her veins she transformed and followed the screams. To her relief, Chat Noir was there already and he was doing pretty well. The akuma appeared to be an old man who was sick of teenagers playing loud music and disturbing his rest. He was using a sound wave gun to shatter glass and other objects around him, causing mayhem but no real injuries. He wasn’t a difficult akuma to beat and within minutes, they had freed the old man without the use of Lucky Charm or Cataclysm. “Pound it!” Chat gleefully said as he thrust out his arm but slowly raised an eyebrow and lowered his arm.
“My Lady…are you okay?” He cautiously asked, puzzled by her behavior.
Ladybug turned around and stumbled but quickly corrected her balance. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be!?” she yelled giddily. With all of her movement and running, the alcohol was pumping through her system faster now, having the effect of making everything blurry and exaggerated. “Well, you’re yelling for one and you keep stumbling all over the place,” he stated with a smirk. “Well aren’t you a Mr-Know-It-All?!” she shouted as she twirled around with her yoyo, almost falling over several times. “LUCKY CHARM!” she yelled, not realizing that she hadn’t done it correctly. “Ladybug…please let’s go…” Chat began nervously. “Hey Chat!!” Ladybug bellowed as she stumbled towards him and gripped his shoulders. “I think I’m going to tell you my identity!” she loudly whispered in his ear. Panic set in Chat with an intensity and he could see that people had started staring. “Okay, My Lady. Time to get going.” Chat hurriedly said while he wrapped an arm around her and, with his baton, flew through the air and landed on a rooftop where no one could see or hear them.
“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!” she yelled when Chat let go of her, a continuation of her drunk delusions. Ladybug wobbled towards the edge of the roof and Chat quickly grabbed her. “Okay, let’s sit down now,” he said with worry in his voice. “My Lady, have you been drinking?” he asked putting a hand on her shoulder. “NO! Pfft, me? Ladybug? Defender of Paris? No way!” she said as she hiccupped. Chat couldn’t help but laugh helplessly. Here was the love of his life, drunk and he had to witness it.
Chat Noir wasn’t clueless to drinking. Usually at fashion show after parties, a lot of drinking occurred and he had participated a few times but never got totally smashed. There was that one incident though, when he had stolen some wine from the cellar so he could get drunk. The scene to cause this was when his father had first given him a pen for his birthday. ‘But seriously, a pen?’ He thought rudely. ‘You’re a rich fashion designer and you decide that getting your son a pen will be the perfect present.’ Shaking his head, Chat banished those thoughts to the recesses of his mind.
Ladybug leaned against him. “You know, this is usually the part of the story where the guy takes advantage of the situation,” Ladybug said, trying to be seductive while leaning closer to him. Chat felt his jaw drop and heat creep up his cheeks. “I-I don’t think t-that’s a g-g-good i-idea,” he stammered. “Oh, C’mon, kitty. I’m giving you permission.” Ladybug touched his cheek but Chat shook his head. “My Lady, you aren’t thinking straight and therefore have not given me proper consent. I refuse to do anything of the sort to you.” He sternly said, telling himself as much as he told her. Ladybug sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Okay, well you’re missing out-OW! Everything is spinning,” she groaned pitifully. “I know,” he said rubbing her back.
“All the stars are big glowing lights,” she mumbled. “And people are just tiny little microorganisms.” Chat grinned. At least she had stopped being all flirty. “Chat…I really do want to tell you who I am but…” Chat put a gloved finger on her lips, knowing that this wasn’t the right time or place for that. “Shhh…you just need to sleep.” He murmured. Ladybug nodded and closed her eyes. “I’m scared if other people find out who I am, they would be disappointed, but with you…I don’t have to be scared or worried…because I trust you.” Chat froze, tail kinked up stiffly in the air.
‘Did she really mean all of that?’
‘She’s drunk! You can’t expect everything she says to be true!’’ He told himself, ridiculing the thoughts of believing her. “I mean it, Chat. I really do trust you! Which is why my real name is…” Chat was ready to close his ears so that he wouldn’t hear her name but realized that she had fallen asleep. He sighed and took her in his arms, carefully arranging her to be comfortable. Chat smiled softly as he looked at her sleeping face. He gently tucked away a stray strand of hair that had strewn itself on her cheek.
“Maybe not yet, My Lady.”


This is a photo of me the happiest I’ve been in a long time.

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written one of these, but I’m trying to watch Deadpool on a flight to Seattle and I can’t focus because I’m full of thoughts I need to put down. Better late than never again, I suppose.

We’re coming to the end of leg one of The Stories For Monday Tour, and it’s been nothing but a rollercoaster ride thus far. Thank you “Western Conference” America for bringing The Summer Set back to life on stage.

I FEEL so much more when I’m on tour. Love. Hope. Faith. Fear. Happiness. Loneliness. Adventure. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this and I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. I’m alive again and firing on all cylinders.

The silver lining to “almost breaking up” last year is that now, every single night, we go on stage more grateful than we’ve ever been. We are having fun again snd it shows.

I think we hit a wall at the end of Legendary and jaded ourselves. We were exhausted and it made us apathetic about rushing into a new album. We needed the break. Because now, every minute in every city matters. From each fan in every meet & greet, to evert local cup of coffee. From the biggest shows to the most intimate. You never realize how much you truly love something until you’re about to let it go.

To say the least, It’s been an adventure playing for 90 minutes every night. When we started this tour it was important to me to not just “make it” through the set each night, but to make damn sure that minute 61 of our show was just as exciting and impactful as minute 1.

With that being said, I think these are the best shows we’ve ever played. For a man who wanted to give up on music last year, it sure feels like I’ve come a long way.

See you soon.



Happy 20th birthday Michael Gordon Clifford!

I guess that’s it, yeah? You’re officially not a teenager anymore. The little boy from Australia with a big dreams became a real man who plays a big role in the music industry. Gosh, I can’t believe how much has changed since I first saw you on youtube. Time goes by so quickly. It feels like it was yesterday when you were this cute dork with a shy voice and now here you are, playing on important events, singing at the top of your lungs.

Today is your day and you should enjoy it. 

Teya (@cliffordstralia)

the more cr1tikal opens up on social media the nicer a person he seems tbh. he is a simple and kind man who just wants to play musical instruments and wear animal slippers. i trust him

anonymous asked:

...... I think your asks got messed up or something bc you're answering the wrong questions on the wrong asks

tbh I don’t even know who bon iver is beyond that he is an old white man who played rock music a while back that’s all I know