#Is julian from philly???

[luckyreds]

I find it hilarious that in modern aus of BofB you have the Philly squad which most of the time consists of: Bill, Fran, Spina, Babe and Julian. When in fact Julian isn’t from Philly at all. That bitch is from Alabama!!

Like, he hoodwinked himself into Philly nativedom just by being Babe’s bff much like Babe wormed his way into the Toccoa group because of his instant friendship with Bill.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER NINE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

kalena speakss 🪽! chapter in honor of game day! but it’s not looking too good for our faves i fear.

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“Can you open the door?”

“In a second, K! Be patient!”

“We need to talk, open this door!” Kaylee yells, her fist pounding against the door.

I groan, tugging on some sweatpants and a shirt over my recently moisturized body. I had just gotten back from my pilates class, fresh out of a shower when she called and told me she’d be visiting.

I throw open the door, stumbling over my pant leg. “What?”

“We need to talk about your birthday show.”

The show is something we’ve been planning all year, music is what I love and I wanted to spend my birthday doing what I loved. But still, this show has been finalized for weeks, so I huff at Kaylee irritatedly. She dragged me out of the shower and banged on my door to talk about this?

“What about it, K?”

“So Summer backed out.” She starts, walking into my condo and dropping her bag on the table. She stands in my kitchen, pulling her work phone out of her pocket and setting the other on the counter. “Something came up, but I got KWN to take her spot.”

“That all could’ve been a text message. Or a phone call.” I laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder so it would stop dripping down my back. “Why are you here?”

“What, you don’t want me here? Julian around or something?”

My eyes can’t help but roll at the mention. Not because of him, but because of the serious beef between the two.

“No he’s at a conference in Philly— are you guys ever gonna figure out your problems, by the way?” I question with a giggle. I turn around, my back facing Kaylee as I walk into my living room allowing her to make herself at home.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between me or herself even though I’m waiting for a response. When I look up from my spot on the couch her eyes are small, squinting at me. Kaylee is chewing on her bottom lip as she approaches me, gears turning in her head.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the cameras last night.” She says. “You sure you didn’t mess with it?”

I try to avoid looking at her. I’m a good liar, but Kaylee has known me since I was 18, I can’t lie to her anymore. She’s suspicious, and though I don’t know of what it’s still incredibly nerve wracking.

“Yeah. Not at all.” Which technically isn’t a lie, I never touched that button, Paige did.

Kaylee nods, her head tilting back and forth like she’s weighing odds in her head. “And what’s his name is in Philly, yes?”

“Yes. Kaylee, what’s up with all the—”

The way she slouches on the couch next to me is exaggerated, a small thump when she cuts me off. “So then who gave you that hickey, Raye? Or all of them.”

In all honesty, I could’ve kept the lie going. I should’ve kept it going. I could act clueless, or tell her it was a bug bite, or that Julian left it a while ago. So many things I could’ve said but I chose to sit there quietly. The words piling on my tongue and dying there.

“Raye, I’m not gonna be mad. Just let me know now, so I can handle it if I need to.” She reassures me.

“No, no, you’re definitely gonna be mad.”

“Was it Paige?” I open my mouth to speak before kissing my teeth. When I make eye contact with her, she’s covering her mouth incredulously. “Raye, no.” She whines.

“I’m sorry!” I start apologizing, but in my heart I know I don’t regret anything.

“You’re gay?”

“I don’t think that’s the most important topic at hand.”

“Right, sorry.” She laughs, covering her mouth and brushing it off.

Even though I can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of my neck, I should feel embarrassed but all I can think about in my head is the manner in which the blonde left those marks on my neck.

I keep replaying that moment when I got home. Heavily buzzed and exhausted, standing in front of the mirror with my hand running across the tender skin. And the moment immediately following when Paige filled my phone with more teasing texts messages.

I remember even before then, when she was laying me down and feeling me up. Being so fucking vulgar in my ears as she told me what she wanted to do to me. So forward and nasty towards me.

The marks on my neck were a bright red last night that transformed into a deep purple when I woke up this morning. It was obvious that Paige was awfully proud of her work and how flustered she got me. After Kaylee walked in and we sat there on the couch, that smirk never seemed to leave her face.

“Those pictures. Were you guys—”

“No, we weren’t doing anything then. I promise.” I reassured. Kaylee isn’t even angry when she looks at me, but her eyes are disappointed; I’ve known her long enough to know that look. “I dunno, she just makes me feel different.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself. Kaylee simply wouldn’t understand why I chose to cheat on my pretty decent human being of a boyfriend, for a girl I’ve known for a month and a half. There really isn’t an explanation or excuse to be given. I made a mistake. A really bad one, but even then it doesn’t feel like it.

Paige doesn’t feel like a mistake, I couldn’t ever classify her as one.

The woman next to me straightens up, her elbows resting on her knees. She puts her head in her hands, thinking of what to say to me. “Different? You have feelings for her? Or are you guys just hooking up?”

“We haven’t slept together, K.”

She raises her head gingerly. “Wait so...” Kaylee begins. Her body turns to face me, suddenly I’m even more aware of the bruises on my neck. “You’re telling me, you and her have been kissing and hanging out or whatever. Telling me that you’re just friends, when you’re not. But you haven’t slept with her and might have feelings for her?”

“It’s complicated, Kaylee. I—”

“It’s messy, Raye, that’s what it is!” She runs her fingers through her short brunette hair. “You can’t be putting yourself in scandals like this. What if Julian finds out and runs to the blogs? Or if Paige outs your little affair to someone.”

I don’t hesitate to defend Paige with my first breath. “She wouldn’t do something like that.”

“You don’t know that! Y’think she can’t be pillow talking someone else right now?”

I haven’t even thought about the possibility of Paige doing all this with someone else. She isn’t like that, right? Rumors supporting that idea exist, sure, but that isn’t who she is.

“You’re still with Julian while messing with her. You think she isn’t messing with someone else either?” Kaylee practically digs the knife in deeper. “You’re thinking with your heart, not your head, Raye you know better than that.”

I do know better. I’ve always put my career first, but all it took was some icy blue eyes and blond hair to make me lose all my common sense.

I tear my eyes away from her, staring down at my hands. It feels like the weight of the world was sitting on my chest. “Fucking hell.” I mumble under my breath.

“You need to make a choice, babe. It can’t be both, you know that.”

I let out a loud groan, being forced to come to terms with all of this. “Yeah, I know.” I huff. I deserve this, I made this mess, let Paige get this close when I knew I shouldn’t have.

She was always there, everything I ever went through with Julian, Paige was the ear I needed. And because of that she weaved her way into my life and threaded a giant knot that I was left to untangle.

Then there’s Julian. Who even passed all the yelling is still the sweetheart I fell for in the first place. Lifting me up, and supporting me through it all. Yet, I still went out of my way to hurt him over and over again.

I’m fucking screwed.

—

marayemusic

liked by paigebueckers, julianbaker_, and 2,307 others

marayemusic music video coming soon 🕯️?

view all comments | 2 minutes ago

—

June 2025 — Malibu, California

“Two minutes is crazy, P.”

“Shut up. Quit being nosy.” I responded.

We played the Storm at home tonight, adding another much needed win to our season. As a result, Nika sits across from me at our table at Nobu, a much needed catch up with my good friend.

“I’m not! I wanted to talk to you about it anyway.” Nika hums. She’s smirking at me by the time I pocket my phone in my brown pants. “Those photos look like you got a lil girlfriend.”

“Definitely not a girlfriend. It’s complicated, Nik.” I answer, reaching for my passion fruit drink and taking a sip. “She got a boyfriend.”

Nika’s jaw drops as she looks at me. Maraye and Julian’s relationship is still surprisingly kept out of the public eye. I had to applaud her for it, I didn’t think she would be able to pull it off with how much Julian had been nagging her.

“Are you being serious.” Nika asks me. Our server comes back to the table with our food. I smile, muttering a thank you and taking my plate of Wagyu salad.

“Oh yeah. Deadass serious.”

“Paige.”

“I swear it’s not my fault.” I shake my head in defense. “She just— it’s literally impossible to stay away from her, bro.”

Nika doesn’t even try to stop the cackle that leaves her throat, ridiculing me and I can’t help but laugh with her. If I wasn’t in this position, I probably would’ve been laughing at myself too. Down bad over a girl who’s in a relationship, and allegedly straight. It’s truly comical.

“Oh my God, you’re pussy whipped!”

“Chill!” I scold, kicking her leg under the table in an attempt to quiet her down from yelling obscenities in this nice ass restaurant. “I haven’t even had sex with her, Nik. This ain’t what you think it is.”

She feeds a piece of sushi into her mouth. “You know what this reminds me of?” Nika asks, tapping her chopstick against the ceramic plate. “This reminds me of Nyla.”

I stop digging into my salad and roll my eyes at the mention of her name. The mention of the girl who I had been seeing for a large part of my college career. We’d slept together for a while, then I caught feelings and made it complicated. In all honesty you could blame Nyla for my lack of dating, but this wasn’t that.

Maraye wasn’t anything like Nyla whatsoever. I truly believed that.

“There’s been many other girls since Nyla, y’know that right?” I explain, my lips moving into a tight line.

“Ew, I don’t need to know about your slut activities, P.” She brushes me off.

“You asked!” I counter.

“My point is, you’re letting yourself get in too deep again.” She tells me and I turn my attention back to my food. “I’m not your mom. Explore, get to know people, I don’t care. But exploring with the straight girl, with a man is gonna get you hurt, P.”

My leg bounces soundly under the table. It’s a weird feeling, because in my heart I know Maraye is nothing like Nyla. But at the same time, we’re doing all that we’re doing while she goes back home to Julian.

“I can never figure her out.” I start, catching Nika slightly off guard. “I dunno if she likes me, or if she just wants sex, or if I’m jus’ a distraction for him.”

“You caught feelings for her, didn’t you.”

I hate that word. Feelings. I hate admitting them, I hate feeling them.

I think I do have feelings for Raye. She’s all I ever seem to be thinking about nowadays. I’m searching for her in everyone else. When someone laughs I’m thinking that it doesn’t sound like hers, or how someone’s perfume doesn’t smell as good as her’s does.

“I feel something for her, that’s for damn sure.” I shrug, mouth full of some fancy steak. “I needa clear my head, I’m never thinking straight when it comes to her.”

Nika stifles a giggle, covering her mouth with her palm.

“What?” I ask.

“Not thinking straight. Get it.”

I stare blankly before shaking my head. This was the person who I was trusting to give me advice. “Ha ha, dyke joke. Real funny Nik.”

“You said it, not me!” The giggles some more before finally pulling herself together. “All I’m saying, is that you don’t deserve to get hurt again. Take some time, figure it all out, and then be honest with her.”

I nod, taking it all in. Maraye is amazing in all ways possible, and I shamelessly want her to myself. But unfortunately that just isn’t the case. She isn’t my own, she belongs to someone else. I keep telling myself that I have to respect that, but it just becomes harder and harder every damn day.

I don’t know how to be second best. I’ve never been second best or allowed myself to be that. Whether it’s basketball or anything else in life, I’d rather be dead last than second best.

So to know that Julian is Maraye’s first choice, and I’m forced to be second is fucking unbearable.

Maybe I do need space. Figure out what it is I want from her and move forward from there. I don’t know how to do that though. I was fucking miserable that week where she wasn’t texting me, now I need space. Funny how that works.

“P?”

“Hmm?”

“You good?” Nika asks, spicy mayo at the corner of her lips.

I nod, feeling my mood slightly diminish just thinking about all this. “Yeah, fine. How’s recovery goin’?” I ask, changing the subject and moving the spotlight off of myself.

[baura-bear]

tell me about your ww2 men

ohohoho you have no clue the can of worms you've opened >:)

my primary fixation at the moment is Band of Brothers but I thoroughly enjoy the other HBO war shows (The Pacific, Masters of the Air) and other war media because what's more fun than taking the bond that men form while in their most desperate moments and turning it into something gay!

Band of Brothers is about the 101st Airborne Division and their tour of Europe (specifically Easy Company) My top ships at the moment are Winnix and Baberoe (though there are SEVERAL more but that would take hours to get into). Also gotta preface because I know you haven't seen it. I am NOT shipping the actual dudes. Just their fictional counterparts (though a lot of the stuff irl men did was suspicious as hell...)

Winnix is Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon who are basically polar opposites. Dick grew up in rural Pennsylvania to a Mennonite mother, never drank, humble family, you get the vision. Nix was super fucking rich, went to Yale, had family homes in New York and California, spent his youth traveling Europe, and was an alcoholic. Despite them being polar opposites they became best friends and spent the entirety of the war side by side. Like. riiiigghhhtttt. suuuureeee. you're not in love. basically every guy that wrote about them was like "yeah i had no clue why they got along they were nothing alike" anyway they defo fucked in a foxhole

Baberoe Is Eugene Roe (medic hehe) and Edward "Babe" Heffron. There's an entire episode that centers around their dynamic and Eugene's role as a medic. The entire episode Babe is getting more and more frustrated that Gene won't call him "Babe" (like everyone else does) and is instead calling him "Heffron" or "Edward". This episode takes place during the Battle of the Bulge so it's pretty dismal and Eugene is just becoming more and more distant trying to disassociate from the horrors of battle and watching men die. Babe's friend Julian ends up dying and he feels guilty because they promised each other that if either died they would collect his stuff and bring it to his mother. Babe is unable to get Julian's stuff so he's really fucking torn up. Eugene quite literally feeds him chocolate and then cuddles him in a foxhole???? because that's a normal thing to do right. everyone cuddles their homies in the foxhole. The episode ends with Babe and Eugene sitting together in a foxhole while Eugene patches up a cut on Babe's hand (I can't even begin to unpack the significance of the bandage he uses but trust me there's more gay levels to this shit) Eugene calls him "Babe" finally which Babe is very excited about "Hey, Gene, you called me Babe!" "I did? when?" "Just now." "Babe. I guess i did." "Heheh! Babe." "Heffron. Watch the goddamn line" Also Eugene is from Louisiana and Babe is from Philly so they both have silly accents that I love

Beyond like making them gay and shipping them I do actually just think the story is very compelling and admirable AND it's a beautiful show. Like from the cinematography to the writing, acting, music. It's so good. There's a reason it holds up 20+ years later

i could literally write paragraphs but i won't subject you to that torture

[jpbjazz]

LÉGENDES DU JAZZ

FREDDIE HUBBARD, UN GÉNIE MÉCONNU

‘’From the moment he played one note, you knew that was Freddie Hubbard. So he had a sound that was distinctive as Miles Davis, as Louis Armstrong, as Clifford Brown. I mean, he’s one of those trumpet players. He’s also an extraordinary powerful player - great stamina, great range. He swung very hard, was a beautiful ballad player {...}. He was quite a musician.’’

- Stanley Crouch

Né le 7 avril 1938 à Indianapolis en Indiana, Freddie Hubbard a commencé sa carrière musicale comme membre du groupe du Arsenal Technical High School à Indianapolis, où il a appris à jouer du tuba, du cor français et du mellaphone (une sorte de trompette), avant de fixer son choix sur la trompette et le flugelhorn. Freddie avait été initié au jazz par son frère Earmon Jr., un pianiste qui était un grand admirateur de Bud Powell.

Après avoir constaté son grand talent, le trompettiste Lee Katzman, qui avait joué dans l’orchestre de Stan Kenton, lui avait conseillé d’aller étudier au Arthur Jordan Conservatory of Music (devenu de nos jours le Jordan College of the Arts de l’Université Butler) avec Max Woodbury, le trompettiste principal de l’Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra. À l’adolescence, Hubbard avait participé à sa première session d’enregistrement en accompagnant les frères Wes et Montgomery. Il avait aussi collaboré avec le bassiste Larry Ridley et le saxophoniste James Spaulding. À la même époque où Hubbard participait à son premier enregistrement avec les frères Montgomery, il avait fondé un premier groupe nommé ‘’The Jazz Contemporaries’’ avec le bassiste Larry Ridley, le saxophoniste et flutiste James Spaulding, le pianiste Walt Miller et le batteur Paul Parker. Le groupe se produisait souvent au George’s Bar, un club très populaire sur l’Indiana Avenue.

UNE ASCENSION RAPIDE

En 1958, à l’âge de vingt ans, Hubbard s’était installé à New York. Hubbard avait connu un succès instantané en accompagnant les meilleurs musiciens de jazz de l’époque, dont Philly Joe Jones, Sonny Rollins, Slide Hampton, Eric Dolphy, J.J. Johnson et Quincy Jones. À la même période, Hubbard avait aussi partagé un appartement avec le multi-insrumentiste Eric Dolphy.

Sur la recommandation de Miles Davis, Hubbard avait signé un contrat avec Blue Note avec qui il avait  enregistré son premier album comme leader en novembre 1960, intitulé ‘’Open Sesame.’’ Participaient à l’enregistrement le saxophoniste Tina Brooks, le pianiste McCoy Tyner, le bassiste Sam Jones et le batteur Clifford Jarvis. Six jours plus tard, Hubbard avait renvoyé l’ascenseur à Brooks en collaborant à son album True Blue. En l’espace d’un an, Hubbard avait enregistré deux autres albums, ‘’Going Up’’, avec McCoy Tyner et Hank Mobley, ainsi que ‘’Hub Cap’’, avec Julian Priester et Jimmy Heath.

Après avoir entendu Hubbard jouer avec le trompettiste Don Cherry, le saxophoniste Ornette Coleman l’avait invité à participer à son album ‘’Free Jazz.’’ En 1960-1961, Hubbard s’était également joint à Quincy Jones dans le cadre d’une tournée en Europe. Il avait aussi travaillé avec le batteur Max Roach.

En mai 1961, Hubbard avait collaboré avec John Coltrane sur son dernier enregistrement pour Atlantic, intitulé ‘’Olé Coltrane’’. Avec Eric Dolphy et Art Davis, Hubbard avait aussi été invité à participer au premier album de Coltrane pour Impulse, intitulé ‘’Africa-Brass.’’ En août 1961, Hubbard avait enregistré ‘’Ready for Freddy’’, sa première collaboration avec le saxophoniste Wayne Shorter, qui est considéré comme un des sommets de sa carrière. À la fin de la même année, Hubbard était devenu un partenaire régulier de Shorter lorsqu’il avait remplacé Lee Morgan avec les Jazz Messengers d’Art Blakey. Hubbard avait enregistré plus de dix albums live et en studio avec Blakey durant la période la plus productive du groupe. Les années 1960 avaient aussi été une période faste pour Hubbard, qui avait enregistré huit albums comme leader pour Blue Note, et plus d’une vingtaine comme membre d’autres formations. Hubbard était demeuré avec Blakey jusqu’en 1966, alors qu’il avait décidé de former l’un des nombreux petits groupes sous son nom. Faisaient également partie de la formation son ancien associé de Blue Note, James Spaulding, le pianiste Kenny Barron et le batteur Louis Hayes. Le groupe avait enregistré avec Atlantic.

C’est à cette époque que Hubbard avait commencé à se libérer des influences de Clifford  Brown et de Lee Morgan et à développer son propre son. Il avait aussi remporté le prix du meilleur trompettiste de jazz décerné par le magazine DownBeat.

Pendant les années 1960, Hubbard avait aussi participé comme accompagnateur aux plus importants albums de l’époque, dont ‘’The Blues and Abstract Truth’’ d’Oliver Nelson, ‘’Out of Lunch!’’ d’Eric Dolphy, ‘’Maiden Voyage’’ d’Herbie Hancock, et ‘’Speak No Evil’’ de Wayne Shorter. Même s’il n’avait pas ouvertement adopté le free jazz, Hubbard avait participé à deux de ses albums-phares : ‘’Free Jazz’’ d’Ornette Coleman et ‘’Ascension’’ de John Coltrane, en plus de collaborer à l’enregistrement d’une des compositions les plus avant-gardistes de Sonny Rollins, intitulée ‘’East Broadway Run Down’’ (tirée de l’album du même nom), avec Elvin Jones et Jimmy Garrison, deux membres du célèbre quartet de John Coltrane.

‘’I don’t know how I met all these people’’, avait plus tard expliqué Hubbard. ‘’But a lot of them came to get me, too. They sought me out because they saw I wanted to experiment, and during that period, I was changing my style of the trumpet. I was trying to play the trumpet like a saxophone.’’

Le style de Hubbard avait changé après qu’il se soit établi à Hollywood dans les années 1970. En Californie, les trompettistes jouaient un rôle plus effacé et plus discret, et Hubbard avait dû s’adapter. Il racontait : ‘’You know, lifestyle out there is different from mine than in New York. I was in the Hollywood Hills, above the Bowl. I could look at the ocean on this side. I can hear the concerts free at the Bowl. And I had a big swimming pool. I had parties all the time, and the trumpet just was in the corner a lot of the time, when it should have been on my lips.’’

Hubbard avait connu son plus grand succès commercial dans les années 1970 lorsqu’il avait participé à une série d’albums pour la compagnie CTI Records de Creed Taylor, ce qui lui avait permis d’éclipser Stanley Turrentine, Hubert Laws et même George Benson. Même si ses premiers disques des années 1970, ‘’Red Clay’’, ‘’First Light’’ (qui avait remporté un prix Grammy en 1972 comme meilleure performance instrumentale par un artiste de jazz) et ‘’Sky Dive’’ avaient été plutôt bien reçus et étaient considérés comme ses meilleurs, les albums que Hubbard avait enregistrés plus tard (il avait même flirté avec le jazz-fusion en collaborant avec Red Clay dans le cadre de l’enregistrement des albums ‘’Straight Life’’, ‘’Sky Dive’’ et ‘’First Light’’) avaient été critiqués en raison de leur approche trop commerciale. L’album ‘’First Light’’ mettait en vedette les pianistes Herbie Hancock et Richard Wyands, les guitaristes Eric Gale et George Benson, le contrebassiste Ron Carter, le batteur Jack DeJohnette et le percussionniste Airto Moreira. En 1994, Hubbard avait renoué avec la chanteuse et compositrice Catherine Whitney, qui avait également collaboré à l’album ‘’First Light.’’

Après avoir signé avec Columbia, en 1977, Hubbard s’était joint au groupe tout-étoile V.S.O.P., aux côtés d’Herbie Hancock, de Tony Williams, de Ron Carter et de Wayne Shorter. Tous les membres du groupe à l’exception d’Hubbard avaient fait partie du quintet de Miles Davis au milieu des années 1960. Plusieurs des enregistrements en concert du groupe avaient été publiés plus tard. En 1978, Hubbard avait également collaboré à la pièce ‘’Zanzibar’’ du chanteur Billy Joel. La pièce était tirée de l’album ‘’52nd Street’’ qui avait remporté un prix Grammy l’année suivante comme meilleur disque de jazz.

PROBLÈMES DE SANTÉ ET DÉCÈS

Dans les années 1980, Hubbard avait fondé un nouveau groupe, cette fois avec Billy Childs et Larry Klein. Accueilli chaleureusement par la critique, le groupe avait présenté plusieurs concerts aux États-Unis et en Europe, souvent en compagnie du saxophoniste ténor Joe Henderson, avec un répertoire composé de pièces de hard bop et de jazz modal. Hubbard s’était également produit au festival de jazz de Monterey en 1980 et en 1989 (cette fois avec le vibraphoniste Bobby Hutcherson). Avec Woody Shaw, Hubbard avait enregistré deux albums pour Blue Note. Les deux hommes ont aussi joué en concert en duo de 1985 à 1987. Toujours en 1987, Hubbard avait co-dirigé l’enregistrement de l’album ‘’Stardust’’ avec Buddy Golson. L’année suivante, Hubbard avait de nouveau équipe fait avec Art Blakey à l’occasion d’un concert en Hollande, ce qui avait donné lieu à l’enregistrement de l’album ‘’Free the Wind.’’ La même année, Hubbard avait joué des solos de flugelhorn et de trompette sur deux pièces de l’album ‘’Reg Strikes Back’’ d’Elton John. En 1990, Hubbard avait fait une apparition au Japon dans le cadre d’un concert mettant en vedette le batteur Elvin Jones, le saxophoniste Sonny Fortune, les pianistes George Duke et Benny Green, les contrebassistes Ron Carter et Rufus Reid, et la chanteuse Salena Jones. Hubbard a également joué au festival de jazz de Varsovie, dans le cadre d’une performance qui avait été immortalisée sur l’album ‘’Live at the the Warsaw Jazz Festival’’, publié en 1992 par les disques Jazzmen.

Au début des années 1990, Hubbard, qui était déterminé à recommencer à jouer ce qu’il qualifiait de ‘’vrai jazz’’, s’était installé à Philadelphie et avait contribué à l’émergence de nouveaux talents en intégrant à sa nouvelle formation le contrebassiste Christian McBride, le saxophoniste Javon Jackson, le batteur Carl Allen et le pianiste Benny Green. Hubbard a également collaboré avec le New Jazz Composers Octet, avec lequel il avait joué et enregistré un album collectif dirigé par le trompettiste David Weiss.

En dépit de plusieurs problèmes de santé dont une blessure à la lèvre supérieure qui avait dégénéré en infection en 1992, Hubbard avait continué de jouer et d’enregistrer à l’occasion, même s’il n’était plus au sommet de son art comme il l’avait été au début de sa carrière. Découragé, Hubbard s’était mia à boire et avait contracté un ulcère qui avait failli causer sa mort. Hubbard expliquait: ‘’I started drinking Jack Daniel’s to feel good, you know ? Jack Daniel’s and Coca Cola. And I had an ulcer. I went over in London and I fell out. I’ve never passed out, but I lost four pints of blood. And the doctor said, ‘You’re going o clean up your body, because otherwise you’re looking to go.’ So I said, ‘Well, I’m not ready to go, so let me cool out.’’’

Refusant de se laisser abattre, Hubbard avait contribué à garder vivant le flambeau du jazz en contribuant à des cliniques et à des résidences dans de nombreux collèges américains.

Incarnation vivante du hard bop, Hubbard avait remporté plusieurs honneurs au cours de sa carrière. En 2006, la National Endowmnent for the Arts lui avait accordé la plus importante distinction remise à un musicien de jazz aux États-Unis, le NEA Jazz Masters Award. Au début des années 1970, il avait même supplanté Miles Davis dans les sondages organisés afin de désigner le meilleur trompettiste du monde du jazz.  

Freddie Hubbard est mort le 29 décembre 2008 à Sherman Oaks, en Californie, à la suite de complications dues à une attaque cardiaque survenue le 26 novembre précédent. Il était âgé de soixante-dix ans. Peu avant son décès, Hubbard avait enregistré un dernier album intitulé ‘’On the Real Side.’’

À la fin de sa vie, Hubbard avait développé des liens étroits avec la Jazz Foundation of America. Hubbard expliquait: ‘’When I had congestive heart failure and couldn't work, The Jazz Foundation paid my mortgage for several months and saved my home! Thank God for those people." À la fin de sa vie, la Fondation avait d’ailleurs assuré les soins de Hubbard par l’entremise de son fonds d’urgence. Après sa mort, les héritiers du trompettiste avaient demandé que des dons admissibles pour fins d’impôt soient faits en son nom à la Jazz Foundation of America.

Considéré comme un des trompettistes les plus importants et les plus innovateurs du bop, du hard bop et du post-bop, Freddie Hubbard s’était progressivement affranchi de l’influence de géants comme Miles Davis et Clifford Brown qui avaient été ses modèles au début de sa carrière pour forger sa propre personnalité musicale. Au cours de sa longue carrière, Hubbard a enregistré plus de cinquante albums sous son nom en plus de collaborer avec les plus importants artistes de jazz de son époque. Peu après sa mort en 2008, le magazine Down Beat avait qualifié Hubbard de ‘’trompettiste le plus puissant et prolifique’’ de l’histoire du jazz (il avait enregistré plus de 300 albums en tout et pour tout, tant comme leader que comme collaborateur). Le critique de jazz Stanley Crouch  le considérait comme le trompettiste le plus important et le plus original des quarante dernières années. Crouch précisait: ‘’From the moment he played one note, you knew that was Freddie Hubbard. So he had a sound that was distinctive as Miles Davis, as Louis Armstrong, as Clifford Brown. I mean, he’s one of those trumpet players. He’s also an extraordinary powerful player - great stamina, great range. He swung very hard, was a beautiful ballad player and seemed to have very few limitations in terms of getting through material, whether the material was very simple material or very complex material. He was quite a musician.’’

Le trompettiste Wynton Marsalis considérait Hubbard comme une des principales influences. Il expliquait: ‘’All the trumpet players in the ‘70’s, you can hear Freddie Hubbard’s sound and everything worth playing. He’s such a phenomenal trumpet player - just the largeness of his sound, the velocity and the swing.’’

©-2023-2024, tous droits réservés, Les Productions de l’Imaginaire historique

SOURCES :

‘’Freddie Hubbard.’’ Wikipedia, 2022.

‘’Freddie Hubbard, Trumpeter born.’’ National Endowment for the Arts, 2022.

VITALE, Tom. ‘’Freddie Hubbard : A Jazz Icon Remembered.’’ All Things Considered, 11 août 2001,

[beelze-bruh]

Some unmasked scarecrows (modeled after actor Julian Richings) and an edit of his last post with some added fear toxin effects. Designing his look was a bit tough since all I had to start with was the mask design and a couple different faceclaim ideas but I'm happy with it. His outfit was of course inspired by some real life scarecrows I've seen and keeping with the true crime theme of my verse he was very partially inspired by Edward Paisnel (big huge CSA trigger warning if you decide to Google that creep) and with some more black makeup to give him that "dark around the eyes behind the mask" look, which I swear is a theme I won't keep bringing back for all these guys, I promise. Mostly. Even batman won't have it! If I ever get to him.

Oh and I decided my Gotham would be where philly is irl because I just couldn't resist making this guy from pennsyltucky.

[thoughtswordsaction]

Sledges Released New Single "Fading"

Photo by Eden Cvengros From San Diego California Sledges is a four piece Alt-metal/Heavy-shoegaze band that blends genres like grunge, metal, shoegaze, emo/post-hardcore, and alternative to craft songs with catchy hooks and big riffs. The band’s goal is to create emotional/ heavy songs that you can sing along to. Sledges is Philly Gomez (vocals and guitar), Alex Angulo (bass), Julian Romero…

[leckiestrikes]

i haven't forgotten about this btw i'm just. so slow at writing i am sorry here have a snippet

The sun is setting by the time dryland is over, the tall, rectangular windows flooding circulation with orange light. It reminds Babe of a church, sort of, back when he still went to mass. Bill and Toye have yet to stop bickering, somehow managing to maintain enough air in their lungs to keep the argument alive throughout the entire practice. Usually Babe would butt in, injecting his opinion for the sake of talking, but he’s happy to just listen for now, reminiscing in the easy way the two seem to squabble with one another. It reminds him of the way he and Julian used to talk. He isn’t really sure what to say, now, without him. Maybe there never really was anything to say in the first place. 

He stretches his arms over his head, pleased when his spine lets out a series of pops and clicks. 

“That ain’t good for you, you know.” Babe turns his head at the slow, familiar drawl, his eyes meeting a shock of black hair and pale skin. For someone who sounds so southern, Gene certainly doesn’t look the part, which is partially at the fault of Philly’s lack of sunlight. Not that Babe cares too much about that, much too distracted now to think about anything other than his goalie, stretched out languidly and grinning up at him from where he’s sprawled out onto the floor. 

Okay, so not really his goalie, but the two had been dancing around each other since freshman year and Babe is pretty sure that if he were to ask, he and Gene would be more than just friends with benefits. (Not that they were really friends, either. More like two people who made out sometimes in empty locker rooms after practice) 

“Last I checked, you ain’t a doctor.” Babe retorts, trying to school the smile spreading across his face before he turns redder than he knows he already is. Gene extends his leg in a way that momentarily makes Babe’s mouth go dry, before he leans over it and wraps both hands around his foot. He’s wiry, skinny, but soft where it matters, not so much lanky like Babe is. Babe wants to wrap his hands around his upper arms. “And nicknames don’t count.”

i fear 2003 hockey au baberoe is consuming my life

i might be writing a fic about this

[thoughts-meander]

This morning marks a near halfway point in my two-month long break from employment. Familiar feelings of doubt and worry are creeping back in, which is expected after two or three weeks of shining bright. I'm choosing to spend some time reflecting on the enormity of my experience.

In the last month:

a band that I love released a new album on my last day of work and then performed twice near me, which allowed me to connect in Philly and then again in Brooklyn as a brave little solo psychonaut

this blog was able to foster a sense of perspective for me about how far I've come on my journey to healing and sharing my light with the world

several friends expressed that hanging out with me feels like a wellness retreat

old friends (who I may have hurt when I retreated from the world) welcomed me back with open arms, and they cried with me, and let me sing for them

I found myself shaking hands with the mayor of New Hope at his home on the final leg of my quest to find a Buddha statue for Soren

walking into a bar and making friends has become the most natural thing in the world

I brought several people (who don't usually cry) to tears in casual conversation

our annual family trip to Virginia has filled my cup, and I got to share my traditions with my best friends

the 12-year-old family dog got two sunset boat rides in my arms

I played golf for the second time and it was actually fun

the idea of sex and intimacy with other people now feels so exciting and not scary, even after the post-nut clarity

I have been hit on at least four times by strangers, a couple times at dispensaries

I think my ass got bigger

I studied for and (probably) passed the first out of five ARE exams while remaining a cool cucumber

Soren accepted my invitation to listen to Hiatus' new album (even though it has electric guitar and bass)

a kind of pre-grief crisis was thrust upon me, and I processed my big emotions about someday losing my FIL who I love very much

Julian and I have never felt stronger

my body has never felt stronger

my sense of self worth, will to live, and agency in my personhood has never felt stronger

I have proved that I'm a free motherfucker

[mccall-muffin]

Little Kitty - Part 1 // Babe Heffron x Reader

Summary: When Babe was sent to Easy Company, they were stationed in Aldbourne. At home, he had a girl and everything - but just as they are about to jump, she dumps him. Babe doesn't really care cause she wasn't really interesting. But what happens if he meets THE girl.

Warnings: Language, War, Drinking, Fluffy SMUT

A/N: Okay, so this is for my bestie @liebgotts-lovergirl!! Thank you so much for inspiring and encouraging me! Thanks to her, that lovely person, I had an idea for a Babe Heffron (that Cutie-Pie) Story (which we don't have enough of either). Hope you like it, Honey!

July 18, 1944 - Aldbourne, England

"God dammit," Babe grumbles as he lowers the letter he has just received. He lets his gaze slide to the floor and runs the words he read through his head again. "What's up, Babe?" he hears his friend Bill ask. He lifts his gaze again and looks at him before holding up the letter. "I kind of suspected it," he adds, holding out the letter to Bill. The latter reads through it briefly before crumpling it and tossing it away. "Oh, come on... She wasn't the one if she's that fast and loose if you know what I mean." Bill puts a hand on Babe's shoulder and pushes him toward the plane.

They are currently standing on the airfield waiting for the order to board the planes. Of course, Babe received the letter at that exact moment. "Forget about her," Bill adds. As they stand next to their plane, Babe falters. "You've got to be kidding me!" Bill follows his friend's gaze and can't suppress a laugh. Someone has painted a pinup girl on the side of the plane and named it 'Darlin'-Doris' of all things. "Now that's what I call irony," Bill is still laughing, but Babe isn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Okay, listen up!" They suddenly hear Winters call out. "Easy company! Gather around me," he continues to shout. The two Philly boys line up as well. "The mission has been canceled! We're moving back to Aldbourne." Annoyed groans break out among the men. "Fourth fucking time they've canceled this shit!" curses Joe Toye, trudging past Bill and Babe. Bill, however, wears a grin on his face. "Well, there's one benefit to it," he says, patting Babe on the shoulder again. "There's no risk now that you'll be in Doris again." Bill laughs his typical laugh, and Babe can't help grinning, either.

By evening, the company is already back in Aldbourne. Of course, everyone wanted to go to the pub as soon as they returned, including Babe, Johnny Julian, and J.D. Henderson. It's a lot easier for Babe as a replacement since Bill took him in right away, but Johnny and J.D. have yet to prove themselves.

Babe is so not in the mood that night. The letter from Doris is still buzzing around in his head, so he says goodbye to the others relatively early to go home.

So now, Babe strolls through the streets of Aldbourne. He is in no hurry to get home, but he can't stay in the pub either. Then, he stops abruptly when he spots a group of young people across the street. There you stand. So beautiful in your summer dress. The Y/H/C hair was perfectly coiffed, and the make-up was applied just right. Not too much, but not too little, either. Babe can't help but stare at you. He takes a step on the street in your direction as if remote-controlled, but then immediately stops again. 'What am I doing,' he thinks to himself, 'Have you checked her out, Heffron? She is so out of your league. Besides, surrounded by friends.' Babe is still staring at you before he sighs dreamily.

It seems you and your friends are on your way to the pub. Babe has stopped, looks after you, and thinks about going to the pub again to meet you 'by chance.' Uncertainly Babe looks at you again and again and again in the direction where the family lives with whom he is accommodated.

However, something happens to make his decision easier when he looks back at you. A little stray kitten brushes against your legs, and you can't resist kneeling to pet it. The little kitten hops onto the stairs of a store, and you follow it. When it lies down and stretches out its belly to you, you have to smile before you continue petting it. Your friends have already moved on without noticing that you have stopped.

For Babe, it's a sign. He sees himself in his mind's eye, playing with the stray kittens in the streets of South Philly over and over again, bringing them food when they had something to spare themselves.

In his thoughts, Babe didn't even notice that he crossed the street quickly and now stopped two meters away from you. It seems as if you magically attract him. His mouth stays open when you look up, and he looks into your Y/E/C eyes. You smile at the sight of him and turn to face him. "Hello," you say kindly, snapping Babe out of his thoughts. "Can I help you?" you continue to ask, and he scratches the back of his head uncertainly. "I uh..." he stammers. You smirk at his awkwardness and take a step toward him. "Hey, Y/N! You coming?" Your friends shout who have now finally noticed that you've been lagging. "You guys go ahead. I'll be right behind," you call back, then turn back to Babe.

"I uh... I was wondering if you... If I could buy you a drink?" he finally asks. You smile softly at him before biting your lips briefly. "I don't know," you then say. "I was taught that I shouldn't accompany strangers." Amusement resonates in your voice. Babe looks at you for a second before briefly wiping his sweaty hands on his uniform and then holding his hand to you. "Jesus. Sorry about that. I uh. Edward Heffron, but everyone calls me Babe," he says. You laugh out loud and take his hand. "Babe?" you ask, amused, and he shrugs. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N." "Pretty name," Babe says, still shaking your hand until he sees your raised eyebrow and pulls his hand back.

"Sorry," he then stammers. You're making him nervous, something that doesn't usually happen to him so quickly. Babe knows he can be a little awkward sometimes when it comes to women, but most of the time, he put on a mask, and then it kind of worked out.

You eye Babe for a moment. He's very handsome, and you find his awkward, almost scatterbrained manner totally cute as well. "I'd love to have a drink with you," you finally say, and Babe exhales in relief. Then he smiles and holds his arm for you to hook up. You take his arm, and he leads you to the pub.

Outside the door, he opens it for you and lets you enter. "Thank you," you say with a smile. Babe is still smiling broadly at you. Then you both look around for a table. It's pretty crowded, but that doesn't surprise either of you. Since the soldiers have been here, you know they keep crowding the pubs, and Babe was just here.

"Babe? I thought you were leaving..." you both then hear a voice. Babe immediately turns around and spots Johnny right away. "Johnny... Yeah, I made it too," Babe directly interrupts him, and Johnny looks at him in irritation. When Babe barely notices him pointing his head over, Johnny quickly catches on. "Ah, nice," he says, smiling briefly at you. "John Julian," he says and politely sticks his hand out to you. "Y/N Y/L/N," you say back politely as well. "I'll see you later, Babe," Johnny says, giving Babe a quick pat on the shoulder.

When Babe finally spots a free table, he leads you over to it. He pulls your chair back for you to sit down. "What can I get you?" Babe asks you with a smile. "A cider, please." "Coming right up," he says, walking to the bar. You watch him go, smiling. You put a hand to your lip, wondering if it's a smart idea to get involved with an American soldier. On top of that, a soldier who is going off to war and may never return.

When Babe returns, you thank him with a smile. You clink glasses and take a sip. "And you're from here?" Babe asks, and you nod. "Born and raised. Where are you from? Aside from the obvious." Babe smiles. "East Coast, South Philadelphia," he says. You're still talking a little about each other, your families, and your friends when another soldier with a heavy accent sits at your table. "Hey, Heffron, what's up? I thought you were leaving?" he asks as his eyes fall on you. "Oh, who do we have here?" Babe sighs. "Bill, this is Y/N," Babe introduces you. "Y/N, this here is Bill Guarnere. He's from Philly as well." You nod knowingly and smile.

"Doris, who?" Bill whispers in Babe's ear, then grins at him. Doris. She hasn't even crossed Babe's mind since he spotted you.

Bill, Babe, and you sit at the table for a while longer, drinking and talking. You laugh a lot that night. Babe and Bill are a decidedly amusing duo; you must hand it to them. Bill quickly notices that Babe is very fond of you because he catches his friend looking at you repeatedly. And with a very meaningful look.

"Hey, Mick, when will you ask the pretty lady to dance?" Bill then asks and nudges Babe. He looks at his friend, startled at first, but then turns to you. "Um..." he stammers, but you're already standing up. "Come on," you say, taking his hand before dragging him onto the dance floor. He takes your hand in his and begins to lead you. You quickly realize that this is something he is very good at. Babe leads you across the dance floor and twirls you around. Laughing, you let him do it, and whenever he pulls you back against his chest, an exciting feeling spreads through you.

When the song is over, you both applaud, and the band plays something slower. Babe looks you in the eye, and you smile encouragingly at him. So he takes you by the hand again, puts one against the small of your back, and pulls you toward him. Your faces are only inches apart as you slowly move to the rhythm of the music. You look into each other's eyes as you do so. Babe notices his heart starting to beat faster. God, you just knock his socks off.

When this song is over, you sit back down with Bill, who is now in the company of Joe Toye, George Luz, and Buck Compton. Babe introduces you to everyone and then gets you another round.

The evening is winding down, and you notice the alcohol that has flowed today. Slightly tipsy, you let Babe lead you out of the bar. "Can I walk you home?" he asks, and you nod. Again, you hook up with him and point the way.

As the two of you arrive, stumbling slightly at your house, you stop. "Here it is," you say, smiling at him. Babe takes your hands in his and looks at you. "I really had fun tonight," he says. "Me too." "Can I see you again?" You bite your lips for a moment, then smile softly at him. "I'd like that." "That... That's good." For a moment, you both stand there looking at each other.

Then Babe hesitantly leans down to you. You close your eyes and then feel his lips softly on yours.

You both break away from each other and look into each other's eyes again. "Very good," Babe says still, which makes you laugh. "Good night Babe," you say, opening the garden gate in front of your house. "Good night, Y/N. I look forward to seeing you again." "Me too." You wave goodbye to him again before disappearing inside the front door.

Babe can hardly believe it. You let him kiss you. And you want to see him again. He's feeling like the luckiest man in the world right now because you're definitely the most incredible woman in the world. At least if he has his way. Happily, Babe walks home down the street. Bill was right: Doris, who?

You and Babe met a few times after that. You went dancing often and had fun together. You also became very good friends with Bill and quickly realized he was someone to joke around with.

September 13, 1944 - Aldbourne, England

That evening you are back at the pub. After some dancing, Babe plays a round of darts with his people, and you sit at a table with your friends. "I'm going to head home," you say as you realize you're starting to get pretty tired. "What, already?" asks Mary, looking at you in surprise. "Yeah, I'm tired." "Don't forget to say goodbye to your cavalier," Lisa says with a wink, and I nudge her. "Goodbye? Knowing dear Babe, he won't let her go alone anyway," now Mary laughs again. "Can you stop that?" you ask, rolling your eyes in annoyance. "What? It's just the truth." You wave it off with a laugh, then walk over to Babe.

"Hey," he says immediately, kissing you on the cheek. "Hey. I'm heading home," you say, smiling gently at him. "Okay, I'll be ready in a minute. Just one more shot," Babe says directly, and you realize that your friends are right. Babe would never let you go alone. You watch him throw the last dart and then turn back to you. "All right, we're good to go," he says, and you wave goodbye to Bill and Joe. "Bye, Y/N. And behave, Babe!", Bill calls after you.

As you walk along the curb, Babe takes your hand in his. You smile at him from the side, and adrenaline surges through you. He has this effect on you, and you on him.

Arriving at your house, you stop. "Thanks for bringing me home, Babe," you say with a smile before wrapping your arms around his neck and gently kissing him. Babe returns the kiss immediately, pulling you closer to him by your hips. "The last few weeks with you have been the greatest, Y/N," Babe whispers against your lips as you pull away from each other. "You could almost forget why we're here."

You look into his eyes, and a small wave of sadness washes over you. You realize that it could be time for him to leave you any day. That they're going to war. "Do you want to come inside?" you ask then, surprised yourself at your question, but it just came out of your lips. Also slightly surprised, Babe looks at you. You swallow nervously and lower your gaze. "I'd love to," he says, and you look at him again. Then you open the door and let him in. "My parents are visiting my Aunt Bethany in Eddington," you say, turning on the light in the entryway.

Babe looks around for a moment and then smiles back at you before you lead him into the kitchen. "Tea?" you ask, already preparing the pot. "I'd love some," he returns. "We could sit in the garden later if you want. I love that spot," you say as you put on the tea. You startle slightly as Babe hugs you from behind and presses a quick kiss to your neck. "If you love it, then I love it," he whispers, and the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Babe steps away from you again, and you bring the tea, some milk and honey, and two cups outside. Your garden has a small table with two chairs and a small lounge sofa. You sit down, and you pour the tea. "Thanks," Babe says, looking at you again before you sit down next to him. Babe puts an arm around you and pulls you to him. "I already know why you love this spot," he says after a while of silence. You put your head on his shoulder and take a quick look around.

Your parents' garden is large and has many bushes and flowering shrubs. When it's dark outside, you can watch the stars wonderfully.

Babe gently strokes your shoulder and takes your other hand in his. "Y/N... I really enjoy the time with you so much. You are special; I knew that from the first time I saw you on the street. I just had to take you out." The butterflies in your stomach come to life, and you look Babe in the eye. He smiles at you, but then the smile on his face slowly disappears. You frown at him. "What's wrong?" you ask, "Y/N we... We can't forget why I'm here. They could move us any day." You lower your eyes, and Babe puts a hand on your cheek. "I want to see you again, Y/N. When this is all over, I will come back to you!"

Babe leans forward and kisses you. You return the kiss and then look at him. "I know you have to go. I knew that from the beginning when I accepted your invitation. I didn't think you'd mean so much to me in such a short time, but you do, Babe. And when you return, I'll be here waiting for you." Now it's you kissing him. "We should enjoy our time," you whisper against his lips before carefully climbing onto his lap.

Babe's hands are on your hips, and his thumbs trace tender circles on them. You look down at him from above and smile at him. Then you take his face in your hands. "I'm so glad we met, Babe," you whisper before kissing him.

Babe wraps his arms tighter around you and pulls you closer to him. His tongue runs over your lower lip, and you open your mouth. Tenderly your tongues dance with each other, and you stroke gently through Babe's hair. Without breaking the kiss, you begin to undo the top buttons on his shirt. Suddenly, Babe stops and breaks away from you. He looks at you, smiling softly. "Y/N..." he says, then looks to the side. He seems like he doesn't know how he wants to phrase something. "What's wrong?" you inquire, therefore. "I... If we... If we keep doing this..." he says, pointing at both you and himself before looking down between you.

You quickly understand what he's trying to tell you. You stroke his cheek and smile at him. "It's okay," you say then, and he looks up in surprise. You bite your lip before smiling again. "I want it," you say, and your voice is nothing more than a whisper. You've never gone further with a man than making out. But with Babe, you would go further. "Are you sure?" he asks again, and you nod.

Babe puts a hand on your cheek and kisses you passionately. You feel something stirring inside you. This man is driving you crazy. His hands caress your legs and under your dress before pausing just below your butt. Again you start to undo the buttons on his shirt, but then he suddenly lifts you up. You hold your arms around his neck again as Babe carries you inside. "Upstairs, first door on the right," you whisper to him with a laugh, and Babe takes that way.

Once in your room, he sits you down on the bed so you're still sitting on his lap. When you finally have all his buttons undone, you push his shirt over his shoulders. Tenderly you run your fingers over his shoulders and briefly take his dog tags in your hand. You run your finger over the cold metal before looking Babe in the eye again. Then you carefully stand up and take a step back.

Slowly, you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. Babe watches you with his mouth slightly open, and as you let your dress fall over your shoulders to the floor, the corners of his mouth twitch upward. You're wearing an undergarment and bra, along with stockings, including garters. "You're just beautiful," Babe whispers, now standing up as well. He kisses you tenderly and strokes his fingers over your arms and then your side. Again, Babe lifts you up and gently lays you on the bed.

He spreads soft kisses over your neck, cleavage, and stomach. You begin to tremble with excitement. Babe, however, seems to know what he's doing. Without stopping to continue caressing you, he begins to unzip his pants and then takes them off before kissing you again. You run your fingertips under his undershirt, which he still wears, and push it up until he pulls it over his head. You briefly examine his body. You can see he is trained from all the military training, but on the other hand, he is skinny. Wondering, you run your fingers over his chest, which makes Babe chuckle.

Then it's not long before the last of your clothes land on the floor, too. Your breathing quickens, and you become slightly nervous. It's almost time. Your first time. Babe seems to have read your mind because he tenderly strokes your cheek. "Don't worry. I'll be careful, and if I hurt you in any way or you change your mind, you'll say so, okay?" You smile. How can a man be as sweet as he is? You nod and wince slightly when you suddenly feel his hand on your middle.

Babe smiles at you and then kisses you again as he caresses you with one hand. You tear your eyes open. "Jesus," you breathe, and he can't help but laugh briefly. "You're so sweet, you know that?" he asks, then briefly kisses your nose, making you giggle. Then he continues. Something awakens in your lower body, and your breathing quickens. Babe, meanwhile, kisses your neck and collarbone before he starts nibbling on your earlobe. "Babe," you moan then, but immediately slap your hand over your mouth. "It's okay, darling. I like it when you say my name," Babe says, turning his attention back to your neck.

You can't help but make pleasing sounds at his tender and loving actions. When Babe kisses you again, you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you. "Y/N..." he says, amused. "Come on, Babe, I think I know enough to know that's not all there is to it," you speak with a grin, and Babe is surprised at your boldness. He smiles and then places himself between your legs. You feel him at your entrance and look him in the eyes. "I'll be careful, I promise," he repeats his words from earlier. He reaches between the two of you to place himself more precisely before he carefully begins to thrust into you. You feel him. You can't tell yet how to find the sensation, but the further he penetrates, the more he tenses.

Suddenly, you feel a slight pain. "Ah!" you startle, and Babe immediately pauses in his movement. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?" "No, I'm fine," you lie, hoping the pain will disappear. And it does. Babe takes his hand back out from between you and props himself up next to your torso. "You okay?" he asks, and you nod. "Okay." Babe begins to move slightly.

With each movement, the feeling of him inside you becomes more comfortable, if not downright good. Again, your breathing speeds up. The feeling is similar to the one you had earlier, yet it's different. As Babe notices that you seem to be enjoying it, his movements become even faster. You notice that his breathing is also faster and more halting than before. He looks you in the eyes before kissing you passionately again.

After a while of tenderness, Babe props himself off of you again. "Darling, I don't think it'll be much longer," he says, and you nod knowingly at him. Suddenly the muscles on his body tighten, and after a few more thrusts, he gasps before slumping slightly. "Jesus Christ," he says, then looks back at you. He kisses you and then pulls out of you.

Babe is lying on his back, out of breath and sweaty, on your bed. It doesn't take a second, though, and he's got his arms around you and pulling you to him. "That was amazing," he says, and you nod into the crook of his neck. He spreads the blanket over you and then strokes the bare skin on your back. "I meant that, by the way. That what I said. I'll come back to you, Y/N," he says, and you absently draw circles on his chest. "You promise?" you ask, and he gently pushes you away from him to look into your eyes. "I promise you, Y/N. And I promise you something else. When this war is over, I will do everything in my power to marry you." You widen your eyes and open your mouth in surprise. "I love you, Y/N." You immediately begin to smile. Joy, adrenaline, and warmth spreads through you. "I love you too, Babe," you say back and then kiss him stormily.

Babe pulls you back to his chest, and together, lying in each other's arms, you fall asleep.

The following day you are awakened by the sun's rays shining through the window. "Good morning, beautiful," Babe says, kissing you, "Good morning," you say, grinning. "Oh, I could get used to this. Waking up and having the most beautiful woman in the world next to me." You smile and playfully punch him in the shoulder. Then he looks at his watch. "Shit!" he curses, almost rushing out of bed. Quickly, he gets dressed. "Sorry, Y/N. I have to," he says, nearly falling as he tries to put on his pants. You can't help but smirk.

"It's okay," you laugh, standing up and pulling on your robe. "I know you have something to do," you say, straightening his tie. "I love you. Have I told you?" he asks, and you grin before kissing him. "Yeah, but I can't hear it enough." Again you kiss, but then Babe has to leave. "I'll come visit you tonight, beautiful," he calls out as you see him off in your front doorway. Just as he's about to walk out the gate, he looks at you again, turns back, runs up to you, and presses another kiss to your lips. "I love you!" "And I love you," you call after him, and then he's gone.

You smile and grab your lips as you close the door behind you. You can't wait to see him again.

What you don't know, however, is that this afternoon Babe's entire company is being transferred to Upottery, and you won't see him for a long time.

Part 2

[sodascherrycola]

Instagram Intros (Steven Roger’s Kids)

Alexander Joseph Rogers

DOB: August 7th 1936 DOD: June 18th 1959 (23 years old) Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Nicknames: Alex, Al S/O: Nancy Graham Kids: Eric and Allison Best Friend(s): Samuel Davidson and James Barnes Jr. Aesthetic: Very mature for his age, helped his parents with his younger siblings. Reminds many people of James Barnes Sr. when he was young. Very respectful and kind. Sadly was killed in the Vietnam War when he was only 23, leaving behind his young wife and two very young children Eric and Allison.

Sarah Florence Rogers

DOB: May 15th 1940 Age: 83 years old Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Nicknames: Sare S/O: Dennis Rowling Kids: Everett and Wesley Best Friend(s): Margaret Fitzgerald Aesthetic: The sweetest soul you’ll ever know. She was extremely close to her father and thought he was Superman (close enough). Her mother taught her how to cook and clean and do all that she would need to know to be a good housewife, however, she became a Lawyer instead. She was big into feminism in the 1960s. And yes, she burned her bras, and yes, her mother wasn’t happy. Her father was proud though.

Phillip James Rogers

DOB: July 24th 1942 Age: 81 years old Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Nicknames: Phil, Philly, PJ S/O: Kimberly Donaldson Kids: Daniel, Michael, Elise, Julian, and May Best Friend(s): Thomas Barnes, Peter Oswald, and Joseph Williamson Aesthetic: Phillip was his parent’s wild child. Always running crazy down the streets of Brooklyn. His parents often worried about him and when he was 14 years old they got him a job at his Uncle Bucky’s garage. He became obsessed with cars from then on. He even got gifted a red cadillac for his 16th birthday.

John Howard Rogers

DOB: April 16th 1944 Age: 79 years old Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Nicknames: Howie S/O: Maria St.Clair Kids: Ella and Jude Best Friend(s): Chandler Atkins Aesthetic: Howie was a total suck up to his parents (especially his mother) and would always snitch on his older siblings, until he had younger siblings who would snitch on him. His mother always adored him so, he was a very sweet boy to everyone. Never complained about putting a tie on for church or sitting patiently at the dinner tables, always saying his prayers. When he was a teenager he had all the girls, some during the same time, his father had to sit him down and have a talk. That’s when he met Maria and stuck with her.

Robert Nicholas Rogers

DOB: June 12th 1946 Age: 77 years old Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Nicknames: Rob, Robbie S/O: Susan Berry Kids: Marcus, Allen, Louis, and Michelle Best Friend(s): Matthew Barnes and Kenneth Baker Aesthetic: He was the cool kid from the very beginning, quite literally. When he was 3 he fell into a frozen lake and almost died, gave his mama a heart attack. He was obsessed with Elvis Presley and begged him daddy to teach him how to gel his hair like his, and he kept his hair like that until he was well into his twenties. Robbie always would dance in front of the television with Elvis, while his little sister would sit and stare. Grew up to be a singer just like him. Almost cried when he died.

Clara Jo Rogers

DOB: November 5th 1950 Age: 73 years old Hometown: Paterson, New Jersey Nicknames: Clare, CJ S/O: Harry Marx Kids: Russell, Rose, and Shelia Best Friend(s): Russell Barnes and Denise Lewis Aesthetic: Like her older brother, was also obsessed with Elvis. She was in love from the moment she saw him on the Ed Sullivan show in 1956. Her father wasn’t too happy but couldn’t do anything about it. She was always a girly girl which her mother adored. Since Sarah never wanted to do anything with her mama, Clara kindly stepped in. Loved going shopping with her mama at the mall, baking, and playing mom with her little brothers. Thought she was going to marry Elvis, but ended up meeting and falling in love with his roadie, Harry Marx. She met Elvis and freaked out, she was speechless and stuttering over her words.

Scott Ivan Rogers

DOB: December 19th 1951 DOD: December 18th 1969 (18 years old) Hometown: Paterson, New Jersey Nicknames: Scotty S/O: Maryann Mulder Kids: None Best Friend(s): David Barker and Peggy Moore Aesthetic: Scott was the pretty boy in his family. Not so smart but very good-lookin’. Girls were always following him since he was young. When he was 17 he was drafted into the Vietnam War, similar to his older brother he never met. His mother sobbed her eyes, while his father held him, the two crying themselves. They didn’t understand. There was a non-written rule that no two children could be drafted to the same war. It was just unfair. Turns out the president wanted to send Scotty to war to see if the super-serum passed down from his father. When his father found this out he beat himself over it. Never got over it after his death.

Timothy Leonard Rogers

DOB: February 18th 1956 Age: 67 years old Hometown: Paterson, New Jersey Nicknames: Tim, Timmy, and Leo S/O: Valerie Pratt Kids: Georgia, Whitney, Bethany, Ryder, and Ethan Best Friend(s): Jesse Barnes and Rodney Heffer Aesthetic: He was a surprise baby. Wasn’t planned whatsoever and it showed. His parents were getting older and was the glass child of his family. Because of this he was pretty close with his older sister, Clara. She loved him like a mother. She always looked out for him and whenever he got teased or picked on at school, you know damn straight she would hear and deal with it. Many suspensions later and they are still as tight as that.

[alleannaharris]

Today's Black History Month illustration is of Henry Ossawa Tanner (1859-1937), the first Black painter to gain international acclaim for his depiction of landscapes and biblical themes.

Tanner was born in 1859 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He was the first of nine children born to Sarah Elizabeth Miller, a formerly enslaved woman who escaped her enslavers via the Underground Railroad, and Benjamin Tucker Tanner, an African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Bishop.

His middle name comes from the town Osawatomie, Kansas, where the abolitionist John Brown started his anti-slavery campaign.

When Tanner was young, the Tanner family moved to Philadelphia. While in Philly, he attended the Robert Vaux School, one of the few Black schools that offered a liberal arts education. Despite his father objecting, Tanner decided he wanted to become a painter when he was 13. He began his art career in 1876 by painting harbour scenes, landscapes, and animals from the Philadelphia Zoo.

After self-study, in 1880, he enrolled at Philadelphia’s prestigious Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) where he was the only black student. Tanner made many connections among the artists and became a favorite of his teacher Thomas Eakins, one of the most important artists in American art history.

In 1888, Tanner secured a teaching position at Clark University in Atlanta with the help of Joseph C. Hartzell, a bishop from Cincinnati, Ohio. In 1890, Hartzell arranged an exhibition of Tanner’s works in Cincinnati, but when none of the paintings sold, Hartzell purchased Tanner’s entire collection.

The money from Hartzell’s purchase allowed Tanner to travel to Paris in 1891 and enroll at the Academy Julian. During this time, he made Paris home because he felt less affected by prejudice.

His greatest early work depicted Black people and tender moments. His most famous painting, “The Banjo Lesson” where an older man was teaching a young boy how to play the banjo was created while visiting family in Philly in 1893.

By 1894, his paintings were critically admired in the US and in Europe. In 1899, he created one of his most famous works, “Nicodemus Visiting Jesus,” which won PAFA’s Lippincott Prize in 1900. Through the rest of his life, he shifted focus to religious scenes and continued to receive praise and honors for his work.

He was named honorary chevalier of the Order of Legion Honor (France’s most distinguished award) in 1923. In 1927, Tanner was made a full academician of the National Academy of design, becoming the first Black person to receive the distinction.

After Tanner’s death in Paris in 1937, his name recognition declined until 1969 when the Smithsonian in Washington DC exhibited a few of his works. This exhibition was the first major solo exhibition of a Black artist in the United States.

In 1991, the Philadelphia Museum of Art assembled a touring exhibition of his work, sparking a new wave of interest.

Side note: The Tanner House is on 2908 W Diamond St in North Philadelphia (Strawberry Mansion). It gained recognition as a National Historic Landmark in 1976, but it fell into disrepair. They’re still trying to find a long-term non-profit steward, but the temporary local fiduciary is the Preservation Alliance for Greater Philadelphia. To donate to the Tanner House Campaign, reach out to the Preservation Alliance.

I’ll be back on Monday with another illustration and story!

[screamingforyears]

IN A MINUTE: A_NEW_MUSICAL_EXPRESSS… // “HALL OF FAME” is the second single/lead track from @garden_centre_’s forthcoming LP titled ‘Searching For A Stream’ (5/19 @kaninerecords @specialistsubject) & it finds the Brighton-based band inhabiting a hole while sprouting a spritely chaotic slice of ramshackle’d post_punk. @gnawinggg are here w/ “GIMME TINNITUS,” the lead single from their forthcoming LP titled ‘Modern Survival Techniques’ (5/19 @refreshrecs) & it finds the Richmond-based quartet of John Russell, Christian Monroe, Garrett Whitlow & Chris Matz dropping a 3:48 clip of crunchy SlackerRawk. “WEAVE” is the lead single from @lockstepnoise forthcoming debut EP titled ‘Arrival’ (5/19) & it finds the Nashville-based trio of Austin Rolison (vocals/drums) Matt Schumacher (vocals/guitars) & Tanner Ihrie (bass) bringing their quietly loud brand of heavily drowsed NuGaze. “POM” is the closing track on @mtworry’s debut EP titled ‘A Mountain of Fucking Worry’ & it finds the Philly-based quartet of Noah Roth, Rowan Horton, Nick Holdorf & John Galm bringing a sprawled_out bout of dissonantly blissed AltRawk. @superviolet__ are here w/ “BIG SONGBIRDS DON’T CRY,” the latest single from their forthcoming debut LP titled ‘Infinite Spring’ (4/21 @lameorecords) & it finds Steve Ciolek’s Columbus-based project bringing a wordy bout of heartwarming, Emo-tinged & twanged IndieRock. “INDIGO” is the latest single from @sweetdreamsnadine’s forthcoming LP self-titled LP ( 4/14 @dearliferecs) & it finds the Brooklyn-based trio of Nadia Hulett, Carlos Hernandez & Julian Fader bringing some legit McVie vibes across 4+ mins of dreamily warm CosmoPop.

//

TUNES ARE POSTED DOWN BELOW, GO LISTEN, YOU CAN DO IT...

////

[1-800-sharpshootershifty]

Hi! So I'm really bored so I'm going to put the Band of Brothers boys into categories of whether or not I would fight them.

On sight, curb stomp:

Sobel

Norman Dike

Cobb

Evans (don't ask why, I just don't like him)

OH GOD NO THEY ARE BABY:

Shifty (he is truly baby 🥺 he wouldn't harm a fly)

Skinny (his eyeroll would put me in the grave)

Babe (he's from Philly, he definitely could beat me in a fight)

Doc Roe (he would give me a death glare then apologize)

Lip (I wouldn't dare fight Mama Lip™)

Jackson (He is too precious to fight)

Julian (^)

Winters (he would yell at me and then ask if I'm okay)

Webster (I would never fight Shark Boi™)

Welsh (I can't mess up the pretty face for Kitty)

Malarkey (he has been through enough man)

Could kill me with one look:

Johnny (CEO of the look)

Speirs (do I need to explain?)

Bill (Angry Italian™)

Toye (he has brass knuckles mate)

Liebgott (I love him so much but he could kill me)

Would fight as a joke:

George (he would playfully make fun of me and we would joke about it later)

Perconte (He would threaten to fight me but then laugh about it and go back to brushing his teeth)

Talbert (Would act tough but then make a joke about it.)

Skip (this is Skip Muck we are talking about)

[latinboxsports]

@rdr_boxing Weights from Philadelphia. ⚖️ 🔔 Photo Credit / David Algranati 📸thefightphotos.com PHILADELPHIA - Weights for Friday night's RDR Promotions card at the 2300 Arena in Philadelphia. Nahir Albright 133.6 - Jeremy Hill 135.2 (NABA Lightweight title) Muhsin Cason 197.3 - Tristan James 194 Derrick Whitley Jr. 147.6 - Julian Smith 144.8 Ryan Umberger 155.1 - Ryan Schwartzberg 156.3 DuShane Crooks 167.7 - Bernard Thomas 168.8 Steve Galeano 143.1 - Marquis Hawthorne 138.8 Raekwon Butler 138.8 - Diemerci Nzau 144 PROMOTER: RDR Promotions STREAM: BXNGTV.COM 1ST BELL: 6 PM ET @bxng.tv @2300arena #boxing #boxeo #deportes #sports #philly #philadelphia #rdrboxing (at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CRph7pXrOLI/?utm_medium=tumblr

[transaurus]

every time i see a post about the statue that was pushed into the docks I have an ‘oh right that’s his name’ moment and then forget his name immediately. because the name of a slave trader and owner is not information i want stored in my head.

i do remember important names. 

i remember Cherry Groce and Cynthia Jarrett and Leon Patterson and Joy Gardner and Oluwashijibomi Lapite and Brian Douglas and Alton Manning and Christopher Alder and Rocky Bennett and Roger Sylvester and Derek Bennett and Ricky Bishop and Michael Powell and Azelle Rodney and Jean Charles de Menezes and Mark Nunes and Habib Ullah and Sean Rigg and Seni Lewis and Jimmy Mubenga and Smiley Culture and Kingsley Burrell and Demetre Fraser and Mark Duggan and Jacob Michael and Anthony Grainger and Julian Cole and Leon Briggs and Faruk Ali and Aston McLean and Adrian Thompson and Adrian McDonald and Sheku Bayoh and Daniel Adewole and Jermaine Baker and Sarah Reed and Mzee Mohammed Daley and Edson da Costa and Shane Bryant and Darren Cumberbatch and Rashan Charles and Nuno Cardoso and Kevin Clarke and Trevor Smith and Belly Mujinga and Abigaïl Bennett. i remember the names of British POC, ESPECIALLY BLACK PEOPLE, who were killed by a corrupt and racist system.

i remember Mary Seacole and Nanny of the Maroons and Mary Eliza Mahoney and Toussaint Louverture and Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr and Kofoworola Abeni Pratt. i remember the names of people who were wronged, whose legacies are an important part of Black history and global history.

i remember Dr Shirley Jackson and Madam CJ Walker and Lyda D Newman and Marie Van Brittan Brown and Valerie Thomas and Christina Jenkins and Theora Stephens and Lisa Gelobteran and Sarah Boone. i remember the names of Black women whose inventions are an essential part of our lives today, whose names are swept under the rug and hidden by the names of their white male counterparts.

i remember Jupiter Hammon and Wentworth Cheswell and Phillis Wheatley and James Derham and Thomas L Jennings and Alexander Twilight and Macon Allen and Joseph Jenkins Roberts and Charles L Reason and Sarah Jane Woodson Early and Mary Jane Patterson and Dr Rebecca Davis Lee Crumpler and John Willis Menard and Thomas Mundy Peterson and Richard Theodore Greener and Frederick Douglass and Judy W Reed and John R Lynch and Booker T Washington and Butler R Wilson and Lucy Diggs Slowe and Bessie Coleman and Josephine Baker and William Grant Still and James W Ford and William H Hastie and Crystal Bird Fauset and Hattie McDaniel and Bob Howard and Amanda Randolph and Florence LeSueur and Juanita Hall and Ralphe Bunche and Cora Brown and Dorothy Dandridge and Arthur Mitchell and Ruth Carol Taylor and Ruby Bridges and Donyale Luna and Robert Henry Lawrence Jr and Cheryl Browne and Vinnette Justine Carroll and Alan Bell and Teddy Seymour and Barack Obama and Rita Dove and Darnell Martin and Chelsi Smith and Franklin Raines and Venus Williams and Halle Berry and Sophia Danenberg and Karen Bass and Anette Gordon-Reed and Kehinde Wiley and Amy Sherald and Ruth E Carter and so many more. i remember the names of all the Black firsts who are forgotten, whose accomplishments are ignored.

don’t waste brain space on racists. learn from their mistakes, yes. but learn about the Black people they tried to silence for so long. because i can’t think of a better way to spite racists than by remembering the people they tried to make us forget.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Lily Briscoe, Remember?

PART TWENTY-SIX OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, smoking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a visit to a local bar, Ella catches up with Jess and spends a night in Philadelphia.

Twirling her cool water glass around and around on the grimy table, Ella smiled softly when a Strokes song came over the speakers. The bar was some hole-in-the-wall dive a few blocks down from the publishing house, still adorned with St. Patrick’s Day decorations although it was halfway through May. But Ella didn’t mind it. There weren’t rowdy swarms of college students or bachelorette parties. Instead, people in their late twenties sat around in black, square-framed glasses talking in buzzing tones. They had locally-made beer and a small, empty stage with just a stool, where independent artists played on the weekends. The air was salty with fries and early summer excitement. Matthew made conversation with her as Chris and Jess went up to order the drinks. Leaning back against the ripped vinyl booth, Ella listened intently as Matthew, sat across from her in a creaky wooden chair, told her about he and Chris meeting in high school.

“...so, we weren’t in the AV club or anything, but we definitely weren’t on the football team either-”

Chris led the way back to the table with a tray of beers and a hoot of satisfaction, Jess trailing behind his friend and rolling his eyes.

Stopping mid-sentence, Matthew turned to Chris and swiped a drink. Chris sat down beside him and was almost instantly chattering away. Matthew seemed kind, quiet, subdued. A good balance to Chris’s chaotic enthusiasm. Jess slid into the booth beside Ella, shrugging off his suit jacket, flushed in the stuffy air. Their upper arms touched, making her stomach do a flip. Even though it had been years since he lived at Luke’s, Jess still somehow had an aroma of pine.

“So,” Chris began, turning to Ella with a pointed look and a grin, “what do you do, Ella?”

“Oh, um, I’m a waitress.”

“And an artist,” Jess chimed in, taking a sip from his bottle.

Ella rolled her eyes and then shot him a teasing glare. “Not professionally. But I just graduated from Southern Connecticut State last week. Hopefully I won’t be filling sandwich orders my whole life.”

“You graduated already, Doogie?” Jess asked with a pleasant, surprised chuckle.

She shrugged. “Wasn’t too big a deal. I took summer classes and stuff.”

“What’s your major?” Matthew asked.

“Studio art,” she said. “Minor in history, though.”

Jess raised his brows, but said nothing. Apparently she hadn’t gone through only outward changes. He could smell her lavender perfume as he sipped on his cheap, watery beer. It was odd to see her in Keeley’s, a bar he’d frequented since arriving in Philadelphia. The feeling was not quite deja-vu, but his worlds were certainly colliding. In the back of his mind, he wondered where her necklace was, wondered where she was living. It was easy to feel like he knew her, maybe better than anyone, but they hadn’t spoken in so long. She could be married, for all he knew. Scanning her thin hands, he found no engagement or wedding rings. But an uneasiness still sat right under his skin, eager to be resolved.

Crossing his arms, elbows on the table, Chris leaned closer into the conversation. “That’s so cool! Do you have anything lined up? Seems like you should, considering how many people tried to buy your sketches today.”

She scoffed, continuing to turn her glass anxiously. A blush warmed her cheeks, and a nervous smile tugged at her lips as she averted her eyes down to the table. “Sort of. Grad school is where I’m headed now.”

“Really?” Jess chimed in. “Where?”

Clearing her throat, Ella raked a hand through her hair. Though Jess tilted his head at her, she refused to meet his gaze. “It’s funny, actually. I’ve still got some things to work out...but UPenn.”

“No way! That’s right down the road from us!” Chris exclaimed.

Ella’s smile widened marginally, and excitement rose in her chest. “Yeah, it’s weird. I had a few I was choosing between, and Penn reached out and...I only confirmed a couple weeks ago. A few days before I got your invitation in the mail. Since I was coming down here anyway, I scheduled my interview with the Dean for tomorrow.”

“Well, congrats,” Matthew said, raising his bottle.

“Thanks,” she replied, feeling slightly silly as she toasted her water against their beers.

Before another moment had passed, Chris got a page on his beeper. Apparently, the poet who had performed at the open house had left something of his behind and would need to be let in early the next morning. Matthew and Chris began commiserating amongst themselves about the performer, who was apparently less than a joy to work with. Biting on the inside of her cheek, Ella tried to suppress her smile. Too much joy made her nervous. It meant always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d had the odd mixture of anxiety and anticipation brewing in her stomach since opening Jess’s package. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be going to a school five minutes away from where Jess worked. Too perfect. She didn’t trust it.

Beside her, Jess was trying equally hard to hold in his emotions. She would be in Philly. Right down the road. She hadn’t been right down the road from him in what felt like forever. There were still so many unknowns. But he couldn’t help the swell of his heart. What were the chances? Plastering on a smug smirk, a mask to hide his exhilaration at her news, he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So, you’re Philly bound?”

“Seems that way,” she said, nodding.

He hummed in acknowledgement, pausing to gaze at her for a moment. Freckles and Bette Davis eyes and a deep, raspy voice. So different but so familiar. She offered him a tiny smile, caught up in the moment. A swarm of pleasant butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and again, she wished they could kiss. Inside their private world, as they once had been.

“Y’know, I think it was fate,” Jess said, smirk growing. “Us both ending up here.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head slightly. “Not all that idealist bullshit again, Mariano.”

“Hey, not everything changes,” Jess shrugged, taking another sip.

“Guess not,” she said quietly, a fond sparkle in her hazel eyes. “But I’d expect nothing less from a Hemingway fetishist.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Stevie Nicks.”

Instead of retorting, Ella snatched the beer sitting before Jess and took a long sip. Setting it down in front of him again, she winked and then began to hum along to Julian Casablancas’s lyrics.

.   .   .

“I’m serious. I was really planning on just getting a motel,” Ella insisted.

Shushing her, a finger on his lips, Chris shook his head. He stood in the tiny kitchen, rummaging through the rusty fridge for some drunk food. Matthew was tipsy, and had already retreated to his room. Chris, however, had managed to get absolutely wasted. They’d practically dragged him up the stairs in Truncheon to the apartment above, while he babbled loudly, complaining about his boyfriend being out of town for the open house. Now, as Jess and Ella argued about her sleeping in the apartment, he offered slurred interjections and cackles off to the side.

Jess, having only drunk two beers over the course of the day, rolled his eyes at his friend. “Go to bed, man.”

“Make me, Jess,” Chris replied jovially, retrieving a box of fried chicken from behind the half-and-half. Straightening up, he shot them both a smug grin and made for the bedroom he shared with Matthew. “Have fun, kids.”

“Good luck fighting that sweater off your head,” Ella quipped, not able to stop the words before they left her mouth. Chris, for all his exuberance, was wearing deceptively stuffy clothes. A button-up with a patterned sweater over it, khakis.

Again, Chris only laughed. “She’s feisty. Let’s keep her forever.”

Smiling thinly, Ella gave him the finger. He blew her a kiss before entering the dark room and shutting the door loudly behind him. Ella winced slightly. She knew Matthew was probably already asleep in one of the room’s twin beds.

Jess ran a hand down his face, standing amid the cluttered mess of their living room.

Ella turned back to Jess, crossing her arms over her chest as an amused crease formed between her brows. “How’d you end up living with them again?”

“Long story.”

“I would imagine.”

“He’s usually not quite so intolerable, but it’s been a big day,” Jess said apologetically. “And he’s still super pissed his boyfriend had to go outta town for work.”

Ella shrugged. “Hey, no problem. I like them. But, yes, it has been a big day. And I don’t want to keep you up any longer. So, why don’t I just stay at a motel?”

Shaking his head, Jess gestured for her to follow him and led the way to his bedroom. “Yeah, right. It’s past midnight. You can just crash with me. Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Are you sure? At least let me take the couch. I’ve been sleeping on one for two years, anyway.”

“At Lane’s?” Jess asked, switching on the ceiling light as they entered.

Surveying the bedroom, a smile immediately came to Ella’s lips. The living room was an absolute mess, but he’d managed to keep his own room decently clean. In the small space, he had only a queen-sized bed, pushed against the wall with the windows, and a dresser, on top of which his boombox sat. Piles of books and CDs littered the scratched wood floor, mostly in the free corners. A framed poster of Nietzche hung above his bed, and she burst out laughing when she saw it, before she could help herself.

“What?” Jess asked, brows furrowed.

She pointed to the poster, then bit down on her thumb nail to stifle her giggles. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re becoming self-aware.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Already overstaying your welcome, Stevens. The bathroom’s the first door on the left when you walk into the apartment. You can get changed, brush your teeth, whatever.”

Nodding, Ella slipped off her shoes near the door and put down her heavy shoulder bag. It only took a minute of rifling through before she found the pajamas and toothbrush she’d packed for the short trip. Since she was little, she couldn’t fall asleep before brushing her teeth first. Clutching the supplies in her arms, she turned back to Jess. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tossed it down on the bed, was unclasping his watch and setting it down on the dresser. He looked so grown up in the yellowish overhead light, bright against the dark green walls.

“This is really okay with you, Jess?” she asked, sounding shyer than he’d ever heard.

“Yeah,” he replied, flashing her a reassuring smile. “What kind of host would I be otherwise?”

Smiling back, Ella nodded again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As she left the room, Jess let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and ran a hand over his mouth. He thought back to the night she’d let him sleep over, dragged him from the freezing back seat of his old car into her warm bedroom. It was the least he could do. Truly. But anxiety squeezed his insides tightly. He tried to shake it off. Ella herself had said he didn’t need to be nervous. He changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt quickly, running his hands through his neat hair and turning it messy. When she returned, face washed and teeth brushed, he was just flicking on his bedside lamp and pulling back the blue comforter. He recognized the Bowie t-shirt she wore from some vague memory.

“No KISS shirt?” he asked.

She chuckled as she stuffed her dress and toothbrush into her bag near the door. “Oh, I never travel with that. Couldn’t bear for it to get lost.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” Jess said. “You can turn out that switch, if you want.”

Ella turned off the overhead light, left only in the glow of his nightstand lamp. Before the nausea could overtake her, she powered through the shakiness of her hands and came to sit across from him. It didn’t need to be strange. She’d just gotten her best friend back. And they could sleep in the same bed as they had so many times before.

“Since I’m already taking advantage of your hospitality,” she began, eyeing the half-empty pack of Marlboros on the floor by the bed, “could I maybe borrow a cigarette?”

Smirking fondly, Jess nodded, reaching down to grab the pack and the lighter. He lit hers for her as she held it between her lips, and then his own. He cracked open the window and flicked ash out into the May midnight.

“What’s got you smoking?” he asked.

She sighed through her nose in white streams. “My interview with the Dean tomorrow. I mean, I’m already in. And they contacted me because of my portfolio. But, I don’t know. Anything could happen.”

“But it won’t,” Jess said. “It’ll be fine. You’re Lily Briscoe, remember?”

A weak smile crossed her face and she gave an unconvincing nod. Then, she looked back up at him curiously. “What about you? Still smoke as much as you did in high school?”

Jess shook his head. “No. Almost never. But I may have panicked about this whole open house thing last night.”

“Looked like it went great,” she said, tapping ash out the window, sitting cross-legged.

Shrugging, Jess leaned back against the wall behind his bed. “We’ll see what that lady from the paper writes.”

“Who cares what she thinks?” Ella asked.

“People who could spend their money here,” Jess answered, chuckling breathily.

Waving a dismissive hand, Ella took a final drag of her cigarette. She crushed it out on the windowsill, where she saw the small, circular remnants of smokes past, before throwing butt out the window into the dumpster below. “Maybe. Seems like you’ve got a pretty decent underground following already.”

“And you call me the idealist,” he said, shaking his head and tossing out his own cigarette.

She laughed lightly, following Jess’s lead as he closed his window again and got under the covers. Soon, they faced each other with their heads against Jess’s pillows. They smelled like him. After shutting off his lamp, Jess regarded Ella in the dim light. He felt like he’d stepped through a door into a memory or a dream.

“Speaking of Truncheon, tell me about the book,” she said quietly.

“Which book?”

“Your book, Sherlock,” she teased.

He sighed, swallowing dryly. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she replied. “I mean, when did you write it? How did you write it? Did ever end up getting a computer, or-”

“Woah, Stevens,” he interrupted, snickering at her rapid-fire questions. “I started writing it when I was still in Stars Hollow.”

She furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Yeah. That notebook I came back for when I picked up my car? I sort of...started before I left. I took a break in California. But I started taking advantage of the library computers when I got back to New York.”

“So, it really was an On The Road thing.”

“Not quite so ambitious,” he said. “But, once I read that Stephen King book you got me...I just got started.”

“And you never told me?” she asked.

He only shrugged in response.

Ella shook her head slightly, watching him with furrowed brows. “Curiouser and curiouser, Mariano.”

“I wanted to surprise you with it.”

“Well, you did.” She thought she saw a flush rise to his cheeks, but couldn’t quite tell in the low light. Something indecipherable flashed across his eyes as he hesitated. She took the lead instead. “Hey Jess?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Jess rolled his eyes, really blushing now. His face went scarlet, and he uttered a nervous chuckle. “Thanks, Daria.”

“Anytime, James Dean.”

Ignoring the flip of his stomach, Jess let the compliment roll off him like water and faced her earnestly. “Did you say you were still livin’ with Lane?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was just...easier than getting my own place. A smaller chunk of the rent to pay. Especially with how many classes I was taking, and it was right across the street from Luke’s. At some point, we upgraded to a futon, so it was a little easier to sleep.”

Jess snorted. “I’m pretty sure you could fall asleep in the middle of a tornado, get transported to Oz, then back to Kansas, and wouldn’t wake up the whole time.”

“Be that as it may,” she said pointedly, “it was pretty okay. But Lane and Zach are getting married in a couple weeks. It would be time to move out even if it wasn’t for grad school.”

“Lane and Zach?” Jess asked, brows furrowed in surprise. “What about that Dave guy?”

Ella sighed softly. “He went to California for college. Eventually, they broke up. And she was on and off with Zach and...I don’t know. He’s not the worst guy. And I know there’s no talking her out of it, anyway.”

“People are gonna do what they’re gonna do,” Jess agreed, thinking back to his own mother’s last wedding.

“I’ll miss her, though. Without Lane, I would probably still have majored in history. Ended up teaching at Stars Hollow High.”

“No way.”

“I’m not so sure. But just seeing Lane play with the band all the time...she looked so happy. Even though she had no money and her mom was pissed at her. I thought maybe actually trying to do what you love wasn’t such a crazy idea,” she explained, voice husky and tired, but so lively.  

It made Jess smile. “That’s great, Eleanor.”

She shrugged again and cleared her throat, wincing slightly. “Ugh, Jesus. Smoking is never worth it. I don’t think I’ve smoked since...since the last time we saw each other. The morning after you left.”

His face fell. There it was. Finally. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

“For what?” she asked dismissively. The past was past.

“For that night. Everything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, Jess.”

“Luke gave me this stupid self-help book and I read it and we kinda went to the wedding together and I got...mixed up.”

Smiling softly, Ella shifted in her spot to move a little closer to him. “I’m gonna need more details on that self-help book later.”

He uttered a self-conscious scoff.

“But, really Jess, it’s okay. I understand. And...I just...I wasn’t ready,” she said finally, struggling for her words. “After I moved out of my dad’s house...I still needed Lane. And Lorelai. And Luke. I always thought getting away would fix everything. But...I wasn’t ready for you.”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I was ready for you, either.”

Breathing deeply, Ella let the moment pass between them. Forgiveness, maybe? On both sides? She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she knew it made her feel calmer. Maybe ripping old wounds open was worth it if it meant they would finally get the chance to heal.

“I bet you started breaking hearts when you got here though. What with the starry-eyed starving artist thing you’ve got going on,” she said. She knew it was a flimsy attempt at being sly, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask him outright. And he was letting her sleep in his bed. That was a positive sign. But she needed to know for sure.

He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Not really. Turns out, people don’t flock to the guy with nothing but a shitty final draft and a duffel bag to his name.” Then, after a beat of silence, sirens blaring from somewhere off in the distance of the city, he spoke again. “What about you?”

The inquisitive, almost hopeful, tone in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “Nothing extraordinary. A couple dates. Guys. Girls. Never got anything to stick.”

“Hm.” Jess paused, watching Ella watch him.

The sound of the singing crickets mixed strangely with the murmur of the city, even in the early Monday morning hours. Ella tried to remember each detail of the present moment. Lying beside Jess in Philadelphia, preparing to go to grad school, finally out from under the thumbs of her father and Stars Hollow. And in love. She decided on it finally. Nothing had changed. She loved Jess as she had for so long, even if she had never truly realized it. Maybe she had, but was too scared to admit it. She thought back to the day he took her to the Met, riding back home in his car, nothing but the dark, empty highway around them. She’d almost said it then. But she hadn’t. Even then, though, she’d been completely his. All or nothing. Do or die.

Slowly, she brought her hand out from under the covers and placed it on his cheek. She stroked his stubbly skin with her thumb. The boy who’d turned into a man all on his own, who had always been so guarded and so kind. Who gave her a bed when she was drunk and bought her charcoals on Valentine’s Day and took her to museums and wrote books for her and hung her drawings on his wall. Who she had taken to a private movie and driven to the emergency room and kissed as an Interpol song played and brought in from the cold. The give and take which had always been there, making her feel safe. Easy. Home.

Taking a moment to close his eyes, Jess quieted all the thoughts screaming in his head.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too,” he replied, too overwhelmed to say much of anything else. He remembered the night on the bridge when they’d decided to try together. How the nerves had made his stomach churn. But she’d taken his hand in hers. She’d made the first move. And made his whole being feel calm. She had cared for him when he couldn’t care for himself. It made him feel like a teenager again. Her touch. Her voice. Her mind.

He wound his arm around her waist and brought her closer, hugging her tightly. They were silent and comfortable. Eventually, Ella’s breathing deepened and Jess felt her muscles relax, holding her. Outside, he could see the full moon reflecting light against a clear night sky. And he felt so content he could barely shut his eyes for a second, fearful of missing anything.