#New Swift sport Paisley | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

opheliacassiopea · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 2.

TW: typical case briefing, mentions of missing person, a stalker, significant injury, blood, gore and murder / death. This is another reminder that there is an age-gap of 14 years, slight mention of divorce. Case based on 3x06.

Upon the team's arrival at the local police department, you’re met with a slightly older looking man, who introduces himself as Detective Yarbrough. “Welcome to Texas, you must be SSA Aaron Hotchner” he welcomes, shaking Hotch’s hand as he speaks.

As you watch the interaction your thoughts linger on Hotch, he was an incredibly attractive man, it would be pointless to deny it, but then again, you shouldn’t be fantasizing about your boss, especially your newly divorced boss, who’s fourteen years older than you. That being said, it didn’t stop you from time to time.

“That would be correct and let me introduce you to my team, these are Agents Rossi, Prentiss, Jareau, Morgan, Selwyn and Dr Reid”

A mixture of greetings are offered as the detective leads you all toward a makeshift conference room, “I didn’t realise you had a trainee on your team”.

You see Hotch’s brow furrow “I’m sorry, a trainee?” his voice laced with either confusion or annoyance, you can’t quite tell.

“Oh, I thought” he gestures to you, “I just assumed she was a trainee, she doesn’t look like FBI”.

Annoyance, his voice was laced with annoyance, or was it anger? Once again you couldn’t tell. You’d come to expect this assumption from most people, you were only twenty-three and probably looked younger due to your fresh-faced appearance, which was highlighted by your immaculate yet soft makeup, you didn’t bother to cover the three faint diagonal scars on right cheek, and you allowed your curly brown hair to frame your face. Before you even had the chance to reply, Hotch had spoken up.

“I’m not sure why you’re concerning yourself with the appearance of my team, especially since you’ve plainly stated that you’re working off assumptions, detective. Agent Selwyn is an exceptional agent. Lets get set up.”

Along with the rest of the team, you begin to set up the conference room, pinning pictures and case notes to the board, mapping out a timeline of the previous four days and laying out a map of the crime scene. Settling down into a chair to read over the original police report, not realising that it’s just you and Emily, you begin to take notes of anything that could be deemed as important, you’re not ten minutes into working when Emily breaks the silence. “He’s not wrong though Paisley, you don’t look like a typical FBI agent”.

Momentarily, your eyes flick down to your outfit, she’s not wrong, you didn’t look like a typical FBI agent, not with your casual style. Today’s outfit of choice consisted of a forest green camisole top layered over a long sleeved white turtleneck tucked into black mom jeans, along with your trusty pair of black doc martens, which were an everyday essential for you. Another everyday essential of course was your jewelry, a ring with a stone on each finger, each differing from one another in size, shape and colour, along with multiple earrings in each ear, not forgetting the same two necklaces you always wore. Letting out a small laugh, you look over to her, “True, but then again nor do Reid and Garcia” which elicits a laugh from her in return.

Turning your head back to the file in your hand, the rest of the team make their way back into the conference room, shortly followed by Detective Yarbrough, whose face looks tainted with a mixture of anger and panic “There’s another missing person’s poster. Enid White, her roommate called Dallas PD this morning, she didn’t come home after walking her dog last night.”

This causes Hotch to stand up even straighter than before, but Reid is the first to respond to the panicked detective, “So she is missing then”.

“Well he wallpapered around the area of the apartment for two blocks and Dallas PD is still canvassing to gather any additional information, but nothing has come up so far”.

“Outside, that’s different for this unsub. Do you mind if I keep hold of this poster, Detective?” Hotch says tucking the it away, but not before turning to Morgan and Prentiss telling them to visit the first victim’s home and instructing Dave and Reid to walk the disposal site with Detective Yarbrough, whilst JJ deals with the ever growing queue of media questions.

“We’ll regroup in an hour and in the meantime Selwyn and I will visit Enid’s roommate” Hotch announces. Not long into the car journey, you begin to stare out the window, taking in the scenery outside and you’re eventually drawn out of your dazed state by Hotch clearing his throat “Paisley, are you alright? You seem distracted”

“Huh? Yeah I’m fine, just taking in the scenery, I just think it’s a shame that the only time we see these places is when we’re called on cases, y’know? Oh and Hotch, I never got to thank you for what you said to Detective Yarbrough this morning so thankyou”

“Maybe you should take some time off” he suggests with a hint of a smile ghosting his voice “You don’t need to thank me Paisley, I’d do it for anybody on the team”. Of course the team. You scold yourself for hoping that he’d singled you out and you force yourself to push your thoughts aside as you pull up to the apartment. As the two of you get out of the car, you’re met with a mass of reporters and a local detective, Hotch takes the lead and introduces the two of you.

“Agents Hotchner and Selwyn. Did the press run with the story about the mask?”

“What mask?”

“A mask was left at Michelle Colucci’s apartment, and we need to keep that detail out of the press or they’ll have a field day.”

The detective nods and continues “The roommate tells us that Enid walks her dog at the same time each day, taking the same route”

Hotch nods in acknowledgement “Nothing a stalker likes more than a strict routine” you murmur your agreement and take the opportunity to speak up and gesture to the hundreds of posters surrounding the apartment.

“She would have seen this on her walk if it was already up when she went missing. We need to speak with the roommate and find out as much as we can”. You turn to Hotch to continue your train of thought, but you notice he’s already looking at you with a look you can’t quite place and scold yourself for not being able to work it out, some profiler you are Paisley.

Once the team all gathers back at the station, you all begin to swap information about the case and once you’ve finished recounting the relevant bits of information, Morgan pulls you to one side as people break away into smaller conversations.

“Well well well if it;’s not our exceptional SSA Paisley Selwyn” he jokes, making reference to Hotch’s previous comment, which earns him a swift jab to the arm and an eye roll from you, along with a sassy remark.

“Didn’t realise you wanted compliments from Hotch, I thought you got enough from Garcia, Hot Stuff?”

“I get plenty from her, you however, could dish out some more, Pretty Girl” he retorts back to you and you both share a laugh. You were close with the entire team, but you and Morgan held a much closer bond, sharing a love of sports and often being assigned as partners in the field.

Much like earlier on the plane, Hotch draws everybody’s attention back to the case just as Garcia calls through with a new lead “Greetings my loves, I’ve just been running Enid White’s credit cards, turns out one was last used at 9am at a store in Dallas, but unfortunately that’s all I have for now”.

“Thanks Babygirl” Morgan calls out to her and you smile, one of the things that solidified your friendship with Morgan was how appreciative he was toward Garcia as more often than not people overlooked her, making the mistake of thinking she was nothing more than a glorified computer geek. Once again, Hotch starts to distribute orders, telling JJ to phone the store to gain access to the CCTV footage of the store where Enid’s credit card was last used. Not even thirty seconds later, a local officer walks in with the news that there’s an urgent call on the line to which Detective Yarbrough clicks on to.

“This is Enid White, I saw the news report that said the police didn’t believe that other woman when she saw the missing person poster”

The detective shakes his head “That was a mistake Enid, we can help you, where are you?”

There’s no response, Hotch leans closer to the phone “Enid this is Aaron Hotchner of the FBI, we believe you and we’re here to help you. Can you tell us where you are?”

“El Royale Motel, Dallas, please come quickly, he’s going to kill me” she begs, you can hear the sheer panic in her voice as Detective Yarbrough assures her that help will be arriving shortly and hangs up soon after. The ride to the motel is tense, and the team quickly clears the room and are met with the sight of yet another white mask and more posters covering the floor.

“She’s gone and it only took us twenty minutes to get here, I can’t believe we lost her” exclaims Detective Yarbrough looking around the scene, he’s visibly frustrated and you know Hotch can see it too, he shares a look with you and Rossi and you decide to voice what you’re thinking.

“We might not have, he kept Michelle for four days and this coupled with the fact that he left the posters on the floor shows that he left in a rush, almost like he knew we were coming.”

Rossi begins to show his agreement with your statement as Morgan and Prentiss emerge from the motel room “This phone was found under the bed, a Carrollton area code was the last number she dialled” Morgan informs you.

Emily nods along and then continues “So this means he could have been listening in and heard everything she said, he wanted to make sure that the police found the mask”

Hotch’s eyebrows pull together as he looks between the team and the crime scene, knowing what this look means you brace yourself for what’s to come as he utters the very words you knew he would. “Detective Yarbrough, we need you to gather your men and give a profile”.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #fbi #behavioural analysis unit #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron #ssa hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x oc

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mountainsatellite · 5 years ago

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I was tagged in this by @queenbitter

Name: Molly

Nickname: Sometimes, particularly bro-ey people call me Mo and I find that charming.

Zodiac sign: Sigh

Height: Not super tall, but def. tall enough to make a lot of men uncomfortable

What time is it: Procrastinate O’Clock

Favourite musicians: Judah and the Lion, Foo Fighters, Linkin Park (shut up), Brad Paisley, Kacey Musgraves, Miranda Lambert, Panic! At the Disco (I said shut up), Pistol Annies, Taylor Swift, etc

Favourite sports team: You aren’t getting my password that easily

Other blogs: Like, real ones?

Do I get asks? lol, no

How many blogs do I follow: plenty

Lucky numbers: -13.

What am I wearing right now: Ninja turtle fleecey pants and a holey purple t-shirt. I am In For The Night.

Drink of choice: Sparkling water.

Dream car: Whatever Tesla has the longest range on it.

Dream vacation: Eternal vacation so it wouldn’t end and I could see everything I wanted.

Favourite foods: All types of dairy products

Instruments: Piano (mom made me so I could quit Mean Ballet which in retrospect was just Actual Serious Ballet Training but all I wanted was Spin Around For Funsies), then clarinet, saxophone, trumpet. At this point my band teacher told me to stop learning new ones (and also decided to discuss my 15 year old friend’s boobs in front of everyone, threw stuff at us, he was the bully who shoved kids into lockers while telling them to “man up”, etc) so fuck him forever and I picked up bassoon, flute, piccolo and soprano clarinet (which is a clarinet that makes your ears cry even more than a normal clarinet). I haven’t touched an actual instrument in years. But seriously, fuck. him.

Celebrity crush: None, really

Random fact: I can fly anything, but anything I fly goes in circles

Whosoever feels like killing a few minutes can do this too, if they want. :)

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insomniac-arrest · 7 years ago

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Counting her Smiles

genre: original work, wlw ballet romance

words: around 5k

summary: Rebbecca Johnson grows up with the shadow of the driven ballerina Celeste, she doesn’t understand her but she does understand they are drawing closer

under the shadow of bleeding en pointe feet and Minnesota winters, it’s a love story

En Pointe

I don’t know why I was chosen to be the sugar plum fairy instead of Celeste Renoir.

My brother said it was because I was the tallest girl in the class, I said it was because I could almost do a pirouette properly (probably).

He said it was still just because I didn’t need a step stool to do the pas de deux with Roy Calvin. I called him stupid since he was ten and I was twelve and you can call your younger brother stupid at those very close ages.

He retorted that it was dumb of them since they would have to spend half their makeup budget buying concealer for my freckles.

I threw q-tips at him until the floor was littered with a fluffy massacre and we accidentally bothered the cat into leaving, no one did anything to properly stop us.

I asked about being the sugar plum fairy the next day, if it was true, Ms. Smith reinforced that yes, I had been chosen. Celeste didn’t say hi to me that morning.

Celeste Renoir had a very French name and a very French family that came over when she was around nine. I didn’t exactly know what that meant, sure, I understood that other places existed and people lived their lives on television in cities far away from me, but I hadn’t met them. I hadn’t been there.

I had never met anyone outside of the outskirts of St. Cloud Minnesota and most my friends were just cousins of mine by different names. She was French even though Carly Thompson pointed out her mom was Chinese, Tina’s mom snapped at her to not point out things like that.

Paisley, who was named after the plant and her great aunt, said she should be the sugar plum fairy since she was almost already thirteen, French, and had already tried en pointe.

Secretly I agreed with her, but they had already bought the concealer and I was still the tallest girl in the class and could almost do a pirouette, I wasn’t backing out now.

Celeste still didn’t say hi to me and I didn’t say that I felt sick thinking about doing the pique turn in front of two dozen faces who were going to clap at me no matter what. Pity claps were still annoying.

I got ready to begin the performance the week before winter break, half the city was snowed in by that point, but that didn’t dissuade anyone from showing up. They arrived on a snowy Thursday night for a severely watered-down version of the Nutcracker for Ms. Smith’s ‘11-13 year old ballet class.’

I found myself gasping weakly behind the curtains, my legs were already cramping and I didn’t know why I kept thinking about the lights accidentally blinding me.

I think about the spins and going through the motions of the pas de deux I would do with Roy Calvin, even if he was also almost 5’6 and had only a slight gap in his teeth. I didn’t really want to do this.

The 7-11-year olds were almost done with their Lion King ballet performance when I felt a soft tap on my shoulder.

I turn my face slightly and come face to face with the pouting features of Celeste Renoir, she wasn’t smiling. They say she only smiles for performances, but that might have been one of those things my mom calls a ‘mean stage rumor.’

Celeste met my eyes sharply and lifts her chin, “breath.” I nod because there wasn’t really anything else to do, she does a little motion for me to turn around, I turn. “You’re bow is almost undone.” She sounded a little stiff, only faintly ‘foreign’ but still had the air of someone who wasn’t from St. Cloud and maybe had never really been there all along.

She undoes the bow holding my dress up and carefully re-ties it with swift handiwork.

“Thanks,” I stutter as she clenches the knot and pulls down the end of my skirt.

She turns me back around, “no big deal.” She sniffs, “deepen your plie this time.” “Right.” I nod and like her a little bit less but she is sweeping her dark bangs out of her eyes and examines me.

Celeste snaps in front of my face, “and look at me when you get nervous during your solo.” I look back at her and then the corner of the room, I give a weak smile, “so I can see someone doing it right?” I tried to joke, “honestly, Celeste…” She gives a faint smile back, “precisely,” she turns me around to face the stage as the announced the 11-13-year olds. “That and I won’t bullshit you with how you’re doing either.” I inhaled sharply, she just said bullshit in public, I look around frantically for an adult. But she was almost thirteen after all and no one was there.

I smile, a real smile, over my shoulder at her, “does that help?” She pushes me forward, “Sure.” She sniffs, “If you’re bad.”

I turn my face ahead again and roll my eyes at her, “a charmer I see.” I say in the way my dad says to cars that cut him off in traffic.

She snorts and I walk onto the stage to take my position. I look into the spotlight and try to be everything they want me to: tall and like I wasn’t weighed down by a half a drug-stores worth of foundation.

I smile like my underwear wasn’t riding up and only end up looking at Celeste three times when I stumble. She’s smiling at me this time, a steady look in her brown eyes and I know she isn’t bullshitting me, even with that smile. I was good enough for her to grin at me afterward too, so that was something.

———-

I ran into Celeste the next winter.

I was still in ballet but 8th grade was a little more important and I only went through the motions of every plie at that point. To be fair, I took ballet in the first place because my mom had two rules: play an instrument and a do a sport until you’re eighteen. No exceptions.

All five of my siblings had to, it would apparently make us ‘well-rounded’ and ‘developed.’ I played the flute and did ballet because I didn’t like sports that involved running or instruments that were too heavy.

My little brother, Ian, who was only around a year younger than me, said that that was boring and I was going to be just as boring as everyone else. I still got to call him stupid at that point.

I was in intermediate classes but Celeste was rising to the next level entirely, she was welcomed into en pointe with open arms and I watched her at extra-hours doing one spin after the next. She didn’t look like a classic ballerina then, but somewhere toward that. Sweat formed on her forehead and a loose sweatshirt hung over her thick tights. To be fair, she mostly looked like an angry fourteen-year-old.

But weren’t we all, that’s the year I started to clip my nails down to the beds and grind my teeth at night. I was fourteen and trying to be anything else but a pimply caricature of myself, but so was everyone else.

We were young and raw and Minnesota decided to be very Minnesota in the spring that year.

It was spring, spring in the way mob bosses are your ‘friend’ and they were still going to threaten you after you pay your dues.

It hit like a heavyweight wrestler, a pile drive of snow right into the center of town and all the surrounding areas, foot upon foot of person-crushing white.

I watched the snow fall for two days straight, perched beside my window and feeling a little too romantic for someone still in SpongeBob pajama pants and unsuccessfully attempting to feel what someone like Emily Dickens might have felt. I was cutting my nails down to the bed and terribly trying to feel what dead people felt when they looked at the exact same things I did.

My mom always said people are a lot more like you than you think, the same air, the same problems, the same toothache when they ate ice cream too fast. I really wanted to feel what Emily Dickens felt, I’m sure she had answers and something smart to say about the world.

I just sat by my window and tunelessly hummed the rhythm of my next flute recital piece instead of actually practicing.

I went to sleep on a Tuesday night and the whole world was nothing but snow and peeling yourself out of bed with two comforters on in the morning.

I was yawning and rubbing my eyes when I did the time old ritual of huddling in front of the tv to watch the news with my other siblings. The feeling of when a news anchor lady announces your school is canceled is like nothing else in the world. Of course, it was not that day, that morning I found out it was just postponed. I wished I lived in Florida for a moment, I heard a snowflake there meant you didn’t have to go to class for a week.

I complained for at least ten minutes before my mom asked ‘would Jesus complain like this?’ She was smiling when she said it, Jesus was her personal friend as far as I understood, but it was more of a running joke than a serious ‘be a little more holy, Rebecca.’ It was more ‘be a little more quiet dear.’

My mom was like that, she said some things so she wouldn’t have to say other ones in different words.

I didn’t completely understand her, it’s funny, to have an entire mother you’ve known your whole life and still wonder what she was actually thinking. Whether she said MASH was her favorite show because she liked it or because everyone else liked it, whether she liked all that egg salad we ate or actually thought Ian would ever be a minister.

Things like that, but I didn’t understand a lot at that point.

I did shut up for her then, I went to put on my long underwear and boots that lived through Minnesota winters, boots that had been to war my youngest sister joked.

I was trying to finish my earth science homework when my father came barging into the kitchen that morning, ‘choochoo!’ He cries and I sit upright in my chair.

“No!” I cry happily and my father’s eyes were already sparkling.

“You bet your bottom dollar kit-kat.” My father nicknamed all his kids after his favorite candy-bars.

“No, no, it’s my turn!” Ian was almost asleep in his cereal, but bolted upright at the first ‘choo.’

I was already on my feet, “Molly went last time and I already have my coat on!” I did, at that very least, have my coat on.

“This is boy sexism!” My brother called because he was learning words like that on reddit (my parents were trying to limit his access). “Phoebe, Molly, and now you! It’s a boys turn.”

My father shrugged, “next time then tootsie roll.” My father gave a little salute, “she already has her jacket on.”

He groans and I stick my tongue out at him.

My father regularly borrowed a snowplow from our neighbors who didn’t have kids and were old enough to save up for a working snow plow and not be able to use it.

My father was the type of man who enjoyed digging people out of snow banks when storms came a knocking. One of my uncles called it a ‘complex’ but my mom retorted that being snowed in just sometimes makes everyone nicer at some point.

She gave him The Look that said ‘you’re from Florida’ and he didn’t respond out loud.

I ran out the door and take the two snowbanks in stride to jump in the passenger’s seat, I was still shivering in the unheated air but I babbled about getting my learner’s permit soon. I would drive the snowplow one year.

My father chuckled and said I should learn to control a headache first before a vehicle, I got a lot of headaches from the grinding.

I sniffed at him and let him drive.

We passed most of our neighbors who were already digging themselves out, inch by inch, layer by layer, maybe snow really did make you slower and nicer, there was nothing left but to do it. You couldn’t have the fire to be mean.

Or maybe it was a complex.

My father started veering into snow piles to clear the streets and work his way up to the more rural parts near us, we already lived on the outer edges of St. Cloud, so it was pretty far out.

I didn’t suspect I was going to see Celeste that day but I did hear that she lived somewhere romantic, somewhere remote and gothic, that’s what Paisley said.

I was a little taken back when I saw a slate gray box house on top of hill and surrounded by white. I wondered what Emily Dickens would feel about it.

Probably something meaningful, I just felt a little dumbstruck as I saw Celeste Renoir struggling through the slushy white waves. She had a shovel in her hand but she wasn’t using it right, more like wielding it than digging with it.

I rolled down my window and started to wave, “Celeste, Celeste, hey!” My father glanced at me but I was looking at her.

Her eyes flicked up and I grinned, “need a hand?” I ask, she opened her mouth but I was already gesturing my father onward, “the cavalry is here!”

I hoot but Celeste was still stony-faced, maybe she didn’t get the point of winter yet.

My father puts the plow in high gear and I gesture for Celeste to get out of the way.

“Is that one of your little friends?” My father asks and I just shrug.

“Something like that.” I hang my head out the window, “you’ll recognize her soon.” Or at least, he should, Celeste had starred in every ballet since mine.

I blink and watch her struggle backward with her usual cast-iron look that said the snow had arrived to personally offend her. I leap out of the car as soon as we get close enough.

“And here you are,” I cry, “and not even in your ballet shoes,” I see with a huge grin, “bestill my beating heart.”

She gives me another unamused look and tries to trudge closer to me, “Don’t tell anyone.” She says dryly, “it’ll ruin my reputation.”

I chuckle, “I won’t tell anyone even Celeste Renoir gets stuck in the snow too.”

She makes a face at me, “if that’s what I’m known for I think I should move.”

I tilt my head and reach out to take the shovel from her as she creeps closer, “known for what?”

“Not getting stuck in the snow,” she sniffs, “there are better reputations than that.”

I try to grasp the handle, “oh darling,” maybe I said that too sweetly, “you’re known for that time Neddy Johnson wet himself in front of you.”

She snorts and makes a little wicked grin, “you’re next.”

I laugh, “you wish.” I take the shovel from her, “now let me show you how it’s done.” I start digging her out and back toward her house, inch by inch, layer by layer.

“My hero.” She says flatly and I didn’t know why she was like this.

She follows dimly in my footsteps as I plow our way back to her front steps where my dad was already chatting with Mr. Renoir warmly.

“…my wife keeps coming home with these pamphlets about how ballet can mess up your feet, do you guys worry about that too? The misses seems a little out of sorts about it.”

Mr. Renoir just hums, “we let Celeste do what she wants, if she says it’s safe, we let her.”

“Oh my five definitely do what they want too!” My father gives a full-bellied laugh and I felt like I was intruding on them.

Mr. Renoir adjusted his gloves, “ballet is good for them I think.”

My father makes an uncommitted motion, “maybe. We still won’t let Kit-Kat do en pointe- not yet at least.”

“That’s a shame,” Celeste speaks up now and I glance at her, she was giving them a steady look like she was a glamorous 42 year old in a fur coat on in the middle of New York City instead of 14 and standing here.

My father turns to blink at her with the same freckly smile, “Celeste! We were just talking about you girls.” He winks at me.

Celeste was holding someone’s imaginary gaze, “Rebecca could be very good if she advanced to en pointe.”

I raise my eyebrow, “uh, maybe?”

She glances at me and looks me up and down, “you’re tall.” She states and I droop a little.

“So people remind me.”

“And narrow. With good hips.” I don’t look her in the eye when she says that, “you should consider joining me for the night practices.”

I scratch my nose half-heartedly, “I’ll think about it.”

Mr. Renoir looked between the two of us, “I hear school is still starting at eleven love.”

Celeste tosses her hand back like she was sweeping her chin-length hair out of her face, “don’t remind me.”

I laugh a little, “I know the feeling.”

“Why don’t I give you I ride to school little lady Renoir?” My father answers genially and both Renoir’s look at him steadily.

Mr. Renoir nods, “that is very nice of you Mr. Johnson.”

He just puts his hands out, “I’m happy to help.” He shakes the snow off his pants, “Kit-kat’s friends are always welcome.”

Celeste raised a fine eyebrow up at me and I wish at least my father wasn’t calling me a candy bar at that specific moment.

Celeste goes back in to get her school bag and I kick a couple ice clumps out of the way as my father makes small talk with the French businessman. Her dad ran a small Home Goods store and Celeste’s mom taught at the university.

I open the door for Celeste the second she comes out, she gives me the same almost-smile as the night of the Nutcracker dance. The one where I stumbled and caught her eye like she wasn’t going to lie to me.

It was a strange feeling when you knew someone in the way you don’t know them.

I hopped into the bucket seat and let Celeste have the window.

My father tunes us out like he wasn’t there and let me talk to her freely.

Celeste talks in statements, “I can’t believe we have school today.” She said with a piercing gaze, “the world could end and the Minnesota school system would still make me leave my house.” She cursed and my father turned the radio up.

I laughed, I loved when she cursed, “that’s a pretty accurate picture. But you sound like staying in your house would keep you alive when the apocalypse zombies come.”

She rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest, “obviously I would boil water and wait for the zombies to all freeze up here.”

“What about ice zombies?” I joke, “A costco would work better.” That was something I read online.

“A what?” She was looking at me like she wasn’t a 42 year old in a fur coat in New York City.

I give a little laugh and tell her about the Costco Zombie Theory and we discuss silly plans and bad plots in The Walking Dead, it’s not the worst moment I’ve had with the Mean Girl Ballet Queen.

In fact, I think I got another smile this time.

———

Celeste Renoir started to sarcastically call me her hero after I came for her in the snow drift that winter and I sarcastically turned a fine shade of red back. I wasn’t very good at sarcasm.

I was fifteen and we were starting high school like we wanted to spring to stardom or wall street or the white house, kids had a lot of dreams right then.

Eventually that year, I just wanted to sleep and stop biting my nails to the nub.

Emily Dickens might have thought something beautiful about this too, but I wasn’t very good at beauty, Tina said that’s why I would never get a date to Homecoming Dance.

That was true. My brother had stopped going on reddit and said it was just because they were cowards who couldn’t hit 6’1 yet.

I didn’t really care, I told myself I should care, I also told myself I shouldn’t.

I started to do after-hours practices with Celeste, not because I was crazy about it and not because I was very good, but because it was there and I might as well. Ian called me boring again for that.

Celeste was working in the same way clockwork does: it just keeps ticking, not how ballerina’s in shows did, but with sweat down her back and abs forming under her leotards. She was lithe muscle and perhaps something in her that ticked harder than any clock.

I watched with my mouth dry and I taking too many water breaks. I started to feel guilty.

She spins in circles and I try to keep up with her on Ms. Smith’s word, she says I’m a natural, but I just feel clumsy and like I want to stop wearing eye makeup.

Celeste started teaching me just as much as Ms. Smith did, she told me to squeeze my core and straighten my spine, she took my leg and positioned it in the perfect pique passe. She puts her hands on my belly and back and has me do breathing exercises.

She holds my arms up, she curves my foot more precisely and lifts my inner thigh higher and higher until I feel like I could kick the sky. But was starting to feel really guilty.

It was the middle of the week on an almost-summer day and on the brink of becoming sophomores.

Celeste and I were sitting on the benches and Ms. Smith had gone onto her other classes that day, we regularly practiced alone by that point.

I looked at Celeste, I watch her peel her ballet shoes off her curved feet and massage the inner sole, I give a deep sigh, “does Ms. Smith know you’re bleeding?” I ask softly as I see the deep red wet across her toes.

Celeste’s eyes flash up, “I’m sure she knows enough.”

I look dimly forward, “you should take some time off. Or maybe…she’ll do something.”

Celeste gave a grave smile, “I’m sure she’s been pretending to ignore it for awhile now.”

I glare, “what, do you hate yourself or something? Your bruises look like they have bruises.”

She swished her dark hair back and I think of a Teen Vogue magazine, “everyone hates themselves a little bit ‘becca.”

I roll my eyes dramatically, “That’s stupid. Do your parents know you’re this much of a teenager?” My mom always said teenagers were like that, but maybe Ian would say it was the French in her. He wanted to study international relations instead of be a minister now, I wanted to eat more pudding in bed.

She exhales softly, “I do it because I can.”

I fold at the knee and meet her on the floor, “here.” I reach out to take the long ace bandage from her cracked-knuckle hands, “I’m sure I can get it tighter than you.”

She arches her eyebrows, “my hero.”

She always said it like she was cracking-wise but I take the bandage from her hand and delicately brush against her callused and bloody feet.

“No one wins by breaking their big toe Celeste,” I finally say and she gives me another bored stare.

“They don’t win by barely trying either.” She brushes her hand across my cheek, like a caress.

“Until what?” I skim my knuckles across the deep calluses on the meat of her foot.

“Until I get there,” she grabs my cheek again, but I don’t look up from her bleeding toes, “my parents had nothing, they went to the same university on scholarships and night shifts. I’m not going to come crashing done after they climbed all the way up. That’s not what you do.” She spits the words, “You make something of yourself.”

There was something lovely about the way she forms those words, but I don’t know how to tell her I saw something lovely in her. Not at a time like this. I say nothing at all and she lets my face go.

“Not that you know,” she tilts her head and I am finally looking up, “your family has been here for ages, unmoving I suppose.”

My eyes are wide, her eyes are smokey, I felt the guilt. “Be careful.” I finally say, “I just want you to be careful.”

She sticks out her bleeding foot and I finish bandaging the right one, she finally leans down, “careful of what,” she frowns, “you?”

I blow air out of my nose, “It is a pity that doing one’s best does not always answer.” I clear my throat, “Said by Jane Eyre.”

“Jane Eyre.” She lifts her left foot for me to touch her.

“Yes,” I wrap my hand around her ankle and smile weakly, “I’m not such a country bumpkin as you might assume, Jane Eyre might have a thing or so to say about this.”

Celeste snickers, “maybe I should be careful of you first and foremost.”

I shake my head and keep wrapping, “I’m thinking of joining basketball.” I watch her face.

Her eyes go wide ever so slightly, “why?”

“The same reason I joined ballet,” I say flatly and she chuckles.

“Because you’re silly and tall?”

I run my hand down the spine of her foot, “precisely.”

She gives an extravagant sigh, “I suppose it can’t be helped if that’s how you feel.”

I tuck the end of the bandage in, “I’ll still come to all the performances. Heck, I’ll even come here after school.” As long as she didn’t touch my chest and run her hands down my back again.

She gave me an even look, “you don’t have to.”

I stood up and dust myself off, “oh, but I will.”

She shook her head and leaned back on one of the mirrors, “I guess you don’t have better things to do. But I don’t expect heroism after this.”

I sit down next to her again, “no promises.”

She smiles anyway.

———-

It turns out I was much better at basketball than I was ballet, I didn’t like the running part but I had a promise with my mom and I had to do something.

I was seventeen and this was my last year having to do anything, I quit the flute by sheer force of will but let senior year rile me into a basketball frenzy.

We could win some sort of Minnesota championships if I just kept watching the ball swish down into the bottomlessness pit of the net. That’s what it felt like, that I could just keep falling down with it.

They said I was a natural.

The year felt like a blur, I was taking the SAT one moment, and then applying to colleges the next and then I was facing the death knell of childhood.

I was still seventeen and people were asking why I hadn’t been asked to one dance thus far. Some of the boys had finally passed my 6’3 after all.

I didn’t know what to tell them and I kept shooting baskets instead.

The champions would be held in St Cloud that year, the school buzzed about it and people gave me high fives when I passed their classrooms. I didn’t really understand it, but the finals were when I saw Celeste properly again that year.

Celeste was applying for dance schools that year and distracted by her own bleeding feet and multiple requests from people to go to prom with them. We had grown closer.

We texted every night, I sent her silly pictures of dogs and quotes from Virginia Woolf. She sent me Kitchen Nightmare gifs and ghost stories she found online. She liked ghost stories but not in the way that scared her, but the way it seemed to scare other people.

That sounded dumb too but Celeste was more flare than she was sincerity, I could appreciate her silly selfies she sent me from her dance studio at 11 at night though. She always did smile widely at the end of any practice, like she had figured something out no one else had.

I sent her basketballs with faces drawn on them in lieu of selfies back.

I was playing in the championships and I texted Celeste every night, it was my senior year. However, I was not prepared for her to show up at my last game itself- especially not prepared for her to show up in the wrong cheerleading outfit and yell weird phrases at me whenever I got the ball.

“Becca is the green tea!” She yelled, “stronger than you!”

I laughed and had to wipe my palm down before I took the shot.

“Becca is the gal for you and me, her arms are concrete!” They were silly and I almost suspected she was drunk by the end of the night.

I was breathing heavily by the fourth quarter and I could barely keep myself from taking a water break every five minutes, but maybe that was something else.

I pass the ball to Diana at the last moment, I don’t mind when she makes the winning shot and the game is over in minutes, in seconds. The bell buzzes and that’s an adrenaline rush onto itself.

The moment is sweeter than ripe oranges and I can hear yelling and hands ruffling my hair and hugging me on all sides. We cheer until some of my teammates’ lungs give out.

I only take a break from yelling wordlessly when I saw a small figure in the bleachers who was flashing down a smug grin.

I shake my head and untangle myself from my teammates embrace to go jog over to the steps, she walks slowly over to me too.

I prop my chin up and can’t stop smiling, “you came!”

She looks up at me with ease, “well, you’ve come to all of mine.”

I snicker and look her up and down, “what’s with the outfit? Those aren’t even the right colors.” I comment on the strange cheerleader outfit with orange trims and just a pompom picture on the front.

She puts her hands on her hips, “at least it wasn’t the other team’s colors. I honestly bought the first thing on the rack.”

I run a hand through my hair, “it’s the thought that counts.” I go to hug her and she goes to push me away.

“You’re sweaty!”

I circle my arms around her without actually touching, “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

She sighs into my collarbone and accepts her fate, a give her a proper hug, “losing to you as the Sugar Plum Fairy is the tragedy of my life you know.”

I chuckle back, “We can’t all be winners of course.”

She takes my cheeks in her hand and I pause as she looks me in the eye, “true.” She lifts herself up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. “Congratulations.”

My mouth falls open and I stand there a little dumbstruck, “what was that for?”

“For winning, duh, and,” she looks over my shoulder at some of our classmates, “they should know.”

I tilt my head to the side and she grabs my wrist, I nod blankly, “okay.”

“Do you want to come over to my house later?”

I can’t say no to that and nod again.

Celeste Renoir lived at the top of a spooky hill that Edgar Allen Poe might approve of if I could actually feel the feelings of dead people.

I was still working on that.

Celeste led me up to her house in her little orange skirt that looked still too cold for the Minnesota spring. I look at the back of her head and feel a little younger, I study her sleek black hair and smile to myself, she had kissed me on the cheek.

Celeste led me up to her room and I sit down on her window seat with the slim light of a distant moon behind me.

I squint at her through the dark but don’t ask to turn the light on.

She settles herself across from me in an old wooden chair and I swear she’s smiling again, “this is the point I would offer you a drink or a cigarette, but we’re both athletes so I guess we’ll pass.”

I snort, “drinking? Smoking?” I shake my head, “What would my mom say.”

She kicks me gently, “I lost the Sugar Plum Fairy part to a square.”

I laugh, “would you have it any other way?”

She twirls her hair, “ideally I would have won it and you would swoon at me.”

I lean back to lie against the window, “you think 12 year old me was capable of swooning? I was barely capable of using a camcorder unsupervised.”

She crept forward slowly from her chair and took the cushion seat next to me, “well, that’s no fair then.”

I leaned my forehead on the window now, “swooning is for other people Princess.” I say evenly, she had recently been the Swan Princess in a production. “I’m more of the hero type, ya know?”

She lets out a large sigh, “I’ve heard.” Her eyes go soft and doughy, I fidget, had she seen through me? Was she going to call me out?

“It is awfully boring at the studio without you though,” she smooths her own skirt out.

“No fun without watching someone watching you become a star?” I joke and want to push her hair back behind her ear. “Don’t worry,” I finally say, “I’ll still be watching.”

She wets her lips and I can’t read the expression on her face. “I see…”

“I’ll even wrap your feet for you,” I say softly, too softly. “When you do that silly thing where you try and dance yourself into a movie explosion.”

She looks up to ceiling with a deep sigh, “you are ridiculous.”

I give a half smile and look down at my lap, “I have to do something to be less boring.”

Celeste looks surprised at me for the first time it felt like, her pretty eyes going wide, “boring?”

“Boring.” I confirm, still trying to joke.

“You somehow think you’re boring?”

I look the other direction and don’t know what to say to that, I put the nubs of my fingers down. I had stopped biting them every single hour, but daily was still pretty bad.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say lamely, “people like you always have…things. I’m sure you have enough passion for a whole city.” I shrug, “I just don’t.”

She leans forward and practically forces my chin up, “you really think you’re boring?”

I shrug, “what else could it be? Besides tall and covered in freckles.”

She gives a sly smile, “but you see, I’ve always been interested in those freckles.” I make a face at her, something mis-computed in my brain as if I tried to process it on a 1998 Dell. “You could even say I was the one at least swooning a little.”

I raise my eyebrows and try to wipe the sweat off my palms, my face is flushed and downturned, “you don’t have to…you know.”

She takes my hand gently and her eyes are wide, a little frightened, she hovers closer to me like an unsure star caught in orbit.

“I-I,” She was gaping and struggling with something like English words or an unclear pasta recipe. “I’m not.” She finally says and her face is inches from mine but tired. I hold her gaze a little like I’m looking for something, I concede.

We’re both very tired.

“Alright darling.” I reached for the back her head and draw her into a heady flashing kiss.

As slow as galaxies merging and an eleven year old slipping their feet on en pointe slippers, slow and rough and inevitable. I kiss her with a breath-catching hitch and lean her head back until everything is dizzy and glowing.

The unnamable guilt melts away for a moment, something soft and anonymous lies underneath.

She kisses me timidly, like she didn’t know what to do with herself or any limb she had honed into a perfect machine over all these years. She grabs my ponytail and drags me down anyway.

It tastes a little like the first snowfall and sparklers in July.

We kiss until all the breath is sucked out of me and every thought I ever had is but a memory, I kiss her because I can. Who knew.

We only pull away when we’re both panting and flushed.

She is smiling, truly wonderfully smiling until the dimples break across her cheeks and her eyes look like they might be watering. It was like I was waiting a lifetime for it, and she smiles once more, the dawn breaking and I could kiss her again, and again.

#wlw #sapphic #original writing #original story #gay ballerinas #I usually lose followers when I post these so please bare with me

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mrjeremydylan · 7 years ago

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My Favorite Album #217 - Julian Velard on Billy Joel ‘Turnstiles’ (1976)

Quintessentially New York singer-songwriter Julian Velard joins me for a celebration/defense of fellow piano man Billy Joel, and his classic 1976 album 'Turnstiles'.

We tell the story of how Turnstiles was Joel's return to New York, the building of his classic band, and his celebration of the city - from modern day standard 'New York State of Mind' to album closer, the apocalyptic 'Miami 2017 (Seen the Lights Go Out on Broadway)'. Julian compares the perceptions of Joel in the UK to the US, how he has become like a NYC sports franchise, whether it's a good or bad thing that he hasn't released in a new album in decades and how understanding Billy Joel as a great mimic helps you appreciate his music.

Listen in the player above or download the episode by clicking here.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts here or in other podcasting apps by searching ‘My Favorite Album’ or copying/pasting our RSS feed -http://myfavoritealbum.libsyn.com/rss

My Favorite Album is a podcast on the impact great music has on our lives. Each episode features a guest on their favorite album of all time - why they love it, their history with the album and how it’s influenced them. Jeremy Dylan is a filmmaker, journalist and photographer from Sydney, Australia who has worked in the music industry since 2007. He directed the the feature music documentary Jim Lauderdale: The King of Broken Hearts (out now!) and the feature film Benjamin Sniddlegrass and the Cauldron of Penguins, in addition to many commercials and music videos.

If you’ve got any feedback or suggestions, drop us a line at [email protected].

LINKS

- Julian Velard on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and iTunes.

- Buy 'Turnstiles’ here.

- Jeremy Dylan’s website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook page.

- Like the podcast on Facebook here.

- If you dig the show, please leave a rating or review of the show on iTunes here.

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Danny Yau, Montaigne, Harts, Joelistics, Rose Elinor Dougall and Burke Reid 74 - Matt Farley (Motern Media) on RAM by Paul McCartney BONUS - Neil Finn on The Beatles, Neil Young, David Bowie and Radiohead 73 - Grace Farriss (Burn Antares) on All Things Must Pass by George Harrison 72 - Katie Noonan on Blue by Joni Mitchell 71 - Harts on Band of Gypsys by Jimi Hendrix 70 - Tim Rogers (You Am I) on Bring the Family by John Hiatt 69 - Mark Seymour (Hunters and Collectors) on The Ghost of Tom Joad by Bruce Springsteen 68 - Jeremy Neale on Graceland by Paul Simon 67 - Joelistics on Graceland by Paul Simon 66 - Brian Nankervis (RocKwiz) on Astral Weeks by Van Morrison 65 - ILUKA on Pastel Blues by Nina Simone 64 - Rose Elinor Dougall on Tender Buttons by Broadcast 63 - Sarah McLeod (The Superjesus) on Siamese Dream by The Smashing Pumpkins 62 - Keyone Starr on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill 61 - Chase Bryant on Defying Gravity by Keith Urban 60 - Brian Koppelman on Southeastern by Jason Isbell 59 - Michael Carpenter on The Beatles White Album Side 4 58 - Pete Kilroy (Hey Geronimo) on The Beatles White Album Side 3 57 - Mark Wells on The Beatles White Album Side 2 56 - Jeff Greenstein on Colossal Youth by Young Marble Giants 55 - Laura Bell Bundy on Shania Twain, Otis Redding and Bright Eyes 54 - Jake Clemons on Surfacing by Sarah McLachlan 53 - Kristian Bush (Sugarland) on The Joshua Tree by U2 52 - Kevin Bennett (The Flood) on Willis Alan Ramsey by Willis Alan Ramsey 51 - Lee Brice on Unorthodox Jukebox by Bruno Mars 50 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on the White Album (Side 1) by The Beatles 49 - Joe Camilleri on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 48 - Russell Morris on The Rolling Stones by The Rolling Stones 47 - Mike Rudd (Spectrum) on England’s Newest Hitmakers by The Rolling Stones 46 - Henry Wagons on Harvest by Neil Young 45 - Megan Washington on Poses by Rufus Wainwright 44 - Andrew Hansen (The Chaser) on Armchair Theatre by Jeff Lynne 43 - She Rex on BlakRoc by The Black Keys 42 - Catherine Britt on Living with Ghosts by Patty Griffin 41 - Robyn Hitchcock on Plastic Ono Band by John Lennon 40 - Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) on Transformer by Lou Reed 39 - Harry Hookey on Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan 38 - Rob Draper on Faith by George Michael 37 - Best of 2014 ft. Danny Yau, Andrew Hansen, Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) and Mike Carr 36 - Doug Pettibone on Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris 35 - Ross Ryan on Late for the Sky by Jackson Browne 34 - Michael Carpenter on Hard Promises by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers 33 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on Jesus of Cool by Nick Lowe 32 - Zane Carney on Smokin’ at the Half Note by Wes Montgomery 31 - Tony Buchen on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles 30 - Simon Relf (The Tambourine Girls) on On the Beach by Neil Young 29 - Peter Cooper on In Search of a Song by Tom T Hall 28 - Thelma Plum on Stolen Apples by Paul Kelly 27 - James House on Rubber Soul by the Beatles 26 - Ella Hooper on Let England Shake by PJ Harvey 25 - Abbey Road Special 24 - Alyssa Bonagura on Room for Squares by John Mayer 23 - Luke Davison (The Preatures) on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 22 - Neil Finn on Hunky Dory by David Bowie and In Rainbows by Radiohead 21 - Neil Finn on Beatles for Sale by the Beatles and After the Goldrush by Neil Young 20 - Morgan Evans on Diorama by Silverchair 19 - Emma Swift on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams 18 - Danny Yau on Hourly Daily by You Am I 17 - J Robert Youngtown and Jon Auer (The Posies) on Hi Fi Way by You Am I 16 - Lester the Fierce on Hounds of Love by Kate Bush 15 - Luke Davison on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 14 - Jeff Cripps on Wheels of Fire by Cream 13 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 2) 12 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 1) 11 - Gossling on O by Damien Rice 10 - Matt Fell on Temple of Low Men by Crowded House 9 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 2) 8 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 1) 7 - Sam Hawksley on A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin 6 - Jim Lauderdale on Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons 5 - Mark Moffatt on Blues Breakers by John Mayall and Eric Clapton 4 - Darren Carr on Ten Easy Pieces by Jimmy Webb 3 - Mark Wells on Revolver by The Beatles 2 - Mike Carr on Arrival by ABBA 1 - Rob Draper on Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan

#podcast #julian velard #billy joel #turnstiles #new york state of mind #miami 2017 #madison square garden

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alwayssummerblog · 6 years ago

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Carrie Underwood & Brad Paisley’s CMA Awards Hosting History

There’s no doubt, the holiday season is in full swing. With the November chill setting in across most of the country, and excitement building for the seasons hallmark holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the New Year and of course, the CMA Awards!

A bona fide country music tradition, officially a decade strong, is the yearly partnership of Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood to host the Country Music Association’s annual award show. As one of the industry’s biggest nights, the hosts are given an immense amount of responsibility, and year after year Underwood and Paisley prove themselves to be just the duo for the job.

The Birth of a Tradition, 41st CMA Awards (2007)

Taking over for Brooks & Dunn, who hosted the ceremonies from 2004 through 2006, after positive reviews of their amplified roles in the production in 2007, they were officially named co-hosts in 2008. This is also the year that the event moved from Madison Square Garden in New York City to the Bridgestone Arena in Nashville, Tennessee. The commercials that ran promotion for the 2007 Awards show a burgeoning career for the future co-hosts that would result in their faces becoming synonymous with the function.

Fun fact, for the second year in a row, co-host Carrie Underwood was the winner of the Female Vocalist of the Year Award, a title she would hold for 3 years straight through 2008. Her co-host took home a few awards in 2006 and 2007 as well, winning album of the year for Time Well Wasted and Musical Event of the Year for “Where I Ge Where I’m Going,” a gorgeous collaboration with icon Dolly Parton, all before taking home more awards in 2007. This year both co-hosts won vocalist of the year in their respective categories, with Underwood taking home Single of the Year for “Before He Cheats” and Paisley took Music Video of the Year for the hilarious accompaniment to “Online.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qiy6NhHY-p0

Made it Official, 42nd CMA Awards (2008)

Coming off raving reviews of their onstage chemistry, strong senses of humor and engaging hosting talents, the two artists were excited to return to the CMA stage in 2008. Both leaders of the genre, the Male and Female Vocalists of the Year at this very award show, fans couldn’t get enough of seeing a different side of their favorite artists. At this point, the value the hosting pair brought to the show was obvious, and the promotions reflect that. One of the more fun initiatives was a Q&A the CMA posted, videos with each host individually that turned out to be an awesome visual time capsule. Combined with that promo video, you’ll find all the 2000’s fashion you’ve been missing. Co-host Paisley received another nod to his music video style, taking home Music Video of the Year for “Waitin’ on a Woman.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1rDuIHcqDo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31Q93ZCcUzc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD7Ab2tOQvE

Second Times the Charm, 43rd CMA Awards (2009)

By the time the awards had finished airing, Underwood and Paisley were as synonymous with CMA as the words country music or award themselves. Having solidified their position as the co-hosts for the foreseeable future, they began to really grow into their roles. In a recap CMT published of the awards that year, the author praised their performance specifically, writing “Brad and Carrie, if I had an awards show, I’d hire you guys to host. I’ve been watching these shows since the ’70s, and nobody did better than you.” With Paisley managing to maintain the title of Male Vocalist of the Year, the two co-hosts had officially each held that respective title for three consecutive years, not bad. His “Start a Band” performance with Keith Urban earned them the Musical Event of the Year Award, his second of the night. And that’s not to mention the jaw-dropping performances each artist pulled off alongside their hosting duties.

Each is too intricate and impressive for words, watch for yourself below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMPmBt0OSuw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAJkSp6aDgc

New Decade, Same Hosts, 44th CMA Awards (2010)

New decade, new title for host Brad Paisley, “promoted” if you will, to Entertainer of the Year at the 2010 Awards, it’s safe to say he was having a great year. Having been nominated five times prior, it was exciting for fans everywhere to see him finally take home the award. Having become close friends from years of show preparation, the hosting duo’s rapport only improved. From hilarious commercials featuring the artists and hosts playing air hockey backstage, practicing lines and a comedic sketch starring a very snobby Paisley enjoying lobster claw, it’s clear to see how much fun they have not only hosting, but promoting the show.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2Xt9A0xnOk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oH3O06jDvKk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWjilDdH8i0

Careful Not to get Comfortable, 45th CMA Awards (2011)

Back again with a truly hilarious comedy sketch intended to promote the show, featuring a number of hilarious characters including Miss Piggy, Minnie and Mickey Mouse, ventriloquists and mimes, they joke they’ve been made by ABC to audition for their hosting jobs. Watch both the final product and some fun behind the scenes footage below. And bonus, ABC World News did an awesome recap of the year’s awards, with really fun footage and a few facts, you can watch in full as well. This was also the year that the co-hosts released their hit duet, “Remind Me.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmzqjCQ-K8U

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqi9gRwqP70

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDywgoixj4A

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qzhngp7jh8

5th Year Anniversary, 46th CMA Awards (2012)

By the 5-year anniversary of the pairs selection as co-hosts, their act had become an event in of itself. Always ones to keep their dialogue relevant, there was even reference to viral sensation of the time “Gangam Style” and both busted out some dance moves to accompany it. In a performance of hit single “Blown Away” that had the crowd literally blown away, Underwood once again proved herself the hostess with the mostest, the most stage presence that is.

https://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/cma-awards-2012-show-highlights/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsnc7kH-eLE

https://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/cma-awards-2012-show-highlights/2/

Keeping the Excitement Alive, 47th CMA Awards (2013)

In a reveal video that features mega group and friends of theirs, Little Big Town, Underwood and Paisley were announced as the hosts for a sixth consecutive year. In an interview with ABC news, the two stars shared their pre-show rituals, and even play a fun game titled “Co-Host Connection” running through some of the best memories they made over their 5 consecutive years as hosts. The entire video is so fun, it’s worth every single one of the six minutes of your time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzcDqJXMJFE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I42TKWUVFHY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txMh-zF5JhM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Me4KBqZ0SqI

Lucky Number 7 Calls for a Throwback, 48th CMA Awards (2014)

One of the most memorable moments in their careers as co-hosts, the show was promoted with a few videos featuring mini versions of Paisley and Underwood, two children dressed to look like their adult counterparts. The promo videos even had a clip of the mini-me’s discussing what they want to be when they grow up—CMA Awards hosts of course! The series of clips including an array of antics in the mini-hosts lives, and they’re all so funny and adorable, definitely worth watching. Another great promotional tool, the trivia game show that friends Little Big Town returned to host.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qOfVtWoo68

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dj6H72MtDbs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiEFgTFF5W4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_y_x_QNzsOg

Awards or Comedy Show? 49th CMA Awards (2015)

With seven years of experience under their belt, Paisley and Underwood returned to the CMA stage, now very comfortable in their co-host duties. Never one to skip a performance, this year Underwood belted her hit single “Smoke Break” brandishing an electric guitar. Now as much an attraction to the program as the awards themselves, Underwood and Paisley had fine-tuned their comedic timing over nearly a decade sharing the role. The commercials are reflective how much value the hosting pair has for the entire operation, check em out below.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHMV_dmsZfk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PpAlePVFlJ8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s40WFH1cqls

Half a Century of Country Music Celebration, 50th CMA Awards (2016)

In celebration of a remarkable fifty years of CMA Award shows, the music community came together for a night of jaw-dropping performances, tributes, and surprise guests. True to form, co-host Underwood performed her hit “Dirty Laundry,” but the true star of the night was not the hosts or the artists this year, it was country music, an honoree the community gladly bowed in their heads in respect to. Stars from across the American musical spectrum teamed up, including Texas natives The Dixie Chicks, and worldwide superstar Beyoncé. Taylor Swift even returned to present the Entertainer of the Year Award!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OmKnKw0l5s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3Ygnx9C5AU

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A Decade of Brad & Carrie, 51st CMA Awards (2017)

Ten years, an entire decade of hosting a nationally televised award show, calls for one big time celebration. However, times of hardship had a hold on the country, and the hosts began the show with a dedication to the victims of the Las Vegas and Sutherland Springs shootings. They did manage to brighten the mood, even sporting those infamous solar eclipse glasses worn during the event that previous August. The seasoned veterans were clearly in their stride, navigating the previous years’ hardship and happiness with mindfulness and a healthy sense of humor.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCVnxY3nBoA

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFQ_HCzkYQA

Coming off an incredible ten straight years of hosting success, fans nationwide are looking forward to the duos eleventh joint CMA performance. Over the years, this event has become a marker in time throughout the year, almost an introduction to the holiday season. Always brave enough to incorporate the latest pop culture sensations into their monologues, and with lots of material having been generated in the country community over the past year, we can’t wait to see what they’ve come up with.

#country #MegaCountry #CMA Awards #brad paisley #Carrie Underwood

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