#both Your Suffering and Bracing for Sunday are such good songs!!

[r1ngfinger]

mr. byers had an unfinished set of songs for y'all in our notes app, i'm passing them along because it doesn't look like he's coming back near front tonight.

his recommendations are: boys in the better land for billy, coffee and cigarettes by nevershoutnever for your jonathan, cannibal queen by miniature tigers for steve, and then two best friends by bb bean but he stopped the note there without saying who that song is for.

i'm gonna recommend to y'all your suffering by the maiden names and bracing for sunday by neko case.

Oh!! We hope he's doing alright, same with the rest of y'all of course! Thank you for sending them on his behalf too though, they're all really good!!

Funnily enough we've actually already listened to Cannibal Queen before, I think that's the first song y'all have recommended us that we already have on one of our playlists! /lighthearted, it's a very good song too ofc

Our recs!:

Black Sun - Death Cab for Cutie (Billy's rec)

Political Scientist - Ryan Adams (Jonathan's rec)

Nine - La Dispute (Steve's recs; both the album version and the Violitionist Sessions version are equally great, both with very different vibes though)

You Lied - Tool (Eddie's rec; also a cover, but we prefer it much more ocer the original lmao)

And! Two more recs since you also gave us two, both from me:

Candy - Joe Mama

New Dance - Deerpeople

Thank you thank you so much !! -Poe

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 8: The Light]

Hi y’all! Thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing. Each and every message/reblog/comment/etc makes me smile, and it’s a dream come true to get to share my work with you! 💜

Chapter summary: John shares a secret; Y/N excels at Scrabble; Brian makes peace; Roger suffers a misstep.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy (not who you think!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

Medicine teaches you to be fiercely skeptical of things that seem too good to be true. Bodies fail—completely and inevitably, though the timing may differ—and patients lie. Medical records don’t, fingerprints don’t, track marks up the underside of an arm don’t, blood and paternity tests don’t, oftentimes the eyes don’t; but given half a chance, people will lie themselves right into the grave.

Those bruises, doc? Got ‘em from a nasty fall down the stairs. I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck!

Nope, never done drugs, not even a joint, I swear on my mother’s life.

I’ll give it up, I’ll go to rehab. Never again. I promise. I don’t want to die.

Doc, I don’t care if the timing doesn’t seem quite right. My husband IS the father. There’s been no one else!

That doting fiancé is flirting with the nurses. Those grown-up children who fluff pillows and dab away tears are asking about the will. That wife is never going to testify against her abusive husband. That addict is going to relapse again...and again...and again. Are there exceptions? Of course. But if you get in the habit of trusting people—of believing all those tantalizingly attractive, hopeful lies—it’ll break your heart six ways to Sunday. There is no perfection in medicine, and there are very rarely miracles.

And so during those first few weeks with Roger—as you watch him from the reeling crowd, from the other side of the tour bus, from across the restaurant table, from the tiny viewfinder of the Canon F-1—you can’t stop searching for the cracks, the shadows, the lies, the dark malignancies breeding beneath the surface. Because everything about Roger Taylor is too good to be true. He’s bright and he’s loud and he’s brilliant and he’s always smiling, always warm. He careens backstage after every show—you keep bracing yourself not to be disappointed when the novelty wears away, when it ends, but it doesn’t—pushing aside roadies and reporters, shouting “Where’s the love of my life? Where’s my Boston babe?” with the most absurd grin you’ve ever seen until he finds you, collides with you, scoops you up and spins you in ungainly circles as your toes skim the floor. Then he cradles your face in his scarred hands and kisses you, breathes you in, tells you everything about the show (even though you were there to see it) in a rush of pure, manic adrenaline. And you stumble into some dressing room together—or a hotel room, or a taxi, or a limousine, or an elevator—and finally it’s your bare thighs his palms are gliding over, your tongue tasting the Heineken and craving on his lips, and it feels impossible for that to ever change. Roger is too good to be true, that’s undeniable; but when you watch him with those doubtful, cautious eyes, you can’t find anything but light.

He wakes up at 6 a.m. to join you on a bayou tour in New Orleans, taps his cigarette over the moss-covered sides of the boat, points out the alligators with leathered skin and ancient yellow irises lurking in the depths. He walks Fremont Street with you in Las Vegas and makes you choose his numbers for the Roulette wheel, for his fate. He snaps photos of you on a sun-drenched balcony in Miami, roaring cobalt waves crashing in the background. He takes you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Art Institute of Chicago, the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Philadelphia Zoo, Myrtle Beach and the Saint Louis Arch and the Santa Monica Pier. Because he was telling the truth when he said he could show you the world all those months ago when Queen was at Top of the Pops; he was telling you the truth about the list that’s etched into the rushing scarlet chambers of his heart.

When the American leg of the tour ends and the band gets a brief reprieve in London, you move into Roger’s paltry, disorganized flat and scrub away all the remnants of his past life: dust and empty cigarette boxes and women’s socks, ashes and copies of Vogue, a tube of lipstick that isn’t yours. You don’t complain, don’t even frown; you’re under no delusions that something eternal can be founded on resentment, on lies. And so you clear out the clutter and open the windows so sunshine and crisp spring air can breathe through the apartment, so you can both start fresh along with the bellflowers and delphiniums and roses and the tawny newborn ducklings scampering behind their mothers. You hang photos from the tour and John’s sketches on the refrigerator, place your Canon F-1 and pink conch shell from Ostia on the nightstand, litter the drawers with your own socks and makeup. You teach Roger how to sew (although he’s not much good at it) and how to treat blisters (although you’ll always be there to do it for him); and in return Roger teaches you how to trust, how to believe, how to stop searching desperately for faults in the light.  

On the second day of April, Queen boards their flight to Tokyo. Brian settles into a plushy, billowing blanket and loses himself in an astronomy magazine; he’s an engaged man now, an honest man in the eyes of society at large...and, far more importantly, his parents. Freddie pens lyrics in his notebook, humming disjointedly, napping like a cat when the mood strikes him. Roger snacks constantly and tries to get John chatting, but John is particularly subdued today, preoccupied, prone to gazing unfocusedly at the clouds that drift by outside and wringing his hands.

And you think, as you peer down into the glistening sapphire waters of the East China Sea: Brian’s a willow tree, Freddie’s a lightning storm, Roger is wildfire...but what is John?

Something deep, something beautiful and strong and constant and hidden.

The ocean, you decide as Queen’s private plane soars over the quicksilver waves that conceal the abyss. John is the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

John is lying on his back under a small grove of cherry blossom trees outside the hotel, sketching grey outlines of petals and arcing branches in a new notebook. He hasn’t given any sign that he heard you coming, doesn’t turn his head to see you. You freeze, startled.

“How’d you know it was me?!”

“You have very distinct footsteps. Dainty, yet purposeful.” He sets aside his notebook and sits up, crossing his long legs. “Why didn’t you go to lunch?”

“Because you didn’t. You turned down ramen, and you never turn down ramen. I was worried. Plus someone has to make sure a roving posse of screaming Japanese girls doesn’t carry you off.”

That makes him laugh. The Japanese fans are inexplicably obsessed with John; or maybe it’s not so inexplicable, maybe they just have a better eye for quiet, unassuming wonders. “Always so thoughtful.”

You sit down beside him, open a pack of chocolate-flavored Pocky and offer John a piece, frown when he lights a cigarette instead. “That’s really bad for you. Seriously. You should quit.”

“At last. One thing you and Brian agree on.” He exhales a gale of smoke and peers up at the cherry blossoms.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t break up with Veronica, did you?” Chrissie and Mary didn’t mention anything about her tearful devastation, and you suspect they would have had John gone through with it.

He sighs. “I did not.”

“And...are we feeling...okay about that...?”

He twirls the cigarette nervously between his fingers. After a silence, he surrenders. “Look, I haven’t told anybody yet, but I’d tell you first anyway. So here it goes.” He glances over at you guiltily, gloomily, wishing he could disappear. “I didn’t break up with Veronica because she’s pregnant.”

Your jaw falls open. A half-eaten stick of Pocky rolls out of your mouth and onto the grass. She’s what? She’s WHAT?

“Please don’t be disappointed,” John pleads. “I’m disappointed in myself enough for both of us, believe me.”

“I...I...I’m not disappointed, John, I’m just...” You blink at him. “Oh my god.”

He nods, acquiescent. “I’m in complete agreement.”

You shake your head, gaping at him, stunned; and suddenly you don’t like what you’re feeling at all. Because it isn’t just shock and horror, it isn’t just apprehension. You hate the thought of him touching her, of her delicate white hands on him, of innocence stripped away and memories impressed into muscle, into soul.

Because you know she’s not right for him. Because you know he doesn’t love her the way he should. Because you want the best for him and always have.

Oh, there’s a comforting rationale; but is it true?

And then: You fucking hypocrite. Since when do you get an opinion on who anyone sleeps with?

“It must have happened in January,” John says miserably. “Right before we left for the States. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone...I guess maybe she thought if she did I’d never come back. So she told me as soon as I landed in London. And here we all are.”

You stare down at your shoes, trying to compose yourself. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s only one option.”

“Actually, there are quite a few. But I know you’d never consider them.” John’s father died when he was ten, and he never talks about it; which is precisely how you know it’s a wound that can’t ever heal, a gash that goes straight down to the bone. He would never leave his child, never banish them to some dusty, repressed corner of his consciousness while he moves on with a blissfully unencumbered life. You whisper: “I’m so fucking sorry, John.”

That snaps something in him, something he was choking back. He buries his face in his hands. “What the fuck am I doing?” he moans. “I’m twenty-three years old, I’m broke, I turned down loads of jobs, good jobs, as an electrical engineer, I’ve somehow become the bassist in an increasingly famous rock band...I mean, how the hell did this happen? How did any of this happen?”

“It’ll be okay,” you insist with newfound resolve. I have to save him. I have to protect him.

John rolls those soft greyish eyes, hopeless, distraught. “Sure.”

“It will be, I promise you. The tour is going great. I had my doubts about the band when I first met you, I’ll admit it, I didn’t know if there was a future for Queen. But you’ve made me a believer. You’ve made millions of people all over the world believers. The money will keep rolling in, Queen will finally start seeing some of it, you won’t be broke forever. You’ll have two more months on the road and then we’ll be back in London, and it’ll be on to recording the next album, more shows, more money...the hard times are almost over, John. You can do this. And I’ll help you.”

His brow furrows. “You will?”

“Of course. If it’s easier for Veronica, it’ll be easier for you. So I’ll be extra friendly, take her to appointments when you’re busy, help organize the wedding, babysit the littlest Deacon whenever she needs me to. We’ll get through this. I’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly. “You and Roger. You aren’t going anywhere.” He’s reading you closely, sifting through your words and forced smile for something deeper.

“I’m happy,” you assure him. “You don’t need to be concerned about that. I’m staying with the band, I’m staying in London. Whenever Queen is home, that is.”

He nods, but perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He finally accepts a piece of Pocky from you and takes a bite. “Then I guess we’ll plan for a summer wedding.”

“You could do a double one with Brian and Chrissie.”

He laughs so hard he almost inhales the Pocky, then doubles over coughing. “I think Bri would rather slit his own throat, but a charming thought. Thank you for that. Bravo.”

You smile at John, genuinely this time. “You’re going to be an amazing father. I hope you aren’t worried about that part of it, at least.”

“Will you be their godparent?”

“What? Me?!”

“Yeah. Because, you know...” John averts his gaze. “You’d be the person I would want to raise them if something happened to me and Veronica. You’re the most dedicated, stubborn, capable, nurturing, remarkable person I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend. And maybe Roger’s your best friend and you’re his, and that’s all fine, that’s alright, but you’re still mine.”

“Roger is a lot of incredible things, but he’s not my best friend.” You lie flat on the grass and lace your hands behind your head, tracking the weightless snowy clouds as they float by above. When did we become adults? When did all of these rules catch up to us? “I would be honored to be your child’s godparent.”

John plops down beside you. “Don’t tell the others yet, okay? I want to wait until the tour’s over. I don’t want them to panic and think I’m leaving and try to replace me or anything.”

“They wouldn’t try to replace you, John.”

“No?” he asks doubtfully.

“No. Roger knows it, Fred knows it, I think even Bri knows it.” You reach out and weave a lock of his hair through your fingers as cherry blossom petals tumble in the breeze. “You’re irreplaceable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Sod,” Freddie mocks. “That’s the best you could do? Really? Sod?”

Roger flings up his hands in frustration. “Freddie, I’ve got like a million Cs!”

“You could have done cod,” Brian notes, sipping a cup of hot tea. “Cods, actually.”

Roger glowers down at his Scrabble tiles. “Fuck.”

“And I’m so delighted he didn’t!” You place your tiles, expanding on sod to make rhapsody. John high-fives you and records the points in his notebook. Freddie and Brian groan in defeat.

“What the hell is a rhapsody?!” Roger snatches the Official Scrabble Dictionary off the table and flips through it.

“It’s a, like a...” Freddie waves his cigarette, scattering smoke through the air. “It’s like an epic poem. Or an opera. With lots of bizarre, different parts all pieced together.”

“That sounds made up.”

Freddie cackles. “Darling, it’s a real thing, I swear!”

Roger locates the pertinent page in the Scrabble Dictionary and his shoulders slump. “Goddammit. Fucking...too smart...nerdy...college-educated...girlfriend.” He drags you into his lap and kisses your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t usually tolerate being conquered like this.”

Bri smirks from behind his teacup. “I rather think you conquered her, Rog.”

“Oh, a rare good one from Bri!” Freddie trills as everyone laughs, although John soon busies himself with clearing empty bottles and cigarette butts off the table.

“Yes,” Roger agrees. “Against her superior judgment, I finally won her over. Only took eight months. Which is approximately...wait, let me count...seven and a half months longer than it has ever taken me before.”

You trace your fingertips across his stubbled cheeks, his soft lips, his little dark blond tufts of sideburns. “No one knows how to say no to you, do they?”

“It’s impossible. I’m too charming. Blindingly heroic. Perseus in the flesh.” He kisses your forehead and steadies you, his hands on your waist, as the brakes squeal and the tour bus lurches to a halt.

Freddie leaps to his feet and claps. “Alright, darlings! Off to the new digs we go. Deaky, hand me my shoes, they’re under the table...yes, right there...and toss over Brian’s hideous clogs as well.”

You help the roadies and the band drag luggage into the hotel (no small feat, as the elevator is out of order), unpack your toothbrush and hairbrush and a floral-patterned dress for dinner, giggle as you listen to Roger’s feral, raspy singing in the shower. It’s something about loving a car, how perfectly on-brand for him. Then Roger goes to fetch Freddie and John for dinner while you find Brian. Bri is collapsed on his bed in a striped t-shirt and jeans, freshly-washed and dewy, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze.

You tap gently on the doorframe. “Bri? You want to join us for dinner? There’s a sushi place a few blocks away that’s a local legend, apparently. Lots of veggie options too.”

He looks over at you. You haven’t spoken about the argument since you had it two months ago. Brian sometimes grimaces or smirks or rolls his willowy viridescent eyes, but he never says anything; not to you, and not to Roger as far as you’re aware. “I’m sorry,” he says simply. “I may have been out of line before. Incorrect, even.”

“No need to apologize, Bri. I’ve forgotten all about it.” You haven’t, but there’s no reason for Brian to know that.

“I just want what’s best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I know, Brian.” You cross the room and take his long, moon-white, artful hands in your own. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be in the wedding party, won’t you? I know Chris will ask.”

“Of course. And I’ll proudly wear whatever dreadfully tacky and uncomfortable bridesmaid dresses she picks out.”

“Even if they’re a frightful shimmery green?”

“Oh god.” You swallow noisily. “I’ll still do it. And then burn the photos.”

Brian chuckles as he climbs out of bed. “In a stroke of luck, I suspect she’ll ask you to take the pictures. So you can avoid being in them as much as you’d like. And conveniently lose the unflattering ones.”

You study him thoughtfully. “Are you happy, Brian?”

“I am. Chrissie’s excited, my parents are thrilled, they’ll be sitting in the front row with the proudest smiles you’ve ever seen. Next comes a proper house, and children, and all the rest of it.” But something in those mellow olivey eyes is resigned, melancholy. His words from two months ago echo in your skull: It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.

“Do you still think about New Orleans?” you ask softly. About the woman he’d fallen in love with there before you ever met Queen, about the utopian passion he never quite stops searching for. Everyone has demons, secrets, shadowy trenches like cracks in porcelain; you’ve learned all about Brian’s. What about Roger’s? What about mine?

He shrugs, staring out the window at the dusky skyline of Yokohama. “Maybe I’ll always think about New Orleans. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to grow up and start taking responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” you reply cynically, before you can stop yourself. “Is that all love is about anymore?”

“Not for you. Not for Roger. You both want your freedom, your adventure, your true and uncomplicated love. And you’ll get to keep it.”

For now. But you don’t say that. Instead, you smile appeasingly and gesture for Brian to follow you out into the hallway.

The others are waiting by the door to the stairwell: John in a smart grey suit, Freddie in his black-and-yellow jacket, Roger in sunglasses and a ridiculous leopard-print vest he’d dug out of a trashcan somewhere and precariously tall boots.

“At last, Nurse Nightingale and my darling Brian!” Freddie chirps. “Come on, I’m positively famished, and also I’ve bet five pounds that I can consume more sake shots than Roger and I could really use the dough.”

Roger pushes through the door, leading the way. “Prepare to lose!”

“Roger, please,” you implore. “New livers don’t grow on trees, and I can’t give you half of mine. I’m the wrong blood type.”

Roger laughs as he bounds down the steps, then whirls to grin up at you as he walks backwards. “Relax, Deaks will share! You’re type A, aren’t you John—?”

Roger’s heel slips and he plummets down the flight of stairs. He tumbles as the four of you shriek in horror and bolt after him, slams into the wall of the landing, ricochets off of it and plunges down the next flight as well. There’s blood, you think frenziedly as you descend, screaming Roger’s name. There’s blood all over the steps.

Roger, crumpled on the maroon-streaked landing, slowly unravels and groans. He glances down, appraises himself, then hammers his left fist against the concrete wall of the stairwell, roaring in raw agony and rage. “No no no no no no!”

“Roger—!”

And then you see it.

Roger’s right arm hangs uselessly, unnaturally, his snapped radius bloody and splitting through the skin.

[misterfatcakes]

tagged by the wonderful and gorgeous @dilf-frank !! I always forget to do these tag things but I do enjoy them so thanks for including me ^-^

rules:  you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to! put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs, then tag 10 people. no skipping!

My current playlist only has 16 songs so this is actually most of them lol. also imma do blurbs as well bc that is such a good idea thankyou.

1. Blood of Angels by Brown Bird

A jam!!! This is my personal anthem. I love brown bird and this son goes hard. "Maybe I'm not born to die" and "too many tries at tempting fate... Get to thinking fate's got different plans" are both high-key moods and make me scream. Very relatable, very cool.

2. Eyeblack by Maiden Names

Maiden names are so good and so underrated. They made a full album of batman music and it's so good!!! Eyeblack is a really fun one and I wanna make art for it. Also in one of their songs there's the line "took your silver spoon, traded it for the moon" which I have lineart for and need to finish. I love them so much,,

3. Classic Man by Jidenna

I found this song on an 8tracks playlist for ridder and it's Very Good. I like the aesthetic of the song and the part about every woman on his team being a general remind me of query and echo.

4. Your Suffering by Maiden Names

very edgy. It's a jonathan Crane song so it's immediately 10/10. I like the sound. Hard not to song along when it comes on.

5. Bracing for Sunday by Neko Case

"She died having a child by her brother, he died because I murdered him" yes please and thankyou. Neko Case is very good, I learned about her from the notes in a fanfiction where they said they were listening to her while writing and?? tysm for the great fic and great music @scaryscarecrows

6. Burnadette by I Fight Dragons

A jam!! I love women who are off the shits feral 😝🥰

Same vibe as warp core on the dancefloor. something about it makese want to Bust A Move

7. Saccharine by Jazmin Bean

My little brother was playing Jazmin's music a week ago and I fell in love with it instantly. Very good songs. I like a dental imagery in this one

8. The Truth is it ln the Dirt by Karen Elson

Dirt!!! I love this one so much,, it hits hard on a personal level and also I love me some Buried aesthetic.

9. Terrifyer by AJJ

Oh!!! Important and iconic song. "I just want ed to rage, but all I got was tired" is a mood. Very punk-but-out-of-spoons, or like, burnout-core maybe? Anyway very relatable and also has the coveted teeth imagery. "I ran away from the security guard bc security guards dishearten me" XD

10. Breakdown by the Buzzcocks

Very repetitive, but also a banger. I love the Buzzcocks sm.

I'll tag @bonbongiveshell @patheticnyas @eurojank @willsquanchforfood @smallscarecrow @jeanmjacket @grossdarling @angsty-kiefer @riddlercore and @agent-fangirl

[stony-eyed-and-marvel-minded]

A World Like That

Read on AO3

Summary: The trauma inflected on Pepper and Tony from Thanos has both of them suffering. One night, they just can't ignore the emotions eating them up. Prompt: from Imagine by Ariana Grande "Imagine a world like that"

Rating: T+, WC: 1281, CH: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Quarantine Quick Rights

Notes:

Wow, so uh, yeah this was really hard to write. Tonight I chose my prompt a little differently. Genna and I have playlists for some of our ships, so I generated a random song from our Pepperony playlist, and then generated a line and this is what I came up with. Again, I only had an hour to write this, but I'm happy with what I got out. I was really going through my emotions writing this. I truly see this happening canonically. Good luck, ye who enter here...or however that goes. (I'm fading fast ya'll).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

The sun set hours ago, and Tony is still in his workshop tinkering away. Turning over in bed, Pepper huffs as she sees the clock blink out 5:00 AM. Tonight makes it a full week that Tony has stayed up through most of the night working instead of being a normal human, leaving Pepper to take care of Morgan in the mornings while juggling the crisis plans for a billion dollar company.

“God dammit Tony,” Pepper mutters as she pushes herself out of bed to shuffle down towards the dim glow of the workshop lights. She can hear the faint murmurings of Tony talking through whatever he’s working on, and the occasional clink of metal.

“Alright FRIDAY try this configuration, replace 2000 watts with 2750 watts and run it again.” Pepper can tell just from Tony’s voice that his brain is running a thousand miles an hour in every direction.

“Sure thing, boss. Do you want me to lower the compression as well?” FRIDAY’s eager to please voice chirps back.

“For now, no, but put up the shields in case of any blow back.” When Pepper reaches the door, a faint whirring begins, and she pushes through to see the workshop in chaos from Tony’s latest breakthrough in solving whatever new crisis he has conjured up.

Tony hasn’t noticed Pepper’s arrival, so she clears her throat. Nothing.

“Tony, do you have any idea what time it is?” Tony swivels around in his chair.

“Pep! Is it Tuesday morning already? You need me to put in the order for taco stuff for tonight?” Tony looks jittery and like he’s been put through the ringer all at the same time.

Pepper sighs, “Tony, Taco Tuesday was five days ago. It is 5:00 AM on a Sunday . What has kept you from coming to bed this time?” Pepper is rubbing her temples now, she can already feel a migraine coming on, and she knows it will only get worse.

“Huh, Sunday already?” Tony pauses when he notices the frustration edging Pepper’s face. “It’s nothing to worry about honey, I’ll be fine. I’ll come to bed in a little bit. Why don’t you get some more sleep?”

“Tony you have been saying that for the past week, and every morning, I have to come down here to drag you back to our room after you pass out during one of your little experiments. Now I know things have been really hard adjusting to everything that’s happened, but Tony if you don’t talk to me I can’t help you.” Pepper is trying — she really is — to keep herself from exploding with the built up anger from the past seven months of these episodes.

She’s let it go because she knows that the trauma Tony has gone through with Thanos is beyond anyone’s comprehension, but she feels as though she’s been raising their child with Tony only half there.

It’s now gotten to the point where she doesn’t think she can handle much more before she has a grade-A meltdown.

“I know, I know it looks bad. But really, I’m okay. Look, I will wrap up the project for tonight, and I will be up to bed in a little bit. I just have to finish this up—”

“Tony enough!” Pepper erupts, stunning Tony into silence. “What if you just stopped? What if you just accepted that things are not going back to the way they were, and actually joined your wife and daughter in the new reality? For christ’s sake Tony, you have a fucking daughter and you are barely there to see it!”

She’s screaming now, and her face is hot and most likely burning red, but it just feels so good to get it out, “What if you actually showed up for regular meals and bedtime? What if you started acting like the father I know you can be? Imagine a world like that!”

Tony is now red and shaking with more emotion than Pepper has seen in him in awhile. This is not what Pepper wanted to do when she came down here, but she knew it was bound to happen eventually.

“Imagine a world like — Pep, imagine a world where Morgan can truly be safe! Imagine a world where Morgan can meet people that have greatly impacted her parents’ lives! How can I call myself a good father if I don’t even try to give those things to her? I am the only person alive now that could possibly provide that for her! And you just want me to give up?”

Tony’s face is streaming with tears that match Pepper’s. There’s so much that has been left unsaid. So much hurt. Pepper thought it was best to give each other space to work it out, but now she’s realizing that what they need is the exact opposite.

“Tony,” Pepper is nearly sobbing now, “you have been working away down here for over seven months now. There is only so much you can do. You’re barely here, and even when you are with us, you aren’t really with us. It’s like living with a ghost . I feel like I’m raising our daughter alone, and I don’t know how much more I can take.” Tony softens, and steps closer to Pepper, reaching out to brace her arm in support, his tears still freely flowing.

“I would give anything to get Peter and the others back...but babe I don’t think there is a world like that.” Pepper’s voice cracks at the end, saying it out loud makes it all too real.

Tony crumbles into Peppers arms, “I — I know, but I — I couldn’t bring myself to give up. I can’t Pep. He was just a kid .”

“I know, babe, I know. But I don’t think he would want you to waste away trying to save him when you have a beautiful daughter to live for.”

“How? I want to stop so badly, but the guilt eats me alive Pep.” Pepper rubs her hand up and down Tony’s back in soothing motions. This is the most physical affection they’ve given each other in months, and she eats up the warmth it brings her.

Her tears slowly fall into Tony’s hair as she says, “We can work at it together. A step at a time. I don’t know all the answers, but being honest with each other will help.” He shakes in her arms, and she kisses the side of his head.

“I think it’s time we both try and see a therapist. Together and separate. There’s no way we can keep on like this and still be able to be there for Morgan.” Now that everything is out, it’s allowed Pepper to calm down and think straight.

“How can we manage all that? Everything seems so impossible right now.” It’s one of the most vulnerable things he’s said to her. She squeezes him tighter, whether for Tony’s benefit or her own, she’s not sure.

“I know Rhodey would love to get some Morgan time, and Nat as well. That can take a little bit off of us as we try and figure everything out. We got this babe.”

“You are the smartest woman I know Mrs. Virginia Potts,” Tony sniffles and it makes Pepper smile.

“You bet your ass I am Mr. Anthony Potts.” Tony chuckles before relaxing further into Pepper.

“Take me to bed?” It’s like he meant for it to be playful, but it sounds more hesitant and weary.

“Always.” She responds with a resounding kiss to the head.

The next year is a journey that leads them to a new quaint cottage where the world finally feels a bit brighter.

Notes:

So yeah. So sorry for any hurt you may be feeling right now...I take full responsibility. Please please please, feel free to yell at me in the comments on AO3 or here. Love you all, stay safe and stay healthy!

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you own any bug spray? Yeah.

Are you a good gift giver? I think so. I love buying gifts for my family.

Whats the longest trip you’ve ever been on? The drive from California to Idaho.

Do you know what XOXO stands for? Hugs and kisses.

What’s the first person who comes to your mind when you hear the word blue? A person doesn’t come to mind.

Have you ever been to New York City? No, but I’d like to.

Have you ever heard of Vogue? Yeah. The magazine and the song.

Are you a daughter or son in law? Nope.

Do you know anyone in the military? No.

Whats your shoe size? 6 (US) in women’s.

Do you know a real life Cinderella story? Like a rags to riches story as they say? No.

Have you seen any of the Harry Potter movies? I’ve seen them all.

Do you like your significate others siblings? I don’t have a significant other.

Have you ever recieved a singing birthday card? Yeah.

Does your name contain more than ten letters? Nope, it’s a letter short.

Whats your cell phone network? Verizon. 

Do you twitter? Yeah.

Do you own anything made by APPLE? My laptop and cellphone. My family owns Apple products, too.

Where did you graduate? A college in California.

What color are your walls in your bedroom? White.

How old is your mom? What about you dad? My mom is 53 and my dad is 57.

Have you ever shopped at Hollister? Yeah. I was into it for a short time. They’re too overpriced, though.

Can you name ten cereals? Yeah, but I don’t want to. Also, have you seen the cereal aisle these days???

Have you ever tried Hamburger helper? Yeah, not a fan.

What was your first cars color? I’ve never had a car. I don’t drive.

Do you have a best friend? Yes, my mom. Were you alive when Clinton was in office? Yeah.

Do you remember who your Kindergarten teacher was? Yes.

Do you have a favorite president? A least favorite? We’re not getting into politics. 

Do you know anyone named Wendy? Nope. I just think of Peter Pan.

Whats the longest you could go without talking? Hours. I don’t think I’ve ever gone a full day except for the times after surgery where I was like out for a day or two or had a breathing tube and couldn’t talk. Ugh, those are the worst.

What about eating? A day without eating at all.

Have you ever watched American Idol? What about the Hills? I was into American Idol for several seasons until the original judges started leaving and then were replaced. It just wasn’t the same. I also got into The Voice and was more interested in that.

Can you french braid? No.

Were you ever a girl scout or a boy scout? I was a Girl Scout.

Whats your least favorite color? Not a fan of brown.

Do you know anyone in jail? Yes.

Do you have kids? Noooo.

How often on average do you cry? Often.

Whats the strangest name you;ve ever heard? Hmm.

How old were you when you learned to walk? I never did. My accident happened before I was a year old, which is usually when that starts happening.

Do you own anything made of lace? No.

Do you hug more guys or girls? The only person I hug really is my mom.  

How many people do you share a name with? A lot. Stephanie is a very common name. Growing up there was always a few Stephanie’s in my class.

Do you know a scrooge? Yes.

Whats your favorite football team? I don’t have one. I’m not a sports fan.

Do you know what “i plead the fifth” means? Yes.

What number in Venus in the solar system? The 3rd, I believe.

How many cell phones have you had in the past five years? 3.

What kind of bubble gum do you chew? I didn’t care for regular bubble gum, but I liked minty gums like Orbit, Stride, and 5Gum. 

Do you wear a one piece bathing suit or two piece, a speedo or trunks? I don’t wear bathing suits. 

Did you go to your senior prom? Yes.

Have you ever fallen in or out of love? Yes to both.

Do you watch the real world? The only season I watched was The Real World Austin. That was back in 2005.

What one celebrity do you hate? There’s ones I’m not particularly a fan of, but I don’t hate them.

Do you support a charity? I haven’t donated to any in awhile. :/

Do you bite your fingernails? I pick at them all the time. 

Have you ever done drugs? Just weed.

Do you pop your knuckles? Sometimes.

Do you burn by the sun easy? If I spend a few hours out in the sun. That only happens when I go to the beach.

Are you a large religous person? What a weird way to word that.

Do you scrapbook? Nope.

Can you name all the baldwin brothers? Alec... and I think there’s a Stephen? That’s all I got.

If you could change your eye color would you and to what color? Blue or green.

Have you ever had braces? Yes, but not for my teeth.

Whats your favorite cartoon character? Alice from Alice Wonderland, Pooh Bear, Eeyore... just to name a few. A lot of Disney characters. Oh, and Chuckie Finster and Tommy and Angelica Pickles.

Imagine your dream home, does it have a fence around it? Yeah.

Do you like Martinis? I don’t drink anymore.

Do you own any yellow shoes? No.

When were you the saddest in your whole life? I’ve been at my very lowest these past few years.

Have you ever seen a ghost? No.

Do you work out? No.

Are you a virgin? Yes.

What color is your favorite shirt? All my many graphic tees. 

Are you in dyer need to take a shower? No.

How many books do you read a month? It varies. I finally started reading again after going like a year. :X I just finished one and started on another. I’m getting back into the groove.

Can you type fast? Yep.

In school were you bullied? No.

Have you ever swam in the ocean? Nooo.

Are you sarcastic? Nooo, never.

Do you own a boat? No.

What about a camper? No.

Do you read the newspaper? No. I read the news online or on the news app on my phone for the most part, as well as on TV.

Whats your pet peeve? One of them is eating sounds. Slurping, smacking, sucking....s,jfksjfklsj

Do you know anyone who suffers from bone loss? I don’t think so.

Do you have any tattoos? No.

Are you on any teams? Nope.

If you died today where do you think you’d go? I pray I go to heaven.

Do you know anyone who is pregnate? I saw someone I have on Facebook is pregnant. 

Who is the first contact in your cell phone? Amanda.

What color are you bed sheets? Pink.

Ever have an itch you couldn’t scratch? Ugh, yes.

How many shoes do you own? A few.

Have you ever been to therapy? Not the psychiatrist or psychologist type of therapy, but I had to have physical therapy when I was a kid and after all my surgeries. I really need the psychiatrist or psychologist type, though..

What kind of car do you drive? I don’t.

What kind do you want?

Would you survive in the military? I can’t go into the military because I’m disabled. 

Do you use online dating? No.

Do you curse? Sometimes.

Do you go to church? No, but I do watch the sermons my local church uploads every Sunday.

Do you think you over weight? No, I’m underweight. 

Did you go to College? Yes. I graduated back in 2015.

Have you ever been cheated on? No.

Have you ever cheated? No.

How often are you sick? I always feel sicky and shitty on some level or another. As for virus type things go, I had the stomach flu a few weeks ago.

Did/ Do you miss alot of school? I always had a few doctor appointments every year and there were days I was sick. The most I ever missed was when I had to have surgery in 6th and 8th grade.

Can you play any kind of instrument? No.

Whats your dating type? What do you mean?

Do you like scented candles? Sure.

Are you easily bored? Most days I’m okay with doing my usual things, but there’s some days where the day just seems to drag even slower and my usual go-to’s just aren’t cutting it. 

Do you know anyone gay? Yeah, a few people.

[orbemnews]

Oscars Ratings Plummet, With Fewer Than 10 Million Tuning In LOS ANGELES — For the film industry, which was already fighting to hold its place at the center of American culture, the Nielsen ratings for Sunday night’s 93rd Academy Awards came as a body blow: About 9.85 million people watched the telecast, a 58 percent plunge from last year’s record low. Among adults 18 to 49, the demographic that many advertisers pay a premium to reach, the Oscars suffered an even steeper 64 percent decline, according to preliminary data from Nielsen released on Monday. Nielsen’s final numbers are expected on Tuesday and will include out-of-home viewing and some streaming statistics. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences declined to comment. The academy had been bracing for a sharp ratings drop. Award shows have been struggling mightily during the pandemic, and the Oscars have been on a downward trajectory for years. But some academy officials had hoped Sunday’s telecast still might crack 10 million viewers and attract as many as 15 million. Humiliating? Certainly. But hundreds of millions of dollars are also at stake. Under a long-term licensing deal with ABC, which is owned by Disney, the academy stands to collect roughly $900 million between 2021 and 2028 for worldwide broadcasting rights to the Oscars. The funds are crucial to the academy’s operations, especially at a time when it is spending to open a museum in Los Angeles. But some of that money is threatened. Payments to the academy include a guarantee and then revenue sharing if certain ad sales thresholds are reached. So far, ABC has been able to keep ad rates high because of the fragmentation of television viewing. Oscars night may be a shadow of its former self, but so is the rest of network television; the ceremony still ranks as one of the largest televised events of the year. Google, General Motors, Rolex and Verizon spent an estimated $2 million for each 30-second spot in Sunday’s telecast, only a slight decline from last year’s pricing, according to media buyers. ABC said on Thursday that it had sold out of its inventory. ABC does not guarantee an audience size to Oscar advertisers, thus removing any potential for so-called make-goods (additional commercial time at a later date) to compensate for low ratings. Some people in the entertainment industry, whether out of optimism or denial or both, believe award shows are going through a temporary downturn — that declining ratings for stalwarts like the Emmys (a 30-year low) and the Screen Actors Guild Awards (down 52 percent) reflect the pandemic, not a paradigm shift. Without live audiences, the telecasts have been drained of their energy. The big studios also postponed major movies, leaving this year’s awards circuit to little-seen art films. The most-nominated movie on Sunday was “Mank.” It received 10 nods. Surveys before the show indicated most Americans had never even heard of it, much less watched it, despite its availability on Netflix. “Mank,” a love letter to Old Hollywood from David Fincher, won for production design and cinematography. Still, the Oscars have been on a downward slide since 1998, when 57.2 million people tuned in to see “Titanic” sweep to best-picture victory. Many factors have been undercutting the ratings, starting with the delivery route. Old broadcast networks like ABC are no longer that relevant, especially to young people. (One awards show that is actually growing is the Game Awards, which celebrates the best video games of the year and is streamed on platforms like YouTube, Twitch and Twitter.) Updated  April 26, 2021, 12:32 a.m. ET In many cases, analysts say, the telecasts are too long for contemporary attention spans. The ceremony on Sunday was one of the shorter ones in recent years, and it still ran 3 hours 19 minutes. Why slog through all that when you can catch snippets on Twitter? On Sunday, video from the ceremony showing Glenn Close twerking to “Da Butt” went viral. Increasingly, the ceremonies are less about entertainment honors and more about civic issues and progressive politics, which inevitably annoys half the audience. Regina King, a previous Oscar winner and the director of “One Night in Miami,” acknowledged as much at the top of the show. “I know that a lot of you people at home want to reach for your remote when you feel like Hollywood is preaching to you,” she said. “But as the mother of a Black son, I know the fear that so many live with, and no amount of fame or fortune changes that.” A half-dozen honorees followed her lead and spoke about issues like racial justice and police brutality. Awards show fatigue is also a factor. There are at least 18 televised ceremonies each year, including the Grammys (down 53 percent) and Golden Globes (down 62 percent). Still, the Oscars ratings plunge in recent years has been more dramatic, and the Grammys is closing in on becoming the most-watched awards show, once an inconceivable notion. It had nearly 9 million viewers for its telecast last month. The academy itself has played a role in the show’s demise, bungling efforts to make it more relevant (hastily announcing a new category honoring achievement in “popular” films and then backtracking) and refusing ABC’s plea to reduce the number of Oscars presented during the show. On Sunday, the proceedings were notably subdued — almost the opposite of a big-tent awards show. The best song performances were moved to the preshow. Film clips were scaled back. Comedy bits were scant. A lengthy section of the show was dedicated to the Motion Picture & Television Fund, a charity that provides housing and health care for Hollywood seniors. A spokeswoman for the academy said the producers of the Oscars were not available on Monday to discuss their decisions. Source link Orbem News #million #Oscars #plummet #ratings #Tuning

[restlessmaknae]

Heartbreak Hotel; Dowoon

Take an aspiring song writer, a rebellious high schooler, a sassy English teacher, a passionate painter and an adventurous tour guide. What’s the same in all of them? They’ve all just had their heart broken.

Heartbreak Hotel is a DAY6 angst one-shot collection with 5 members & 5 songs & 5 stories.

Sungjin | Dowoon | Young K | Wonpil | Jae

II. Dowoon + I Smile

A bittersweet love story in 1487 words for our birthday boy, the one and only Yoon Dowoon. He has feelings for his best friend (OC) but does she feel the same? No triggers, no warnings, just the usual angst. ^^

You were the first girl in my life but I would never admit it.

It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that we’ve known each other since the day we were born. Our mothers were best friends in college and they didn't drift apart, not even when they moved houses and got their first jobs. They attended each other’s weddings and spent every Sunday together because it was “girls’ day”. The news that we would be born almost the same day didn’t take them by surprise, let alone the fact that we were born exactly the same day at the same hospital.

You were my first friend but I would never admit it.

After we were born, our mothers were pretty occupied with their parental duties, so they didn’t stay in contact as much as they used to.

I grew up as an aggressive kid who would take the toddlers’ toys without permission and hit them with the good old plastic hammer just to see them suffer. Small wonder why everyone hated me in kindergarten. I had no friends and this tiny little fact made me more selfish and aggressive. Not even the neighbourhood kids wanted to play with me because my parents were fairly wealthy and they didn’t want me to play with the less fortunate.

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and I acted according to my role until I met you in elementary school. You were my one and only true friend and I had no idea what you saw in me – really, no matter how many times I protested, deep down I know that I was an annoying and dumb kid −, you still kept me company and played with me.

You were my first tutor but I would never admit it.

I had slight ADHD when I was younger and you were the only one who assisted me with school projects and homework. Even the teachers gave up on me stating that I was a hopeless case and to make matters worse, I was arrogant and disrespectful. You didn’t care and although I hurt you lots of times and called you stupid for spending your time with me rather than playing with our classmates, you didn’t budge.

Mum said it must have been fate because they were just as close friends with your mother as we were. You didn’t only help with reading but also with writing and basic calculations. Whenever I needed something, you spent the whole afternoon with me, teaching me in your cute, high-pitched voice and your absolutely ridiculous drawings. Nevertheless, they were all effective and I soon became one of the smartest kids in class.

You were my first crush but I would never admit it.

I remember playing in the corridor around 4th grade, pulling your hair and laughing when you pouted oh so sadly and thinking how lucky I was to have a friend like you. I adored watching your cheeks burning up at my bold statements and your ears turning red whenever you were asked to read your homework out loud. I remember your little floral dresses that I mocked you about because I claimed that they all looked the same, even though my favourite was the one with little pink cherry blossoms. I remember laughing at your braces the first time I saw them and you thought that I was trying to make fun of you, yet I was only thinking how cute you looked in them.

Little did I know that these thoughts turned into something more serious a few years later.

You were my first best friend but I would never admit it.

We enrolled in the same high school too since our mothers didn’t want us to part ways, not when we were closer than ever. I was beside you when you first had your period and no matter how disgusted I was at the thought of you bleeding beside me − not to mention that I made a total fool of myself when I accompanied you when you bought your first ever liners−, I didn’t want to back away. You were beside me when my parents divorced and I had a tough time but I was never good with words, so I wanted to suppress it. Yet, you saw through me and embraced me while I was crying in front of you for the first time in my life. I was there with you at your grandfather’s funeral, holding your hand so tightly that I was almost sure that I broke your fingers. You were beside me when I got kicked out of the soccer team because they thought that I wasn’t good enough and I was there when you received your first ever D on a test and thought that the apocalypse was nearing. You were there when one of the guys wanted to punch me in the face because I didn’t let them copy my homework and I was there when your first boyfriend said that you aren’t pretty enough for him and he wants to break up with you. (That jerk!)

You were my first love but I would never admit it.

I think I already knew that I fell for you when you helped me overcome the divorce of my parents but I was sure only when I was accused of stealing the Chemistry test’s results and everyone turned their back on me, except you. Of course it was revealed later that I wasn’t the culprit but you didn’t even need evidence to believe that I was innocent. You rather believed me than the teachers or our classmates.

After realising that I was in love with you, I started to see you in a whole new light. Now I was the one who blushed when you showed up in a pretty dress or held my hand by accident when we were watching a horror movie. I cracked a little smile whenever I heard your favourite song on the radio or walked by your favourite bakery. Whenever I couldn’t fall asleep, I listened to your old voicemails that I’ve never deleted but you had no idea because I always kept them to myself. I was worried about you whenever you spent your holidays out of town and I demanded you to give me a call when you arrived and keep me updated with your whereabouts. You scared the hell out of me when you once slipped down the stairs in your high heels and I insisted on calling an ambulance, just to make sure that you didn’t sprain your ankle.

You were my first heart-break but I would never admit it.

No matter how hard I tried to deny, I was in love with you and it seemed so obvious to everyone but you. Nevertheless, when you were preparing for a date with your new boyfriend and asked my opinion regarding your dress, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and the words slipped through my mouth.

“Why are you going on a date with that jerk when I’m the one who’s in love with you?”

My confession was followed by a bewildered expression and a regretful sorry. I saw tears shining in the corner of your eyes while my heart was falling into little pieces. I’ve never felt so much pain like I did that day. It wasn’t like losing a loved one because you were still beside me yet you weren’t mine. I saw you with him, you holding his hands like you used to do with mine, you smiling at him like you used to do at me and you leaning onto his shoulder like you used to do onto mine.

We talked it through and eventually drifted apart. We agreed that it would be the best for both of us but you can’t even imagine how much it hurts to see you with him. I smile, of course, that’s my duty. But deep inside, my heart is breaking again and again and I’m afraid that it might not never stop.

So we just keep on smiling like nothing has happened. After all, I can be with you. Not in the way we used to be together in the past and not in the way that I would like us to do but at least we can see each other again. And I… I just keep on smiling. I have to. I finally have a chance to see your face again and I can only do that if I smile, no matter the constant pain and the hurtful memories.

You are the reason behind all my smiles but I would never admit it. Happiness is not the reason behind all those smiles but I would never admit it. I want you to be happy and that’s why I smile.

Maybe deep down you also now but you would never admit it.

[angelichl]

Hi how are u today? I just wanna ask if there's any interpretation of Harry song ?? Can you link it ? Also i wonder why nobody talks about how sad and concerned these lyrics are ??

Hi love!!! Thanks for the question and sorry this is a long post … brace yourself haha. I haven’t seen much analysis of the lyrics, which is very strange! And yes, I have noticed that not many people are discussing the meaning behind Harry’s lyrics. They are very heavy and full of significance, and, you’re right, quite sad. But SOTT is also very hopeful. It’s a song of comfort and reassurance. Sign Of The Times reflects Harry’s tremendous strength and courage, in the most honest way.

Below is a link to one of the only interpretations I found interesting and adequate but not necessarily accurate followed by my own analysis. (I refrained from discussing Larry until the very end, so if you’re not into that, feel free to skip the last segment.)

Get ready, because this post is doozy.

SIGN OF THE TIMES LYRIC ANALYSIS:

https://www.bustle.com/p/harry-styles-sign-of-the-times-lyrics-warn-the-end-is-near-but-are-still-hopeful-49728

Now, I spent the past 36 hours thinking about this, and I even played it for my mom and asked for her input. Of everything I’ve read, half say SOTT is political and the other half say it’s romantic. What do I say? SOTT is both.

Let’s break it down:

Just stop your cryingIt’s a sign of the times

“A sign of the times” = something that is indicative of the current environment/era. A person may say “these riots are a sign of the times” to illustrate conflict. If crying is common enough that it is a sign of the times, something is seriously wrong, and the current period of time is full of sorrow, misery, and heartache. Depressing, no?

Welcome to the final showHope you’re wearing your best clothes

= the first introduction of the “endings/terminus” motif. It reminds me of wearing “your Sunday best [clothes]” to Church. (Notice: “clothes,” not “dress”)

You can’t bribe the door on your way to the skyYou look pretty good down hereBut you ain’t really good

Okay, so clearly this is where it gets a little fishy. Who is he talking to? Not the “you” he was telling not to cry earlier, rather, he’s talking to someone who is corrupt and superficial, and gets through life using money to his advantage (bribing). This person holds the facade of appearing benevolent, but underneath the mask, this person is not really good, i.e., this person is fake and pretends to be a good person but really just has nasty insides. Harry’s saying this person will not make it into heaven. Yikes.

We never learn, we been here beforeWhy are we always stuck and running fromThe bullets?The bulletsWe never learn, we been here beforeWhy are we always stuck and running fromThe bullets?The bullets

Clearly, Harry and the subject of the song (the first “you” mentioned) have been together for a while, possibly in a long-term relationship (hmm, I wonder who that could be? lol). They’ve been in this situation before, multiple times in fact, and though they are aware of it, they never learn from it, and thus never prevent it from happening. So they’re stuck in this awful loop, it seems. And stuck, indeed. In all his years of being a musical artist, Harry consistently writes about being trapped. Interesting. The bullets = conflict, but it is unclear as to what this conflict really is.

Just stop your cryingIt’s a sign of the timesWe gotta get away from hereWe gotta get away from hereJust stop your cryingIt’ll be alrightThey told me that the end is nearWe gotta get away from here

Here he’s reassuring his partner/romantic interest again, telling this person to stop crying because it’ll be alright. This is when he mentions that they need to escape. Shit, that’s heartbreaking. Something bad is happening to Harry and his love, the end is apparently near, and Harry is saying, let’s run away, let’s get out of here.

Just stop your cryingHave the time of your lifeBreaking through the atmosphereAnd things are pretty good from hereRemember everything will be alrightWe could meet again somewhereSomewhere far away from here

Now, this takes on a slightly less ominous, slightly more hopeful tone (see “things are pretty good from here”). Again, he is comforting and reassuring this person that everything will be alright. However, what makes my breath catch in my throat are the last two lines of this verse: “We could meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here”. Not, we WILL meet again, but rather, we COULD. Not definite, just a possibility. How awful! Harry is saying, “stop crying, love, it’ll be okay. We need to escape this place because the end is coming, so you go this way and I’ll go that way, and we might run into each other again or something some time in the future maybe”. The fact that reuniting is only a possibility is agonizing. And … by “somewhere far away from here,” does he mean in the afterlife? Perhaps. Very morbid.

We never learn, we’ve been here beforeWhy are we always stuck and running fromThe bullets?The bulletsWe never learn, we been here beforeWhy are we always stuck and running fromThe bullets?The bullets

What’s interesting about this pre-chorus is that it sorta sounds like “your bullets” rather than “the bullets”. Interpret that as you will.

Just stop your cryingIt’s a sign of the timesWe gotta get away from hereWe gotta get away from hereStop your cryingBaby, it’ll be alrightThey told me that the end is nearWe gotta get away from here

“Baby” = reaffirmation that Harry is singing to his love, rather than just to a friend, or even to society in general (hence my disbelief in the politics theory). Again, more comfort and placation. This conflict clearly affects Harry as well, but he is courageously ignoring his fear and worry for the sake of his partner. That is the epitome of devotion. He must really love whoever he is singing to …

We never learn, we been here beforeWhy are we always stuck and running fromThe bullets?The bulletsWe never learn, we been here beforeWhy are we always stuck and running fromThe bullets?The bullets

Circles, we’re going in circles, dizzy’s what it makes us …

We don’t talk enoughWe should open upBefore it’s all too muchWill we ever learn?We’ve been here beforeIt’s just what we know

Miscommunication is adding fuel to the fire. In fact, it may actually be the conflict itself. Harry is very self-aware, and he definitely knows the components of a good relationship. These two really need to communicate, spill their guts, fears, anxieties, and worries to each other. No doubt, he’s right about that.

Stop your crying babyIt’s a sign of the timesWe gotta get awayWe got to get awayWe got to get awayWe got to get awayWe got to get awayWe got to, we got to runWe got to, we got to runWe got to, we got to run

This is agony. They need to get away; there is no other option. It’s dire, immediate.

Yes, Sign Of The Times is a romantic ballad that serves to comfort his love. Something is obviously wrong and the only way to stop the hurt is to escape. He’s ready to drop everything to get away from here, and this in particular reminds me of If I Could Fly. Specifically the lyrics, “I might give up everything / just ask me to”. It seems Harry has found his answer, and is now desperate enough to drop everything and run. Things must have gone from bad to worse during the time between IICF and SOTT. The idea of running away for the sake of saving your love is haunting.

Now, here’s my Larry analysis. I’ll try not to dwell, since half of the fun is piecing it together on your own, and of course this is just my opinion:

SOTT is a song written for Louis. Harry is both professing his devotion to and comforting the man he loves. They’re currently in a toxic environment, forcibly closeted, not allowed to show any indication that they even speak to each other. When Harry sings of looking pretty good but not actually being really good, he’s referring to whoever is in charge of this shitshow, because this person is clearly greedy and superficial and forcing two people to hide their wonderful love, which is vile. Harry and Louis have been in this situation before … for years, in fact. They’re quite familiar with being closeted: fake relationships, PR stunts, interviews and articles that portray them unfairly. They’re stuck in this situation, trapped by contractual obligations and the fear of professional failure.

There has to be a place where they can escape to, where they will not have to deal with all of this bullshit. Harry thinks there is, and he’s begging Louis to run away with him. The existence of a location far away that provides safety and assurance is breathtaking. I can only imagine these two in a place where they can be themselves, how happy they would be …

Harry is certain they need to run away, but he doesn’t seem very sure that this safe haven actually exists. All he knows is that it is worth it to escape the situation in which they are currently trapped.

There’s an image clear inside my mind: Louis arriving home after a paparazzi walk with Eleanor. He gets home and something seems off but he can’t quite place it so he ignores the unsettling feeling. Harry has been acting … distant, to say the least. Louis brushes it away, ignores the aching in his gut. Everything is fine, except … Harry is upset. Louis doesn’t know why. He doesn’t say anything, neither of them do. They’ve been together for years but this is something that never fails to strike Harry, to gnaw at his insides until he’s constantly on the verge of tears. He knows it’s stupid to be insecure, but he can’t help it. Their relationship suffers, especially because sometimes they are not the best at communication. There are nights when Louis debates confronting Harry about it but decides against it, and falls asleep sprawled out on the bed. Harry pretends everything is fine, but sneaks away when he hears Louis’ soft breath slow to a pace that indicates deep sleep, and then he escapes to the bathroom, turns on the shower, slips underneath the warm water, and cries.

So, there’s miscommunication. Harry and Louis don’t talk enough; they really need to open up. Harry is aware of this. Yet their love endures. He knows they need to run away. He’s ready to give up everything. He would do anything for the boy he loves.

Yes, Sign Of The Times is a romantic ballad. But it’s also political, remarking on the stigma surrounding the LGBTQ+ community, especially in media and entertainment. At the end of the day, Harry leaves Louis with a single message:

There is love to find beyond the horizon.

[gracewithducks]

The rain fell, and the floods came (Matthew 7:24-27; originally Hebrews 12:1-2,12-13)

So I had this whole sermon planned. I mean, this is kick-off Sunday. It’s kind of a big deal: the Sunday when we start up our programming year, when we kick everything back into overdrive, when we start up all our small groups and studies and meetings and ministries in earnest.

 And I was going to talk about how, growing up, this was always one of my favorite times of year: not just because I have a September birthday, and so I may be a bit biased, but because there is something tangibly powerful about the start of a new school year – even more so when both your parents are public school teachers. In our family, this time of year means fresh, un-faded, never-before-stapled paper going up on every bulletin board. This time of year means opening new packs of markers, before any of them have even had a chance for the tips to be squashed and the ink to dry out. This time of year means the smell of new crayons, reams of new paper, pristine folders, just waiting to be filled. This time of year meant new clothes and new backpacks and new shoes and a new beginning.

 This is the time of year when anything can happen: when you reunite with old friends and meet all kinds of new ones, when you get the chance to try new things, to learn new subjects, to set a whole new set of goals.

 And I was going to remind us that learning doesn’t stop when we graduate; that all of us – not just the kids, but all of us – get a new beginning. And I was going to challenge us to think about what we hope to learn, how we might be challenged, and what our goals for the year ahead could be.

 It would have been a pretty good sermon. I had all this stuff about new shoes and running races worked out, and you would have really liked it, I’m sure.

 But it’s not the sermon we need to hear today.

 So today, I’m calling an audible. Today, I invite you to hear these words from the gospel of Matthew, chapter 7, verses 24-27:

 Jesus said, “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had [its foundation] on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell – and great was its fall!”

 Friends, I grew up with this scripture; maybe you did, too. It’s one of those passages that Sunday school teachers and youth group leaders like to come back to again and again, partly because there are such great visuals out there – pictures and videos that can demonstrate the dangers of short-sighted thinking, gorgeous mansions slipping into the sea, as the sand beneath them crumbles away; there are many real-life reminders of the dangers of not taking the time to put a  proper foundation under your house. And partly, too, this is one I remember because there was a song we sang every year at summer camp: “You better build your house upon a rock; make a good foundation on a solid spot. Oh, the storms may come and go, but the peace of God you will know!”

 I remember being told to be like the wise man, to build my life on the foundation of the rock of Christ, to build my life on Jesus, and I’d be able to weather any storm. And I also remember passing smug judgment on all those people too foolish and greedy to put a good solid foundation under their lives.

 Which is ironic. Because part of the “words of mine” that Jesus calls us to hear and act on, if we want to build our house on a rock – is “do not judge, so that you will not be judged...” This very same chapter of Matthew’s gospel starts with Jesus talking about trying to take a speck out of our neighbor’s eyes and failing to notice the log in our own.

 And then Jesus says, “In everything, do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

 And he says, “Beware of false prophets… You will know them by their fruits.” And he warns, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven.”

 And only then does he talk about building your house, not on shifting sand, but on this solid rock. Build your house of faith on this foundation: search for truth, and discern it by its fruits; do not judge others, but treat them the way you’d like to be treated.

 Build your life on something solid. That message has been especially echoing in my heart and mind, for what are probably obvious reasons, this week.

 Last week, some of you will remember, we spent a lot of time talking about Hurricane Harvey. And we prayed for those affected by that disaster, and we gave – and gave generously; thank you, church, for being such a generous people – we gave generously to help.

 But then this week, Irma entered the picture. Another hurricane. An even bigger hurricane, wreaking havoc even now, as we speak. It was a week when suddenly everyone was watching the radar and weather reports, calling and checking on our loved ones down south, watching evacuations and preparations and sending up so, so many prayers.

 And many of you know that even as Irma smashes Florida and the Georgia coast, Jose and Katia are out, spinning over the waters and biding their time.

 But do you remember, long before there was Harvey and Irma, there was Andrew? Twenty-five years ago, Hurricane Andrew ripped through Florida – it was the first major hurricane to hit the state after more than forty years of near-misses. For forty years, hurricanes either changed course or unraveled before hitting the Florida coast, which means, for forty years, people grew complacent, comfortable in the belief that the next big storm wouldn’t come.

 And over those forty years, there was a construction boom in Florida. Building codes were loose and varied from one county to the next, and even where better codes were in place, they weren’t always followed. People looked for ways to keep expenses down by cutting corners: using particle board instead of sturdy plywood to build roofs, for example, and holding those roofs together with staples rather than roofing nails. Everything looked fine; everything seemed fine, and nobody asked too many questions about what was hiding under the shingles.

 And then Andrew hit. And those shoddy roofs were torn apart, turning into dangerous and deadly projectiles. Homes were destroyed, and people died, because of all those years of thinking: it won’t happen here; all those years of thinking: why worry about tomorrow, when we can just do what’s cheaper and easier today?

 After Andrew, Florida’s building codes were completely revamped. Engineers looked at every aspect of homes, searching for weak points, planning ways to minimize the devastation of the next potential storm. Twelve years later, those codes were put to their first major test: when four hurricanes – Charley, Frances, Ivan, and Jeanne – four hurricanes hit the state in just one season. The new homes, built under the new codes, survived; the amount and severity of the damage was drastically, dramatically reduced.

 But rather than celebrating this success, the state started looking for ways to scale the codes back – the reason? All those safeguards were expensive, and home owners and builders were complaining. The lessons of Andrew – the reality that this state dangles right out into the path of many powerful and dangerous storms – it was all ignored and forgotten, once again, for the sake of what’s faster and easier and cheaper today.[1]

 And now, here we are. And the result of those choices is yet to be seen.

 This is the danger, the risk we all face – when we forget about tomorrow, and think only about today. We think, it can’t happen here; it won’t happen to me. It’s the illusion that lulls us into a false sense of security – that tempts us to forego health insurance, because we’re not currently sick; to ignore climate change, because addressing it means drastic and costly changes to the way we live; and we are tempted to put off buying life insurance, because surely we won’t die anytime soon… and we are tempted to live like we’ve got all the time in the world to do the things that matter, when the truth is, the reality is, not one of us knows what tomorrow will bring.

 As Irma was battering the Caribbean, while Florida and Georgia braced for impact, I read an very interesting article on the BBC this week, written by Amanda Ruggeri, with the provocative title: “We could lessen the toll of hurricanes – but we don’t.”[2]

 Ruggeri writes how we tend to describe the kinds of storms we’re seeing now as “unprecedented” – but, she reminds us, “Natural disasters aren’t aberrations. They’re all-too-frequent occurrences – ones that, if anything, are becoming more damaging. And thinking about each one in isolation each time it happens has a dangerous, even deadly, effect: it discourages us from adequately preparing for them to begin with.”

 In short, bad things happen. Denying that bad things happen only hurts us in the end. Pretending that, when bad things happen, they’re the outliers, the exceptions, and won’t happen again – it only hurts us in the long run. Imagine if, every time someone was diagnosed with cancer, every time someone had a stroke or a heart attack, we treated it like a single, isolated disaster – unprecedented, completely unpredicted, unlikely to ever happen again.

 Certainly, when you’re the one who’s been diagnosed or who’s suffered the attack, this suffering catches you by surprise. But if, on a larger scale, can you imagine if our doctors just threw up their hands and said, “Wow, that’s terrible luck for you. What are the odds? Sure wish there was something we could do, but you know, nothing could have ever prepared us for such an unprecedented tragedy.”

 No. Doctors look at many cases, and they try treatments, and they study, and they learn, and they teach us how to live a healthy life-style. And doctors still know that sicknesses and pains are coming: they may not know exactly which people are going to come through the ER doors on any given day, but they never forget, never doubt, that more are coming. So they never stop preparing to help. And when we need it, we’re given treatments, and we’re given medications, based on what’s been learned and tried along the way, so that we might have the best chance of being helped, too.

 Does it mean everyone is healed? No. But does it mean that more people have a better chance? Absolutely. That’s what medicine, that’s what medical science, is about.

 And that’s how it is when, instead of a heart attack, we’re faced by a natural one. The reality is that “there are known, sometimes simple, ways to lessen the human and economic toll of disasters like these. The trouble is, [it’s expensive, and it takes effort, and] doing so requires politicians, businesses and the public to change how we think about the future.”

 Lives can be saved… but we have to act long before the clouds show up on the radar. Lives can be saved in the future – but only if we are willing to make some sacrifices and preparations today.

 Jesus says, “You are wise if you hear these words and act on them” now. You are wise, if you remember, on the one hand, that the future is coming – and you prepare now, as best you can, to weather whatever storms may come; and you are wise, on the other hand, if you remember that life is fleeting, and spend today on the things and the relationships and the work that really matters, the things that will last.

 Friends, we do stand at the beginning of a new programming year. And I still have so many hopes, for all of us, in the year to come. But perhaps my biggest hope is this: that we will spend this year well. That we will find ways to keep one eye on the big picture, to keep one eye on the future; that we will not be swayed by what is quick or what is easy, but we will have the courage and the faithfulness to do what is necessary and what is right – not just for ourselves, and not just for today, but for the future, for our families and our neighbors and for people around the world who we might never meet.

 May this be the year when we work on our own houses – when we take care of our own spiritual health, when we shore up our foundations and reinforce the heart of our faith, so that when the storms hit – not if, but when – when our lives are turned upside-down, we will still have something solid left to hold on to.

 May this be the year when we invest in our communities – when we take care of our neighbors, not just in dramatic acts of generosity and charity, but through the long-term labor of love that it takes to get to know our neighbors, to learn their names, to hear their stories, to share their lives, and to dream together for the future – and to work together to help those dreams to come.

 May this be the year when we remember that one day, for every one of us, the end will come. Each and every person in this room will die one day. No death is unprecedented or isolated; every single one of us is mortal. And so this year, let’s remember that our time is precious; and let’s do what we need to now so that, when that day comes, whenever and however it comes, we are able to face our death – and face our Maker – in peace.

 This fall, friends, we are going to be starting a new series; we’re going to do something a little bit differently. This fall, between now and All Saints Sunday, we are going to be getting to know the stories of the saints – specifically, we’ll be getting to know some of the saints who have lived in the last century. We’ll hear their voices; we’ll see how their faith shaped their lives, how it helped them  weather the storms, and how the gospel helped them  decide what, in the end, is worth living – and dying – for. My hope, my prayer, is that we will be challenged by the cloud of witnesses who’ve gone before us, challenged to live faithfully in our own way and in our own time; challenged to believe that God is still working in us and through us, and our lives and our stories really do matter.

 Friends, may we be generous today, and may be wise, as we keep one eye to the future, and as we make the most of this day. May we love God and love our neighbors, as best as we can, with all that we can, today, and may what we do today reveal God’s love and justice and peace for generations to come.

 O God, when the storms of life come,  we are so overwhelmed. We feel like Peter, sinking into the water, crying out for you to save us – and we long to hear again your promise that the waves won’t overcome us, but you are with us, and we are yours. God, you know how much we struggle to do what is right: and we’re not always sure, even when we do our best, whether it matters at all. Help us; help us to use our lives, our resources, our time, our choices, to show your love – now, today, and in the future. Teach us to see as you do; teach us to love as you love. In Christ’s name we pray; amen.

[1] Alan Gomez, “Hurricane Irma could test Florida’s Hurricane Andrew-inspired building codes” (Aug 10, 2017) https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2017/08/10/hurricane-andrew-florida-building-codes-weakened/490364001/

[2] http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20170907-we-could-lessen-the-toll-of-hurricanes-but-we-dont