#jazz t-shirts women

[brushandneedles]

Vintage Jazz T-Shirt Online: A Nostalgic Symphony of Style

Introduction:

Step into the world of Vintage jazz t-shirts online , where fashion becomes a timeless melody that echoes the soulful notes of jazz music. In this comprehensive article, we'll explore the allure of vintage jazz T-shirts available online, capturing the essence of an era that reverberates through both fashion and music.

Unveiling the Charm of Vintage Jazz T-Shirts:

Vintage jazz T-shirts are more than garments; they are cultural artifacts that bridge the past and present. Each shirt tells a story, adorned with designs that pay homage to legendary jazz musicians and iconic album covers. The allure lies in the unique blend of musical history and sartorial expression. Unveiling the charm of vintage jazz T-shirts is like stepping into a time capsule where every thread carries the soulful resonance of jazz history. These shirts are more than mere garments; they are wearable stories that pay homage to musical legends and iconic album covers. The allure lies in the unique blend of cultural nostalgia and timeless style. Each design becomes a visual melody, capturing the improvisational spirit of jazz and translating it into a sartorial expression. Vintage jazz T-shirts invite enthusiasts to wear not just a piece of clothing but a tangible connection to the rich tapestry of jazz's enduring influence.

Why Vintage Jazz T-Shirts?

Vintage jazz T-shirts offer a compelling journey through music and style. Embracing these shirts means embracing the legends of jazz, as they often feature iconic musicians and album covers. Beyond fashion, their quality craftsmanship and unique aesthetics capture the essence of a bygone era, making each piece a timeless and distinctive wearable artifact.

1. A Nod to Musical Legends:

Embrace the opportunity to wear a piece of history. Vintage jazz T-shirts often feature designs inspired by legends like Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Louis Armstrong, celebrating their influence on the jazz genre.

2. Iconic Album Art Revived:

Rediscover the magic of iconic jazz album covers transformed into wearable art. Vintage T-shirts often showcase timeless designs from groundbreaking albums, allowing you to carry a piece of musical history wherever you go.

3. Quality Craftsmanship:

Unlike mass-produced contemporary T-shirts, vintage jazz shirts often boast quality craftsmanship. The durability and comfort of these shirts ensure that they not only look good but stand the test of time.

4. Unique Aesthetics:

Vintage jazz T-shirts embody the aesthetics of a bygone era. Expect bold colors, artistic typography, and intricate designs that capture the spirit of jazz in a way that modern clothing often lacks.

Exploring the Online Vintage Jazz T-Shirt Marketplace:

Exploring the online Women jazz t shirt online marketplace unveils a curated symphony of sartorial nostalgia. These platforms transcend traditional shopping, offering carefully selected collections that span diverse styles and eras within the jazz genre. Accessible and user-friendly, they provide detailed descriptions, sizing information, and customer reviews, ensuring a tailored shopping experience. This digital marketplace opens doors to rare finds, from limited editions to unique designs, making it a haven for enthusiasts seeking exclusive pieces. Dive into the virtual aisles, where each click echoes the jazz-filled past, bringing iconic musicians and timeless designs to the forefront of contemporary fashion.

1. Curated Collections:

Online platforms curate collections that showcase a wide array of vintage jazz T-shirts. Explore carefully selected pieces that represent various styles and eras within the jazz genre.

2. Accessibility to Rare Finds:

The online marketplace opens doors to rare and hard-to-find vintage jazz T-shirts. Whether it's a limited edition from a jazz festival or a shirt featuring a unique design, these platforms bring exclusive pieces to your fingertips.

3. Detailed Descriptions and Sizing Information:

A well-crafted online shopping experience includes detailed descriptions and sizing information. This ensures that you not only find the perfect design but also the perfect fit for your vintage jazz T-shirt.

4. Customer Reviews and Ratings:

Take advantage of customer reviews and ratings to make informed decisions. Learn about the experiences of others with specific T-shirts, ensuring that your purchase meets both your style and quality expectations.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs):

Q1: Are vintage jazz T-shirts true to size?

A1: Most online platforms provide detailed sizing information to help you choose the right fit. It's advisable to refer to these guidelines to ensure your vintage jazz T-shirt fits comfortably.

Q2: Can I find T-shirts featuring specific jazz musicians?

A2: Yes, many online platforms curate collections based on specific jazz musicians. Whether you're a fan of Miles Davis or Duke Ellington, you can likely find T-shirts dedicated to your favorite artists.

Q3: Are vintage jazz T-shirts only available in men's sizes?

A3: No, the online marketplace offers a diverse range of vintage jazz T-shirts catering to various sizes and gender preferences. Many designs are available in both men's and women's sizes.

Q4: How can I ensure the authenticity of vintage jazz T-shirts?

A4: Reputable online platforms often provide information about the authenticity of their vintage items. Look for details about the era, manufacturing, and any certifications that validate the authenticity of the T-shirt.

Q5: What care should be taken to preserve the longevity of vintage jazz T-shirts?

A5: Vintage T-shirts, like any cherished garments, benefit from gentle care. Follow the care instructions provided by the seller, which may include washing in cold water, avoiding harsh detergents, and air-drying to preserve both the fabric and the design.

Conclusion:

Vintage Men jazz t shirt online available online offer more than just a fashion statement; they are a celebration of musical heritage. As you explore the curated collections, revel in the nostalgia of iconic jazz figures and album covers. With a commitment to quality craftsmanship, unique aesthetics, and an accessible online shopping experience, these T-shirts invite you to embrace the timeless allure of jazz in every thread. Whether you're a seasoned jazz enthusiast or a newcomer to the genre, a vintage jazz T-shirt is not just a piece of clothing—it's a symphony of style that resonates across the ages.

[coquettetoji]

{⭐️} TOJI FUSHIGURO MOODBOARD

★ general toji hcs ★

— QUEUE WEST COAST BY LANA DEL REY

— let’s just pretend in this world he doesn’t have a son to actually care for yk.

— biggest beefiest juiciest (ok i’m exaggerating) but holy shit this guy is huge. i’m talking mma boxer huge, he takes great pride in his physic. and is guilty of being a gym rat.

— cockiest mf ever but in a hot way, he does that cheek tongue thing unintentionally and omlllllll

— toji definitely wasn’t the smartest in school, neither math smart, science smart or reading smart. he fucked most of his teachers but i mean he passed?

— although he wasn’t very academically smart, his skill in business and negotiating led to him earning a high position for a large financial group. drugs like hand over that amex????

— drives a motorcycle, i’m thinking ducati, as a hobby. 😏😏

— smokes cigarettes and drinks, his fav is hennessy, but other than that he’s a clean man

— was an emo in highschool, we don’t talk about that though. and neither does he.

— multitudes of tattoos across his body, mainly on his chest and arms though.

— his dream job as a highschooler was to open a tattoo parlor. he was surprisingly a good artist when it came to sketches.

— silver chains and silver jewelry, he’s pale so his complexion matches the colors better.

— sarcastic humor that would make kids cry. this guy treats everyone the same as if they’ll understand his humor and that makes him not so great around kids

— has a soft spot for cats, really wants to have a kitten but won’t ever commit to it/taking care of it

— has every single dating app downloaded not to date but just to get validation from everyone who swiped right on him. (gets at minimum 83 swipes per day)

— speaking of, his most used apps on his phone are phone (calls), messages, and instagram to watch his instagram reels 😋

— respectful towards women. although he seems like a d bag he does know how to treat a lady right

— drives a blacked out mercedes benz s class, ofc with tinted windows in case of.. yeah

— the scar running from the middle of his cheek down the side of his lip is from a fight during high school that got violent, he won though don’t worry

— grey/silver/green eyes, with jet black hair. he was genuinely gifted with godly genetics

— when he does smile, his lip corners turn up sharply giving him that joker smile type of look, my legs are wide open

— the most laid back chill guy ever, he doesn’t take life seriously enough for him to actually give a fuck

—6’4. argue with the wall.

— his hands are huge and the veins 😩😩😫😩😫 HEHEHE

— wears black compression shirts or black t shirts with sweat pants all day everyday, it’s his signature look

— he smells a bit like cigarettes and Maison Margiela Replica Jazz Club, just an overall eye rolling back into head type of scent

— makes dad jokes all the time minus the part of him being an actual dad

— played basketball growing up just in his neighborhood, was good enough to go pro but his grades were ass lol

— he listens to these actual underground rock bands that literally no one has heard of or the sports podcast on the radio like a true dad

— kinda behind on everything going on in the world right now, but it’s okay bc we love toji for it regardless

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

my favorite incoming dilf with a midlife crisis 😫

honestly one of my fav boards yet, i tried so hard to find the perfect resemblance of toji and omg the scar too kinda works perfectly

[perseidlion]

One Night Can Stretch Into Forever - A Catwin Modern AU

I'm very proud of my WIP, a modern take on Edwin x Cat King. Cat is a personal stylist, and Edwin is an English professor. They meet one night in a jazz bar. They both start to catch feelings almost immediately, but Edwin is determined to keep it casual. Rating: E (soft E, non-graphic smut) Status: Ongoing. No less than 1 chapter per week, sometimes more.

CHAPTER 1

A jazz club was not Cat’s usual scene. Normally, he spent his time at underground clubs and posh cocktail bars. Part of that was practical. As a stylist with rich and famous clients, he wanted to have his finger on the pulse of what was new and trendy. When one of his clients told him about a speakeasy that had been getting a lot of buzz, he was intrigued. He’d been seeing hints of 1920s-inspired fashion in next years’ winter previews his contacts had given him a sneak peek of, which made the jazz club even more intriguing. 

London never had Prohibition, so the speakeasy vibe of Giggle Water was completely contrived. Fake or not, it was executed very well - from the hidden door at the back of a florist, to the exposed brick and brass finishings. He suspected the club might have actually been a Molly House that was given a jazz-era makeover. That would explain why, although the club was not explicitly a queer one, he saw many visibly queer people as he waited in the short line to descend into the club proper.

When Cat emerged from the narrow stairwell, he was greeted with a surprisingly open space with vaulted ceilings which suggested it was once a cellar for the historic building above. There was a small stage in the corner where a trio was playing klezmer music and the club was packed with young and fashionable people. That was a good sign that the visit was actually worth his while.

Normally Cat’s personal style leaned towards the garish and gender non-conforming. For once, he was there to see and not so much to be seen. His deep blood red blazer with subtle black brocade over a tight black t-shirt with a slight sheen and high-waisted, perfectly tailored slacks might be ostentatious on someone else, but on him, it was practically understated. His blond curls were tousled in an easy surfer style and he was wearing cologne that smelled like boozy cherries with a hint of musk. A diamond stud glinted in one ear and he was wearing a subtle amount of eyeliner to make his eyes pop and give them a slight cat-eye look. 

As Cat scanned the well-dressed crowd, he started to mentally catalogue the vibe of the most well-dressed people. Waistcoats for women with very masculine tailoring were well-represented, as were asymmetrical blazers for all genders. A very masculine-presenting person breezed past him in a corset paired with wide-legged trousers with very high slits giving a flash of silver booty shorts underneath. 

“Oh, yes,” Cat murmured to himself.

He’d have to get himself a pair of those pants. Maybe paired with a latex-look turtleneck and a diamond belt and ankle height go-go boots.

Cat had seen enough to know it was worth lingering awhile longer. It was still relatively early, and it was possible more interesting fashionistas and socialites would make their way into the club. So he got in line at the bar.

“The cocktails are quite excellent here. Though if you aren’t a fan of actually tasting the alcohol, you might find them strong for your taste,” came a masculine voice in a crisp, posh, English accent.

Cat turned to find a tall, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties. He was wearing a black and white patterned shirt with an identical tie, and an immaculately slim-tailored pair of black pants and a single breasted blazer that nipped him in at the waist. It was nothing groundbreaking fashion-wise, but it was trendy and well-tailored enough to catch his attention. He was holding a cut crystal glass with something dark and strong in it.

Cat gave him an obvious once-over, then grinned. “Well, I’d say that makes sense seeing as this is a cocktail bar,” he drawled. 

“Oh, you’re American.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No, not disappointed. Are you a tourist?”

Cat examined the stranger, one eyebrow lifted. He was having a hard time reading him. It felt like he was being flirted with, but it could also simply be smalltalk. There was a soft lisp to his voice and a certain flow to his mannerisms that made his gaydar ping. However, he’d made the mistake in the past, misinterpreting poshness for queerness. There was also a note of hopefulness from the stranger that made him think he wanted the answer to his question to be no.

“Resident,” said Cat. He smiled wide enough to show his naturally pointed canines that had given him the nickname in his childhood that he now used exclusively. His gaze flicked to the man’s full glass, then up to his face. “Unless you’re second-guessing your drink, I’m guessing you’re not in line. So?”

“Pardon?” said the man. He was holding himself confidently, but something in his eyes suggested nervousness. 

“Are you going to offer to buy me a drink? Or have I…” he shifted a little closer, “...completely misread you?” 

Continue reading on Ao3

[livwritesstuff]

Ok another question for you my friend, vaguely inspired by something my dad said.

We were talking, essentially, about mortality. My dad said men, generally, have a very good sense of time marching on, while women tend to see “milestones”; baby’s first steps, first childhood crush, graduating high school, etc. and it’ll just hit them sometimes.

So, two-part question: do you think both Steve and Eddie are as my dad described? Steve—aka Mr. psych major—would, I think; but I’m not sure about Eddie.

And part 2: how do they react to their daughters’ prom/homecoming dresses?

ooh okay

I think Eddie would be the one getting caught up in the minutia of it all. He’s the one being like “holy shit, I can’t believe she’s turning [insert age here]” and getting upset every time they lose interest in some little-kid thing, and he notices when a t-shirt that used to be Moe’s when she was little ends up in a donation bag because Hazel finally outgrew it. I think a plus side of this is that he gets to process the whole passage of time thing as it’s happening.

Psych-guy Steve, on the other hand, I feel like would almost be a little detached from it, and not in a bad way necessarily, but I think his perception would be very clinical – like, kids get older, kids grow up, it’s normal and natural and good and all that jazz. I think he’d have an awareness from the beginning that he and Eddie aren’t raising babies, they’re raising people who are babies for a little bit but are ultimately going to be a whole lot more than that.

He gets excited about all the milestones, especially when the girls are babies, but he’s not really thinking too much about it until suddenly he’s teaching Moe how to drive and he has this moment of, “Uh, hang on…when the hell did this happen?”, and I feel like with each kid, it might get just a bit more distressing.

As for prom, I have a longer post planned for when it gets a little closer to prom season (for the U.S., anyways) but my initial thoughts are that Hazel’s prom might be that moment for Steve, even if it’s just her junior prom and he’s still got another year with her before she’s flying the coop too. He wasn’t expecting to get emotional about it either, because between his three daughters there’s been a bazillion homecomings and proms that he hasn’t batted an eye over, but something about seeing his youngest daughter in a long dress with her hair (which is usually a total disaster) done all nice has him going, “Wait-wait-wait-wait she’s supposed to be a baby.”

[mayasdeluca]

I love Stefania but I have no interest in watching/listening that podcast. Any chance you’ll do a recap of the highlights?

Sure...I just finished watching so this is what I took from it:

Says that it’s starting to sink in that it’s the series finale but also feels like they’re on hiatus and that when they’re supposed to go back in July that’s when it will probably really sink in.

They were supposed to film this podcast episode while they were still filming the finale but it was too hectic with them filming overnights and such. 

After long days of interacting with people all day long she needs time to just be alone and recharge/watches Friends to wind down. 

Stefania eats a lot of sweets on set (chocolate donuts) and then they started talking about broccoli for like 5 minutes because Stefania said she loves to eat broccoli and kale and healthier things when she travels because she’s eating all the sweet stuff on set lol

She said she’s not a good cook and didn’t inherit a cooking gene and only does it out of necessity.

Talks about transitioning from dance to acting and says that one day she just felt she was done and she loved dance, it was a great relationship but she’s ready to move on. 

She started dancing when she was six because there was this drawing competition in school and the winner got free dancing lessons for a year and she drew a ballerina and won. Did ballet first but was bored and picked it up years later and did more modern jazz type dance. 

A good portion is then spent of Gaby and Stefania speaking in italian because Gaby lived there for a while. They start to talk about an Italian tv show. 

Jaina and Gaby pointed out that Stefania looks so comfortable speaking in Italian and so herself but Stefania said when she’s acting in Italian, she’s not comfortable and prefers to act speaking English because she has an accent with every language she speaks and she has a different inflection now when speaking Italian while acting. 

North Africa is somewhere she wants to check off on her bucket list.

She prefers the grainy look to film/tv/photo and doesn’t like HD. Film makes it more poetic, dreamy, special. 

Her digital camera she carries around is from the 90’s so the quality isn’t as sharp as pictures are today. 

She talked about her episode that she directed and a lot of her ideas went hand in hand with the script like the scene where everybody was angry and so they then slammed the doors and create the rhythm to create more drama. 

She talked about Zita Sempri and the meaning of ‘always a girlfriend, never a wife’ and how her mom taught her to always keep the freshness of when you’re first dating someone and to never give up your dreams/prioritize others before your own like women tend to do especially once getting into a marriage and that's something especially known for women to do in Sicily.

She says Jeff is super sweet with humans but loves to be the alpha with other dogs and gets aggressive and shows dominance when it comes to her stuff: food, treats, etc. 

Biggest fears: losing loved ones, losing her health/getting injured. Then talks about how she booked Grey’s two days after she was in acting class crying about her accent thinking it was too limited and she wouldn’t get a juicy role. And the minute they got told Station 19 was cancelled, all the fears she had about her accent came back that she will never book a role again.  (ABC count your days for this)

They talk about the difference in fashion/style in Italy compared to the US and Stefania says she has a different closet for clothes she wears in Italy and it’s much more structured/fancy as opposed to when she’s in LA wearing t-shirt/jeans.

They talked about how social media makes everything feel more aware and rigid and like there’s a filter and you have to be careful what you post not to upset anyone and constantly have to edit and you’re less free, authentic, less yourself. 

Stuck on an island and you could have three things: pizza, Jeff, something to drink (she mentioned bringing a water fountain lol)

Something people don’t know about her: she’s shy/reserved. It takes a while for her to open up to someone but once she does she’s more outgoing. She feels like a burden when opening up to someone so she has to make sure it will be well received/feels comfortable doing so.

What she’ll miss the most from Station 19: the people - cast, crew, human connection

What are you excited for in this next chapter? Not to talk about IVF and excited to talk about more stuff that’s more authentically in line with more of what her taste is and has become throughout the years. It has been incredible to play Carina and talk about the baby storyline and the struggles of it but she’s excited to tackle other things that are more true to her. She doesn’t want to have kids and for the past 3 years she has played a character who is desperate to have kids and she said it was beautiful because it was fun to connect with this different version of her and great to act out but she’s excited to act out some things that she does care about. 

She’s working on some kind of story as a director but didn’t want to say to much about it and jinx it. 

She took a pair of Carina’s pants from set but said she should have taken Carina’s lab coat. 

Most difficult scene to shoot - Andrew’s death. Emotionally tolling, a lot of crying, exhausting. 

If she could be in any tv show airing right now what would it be? My Brilliant Friend (Italian show) and she would have loved to be in the movie 7 pounds

She tends to lean more towards drama but would love to do comedy things as well. They talk about how she can pretty much cry on cue and can just think about all the shitty things that have happened to her and it comes instantly. She does a lot of emotional scenes/has to cry a lot. 

Espresso or English Tea? Espresso

Sicily Beaches or Hollywood Hills? Sicily beaches

Art museums or Theme parks on a day off? Art museums 

Dinner at home or Dinner out? Out

Gelato in Milano or Fish and Chips in London? Gelato 

Pizza or Pasta? Pizza on pasta

Tennis or PIckleball? Tennis

Travel to the past or future? The present

Saving lives in the ER or on the field with firefighters? ER

Station 19 or Grey’s Anatomy? no answer

She’s on Instagram and off Twitter for good, her therapist told her to. (And that’s literally all that was said about that and then it ended)

[softedges]

BLUE ; a fluffy one-shot inspired by this short film.

The clock read 7:o5 AM.

Right now, Taehyung would be waking up. He’d be rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while belting out a lengthy and husky yawn. Then, he’d lay in bed for a few minutes, scrolling through Instagram or TikTok before finally deciding to get out of bed and get ready for the day.

Part of you couldn’t help but cringe, feeling a bit embarrassed by having his routine memorized down to the very minute. You didn’t do it on purpose. It just came with being his roommate for the last five years.

You met him at a dinner party seven years ago. Back then, you guys were fresh faces in your last year of college with nothing but time on your side. He was going to be a famous artist and you, a prolific photographer. It’s why you decided to move in together. There was no doubt in either of your minds that this would be your last true year together before your careers and lives took you elsewhere.

How wrong you were.

Your careers skyrocketed but you found yourselves becoming inseparable.

Your first apartment was a hole in the wall. A tiny studio with an even tinier bathroom in the heart of the city. The only thing granting either of you space was a thin white sheet you put between your respective mattresses. As crappy as the first apartment was, however, it was important to you. It was the place where you realized you were in love with Taehyung.

You and Taehyung spent many nights cuddled up on his side of the apartment, watching bad K-dramas, eating terrible junk food, and slow-dancing to Motown classics. On your side of the apartment, you taught him how to properly make mac-and-cheese, the choreography from the dance scene in ‘House Party,’ and playing the Brandy version of Cinderella until you both were reciting the lines out of context. That little apartment had become a little slice of heaven between two best friends.

Even though your careers had taken off and the cash flow was enough to sustain your own apartments, both of you decided to continue to live together. This apartment was an upgrade: two bedrooms, a studio, an office, and two and a half bathrooms. It was more than spacious but space wasn’t something you wanted from Taehyung.

You checked the clock again. 7:26 AM. He’d be getting out of the shower any minute now. It was time to put your plan into action.

This morning was going to be different. This morning, when you had your awkward bathroom run-in, you were going to tell him how you felt, and no matter the outcome, it was going to be great. Because even if he rejected you, at least you had gotten it off your chest.

Quickly, you rose from bed and began sifting through your closet and many drawers. What does one wear to a moment like this exactly? A robe? No. It looked too rehearsed, too staged. Lingerie? No, that looked even more contrived. Most women didn’t make it a habit to sleep in their extra-special-and-sexy lingerie. You looked down at what you had on: a simple white T-shirt and a pair of grey dolphin shorts. He had seen you in this a million times. You wanted to make a subtle statement. Something that would catch his eye but that wasn’t too obvious.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it. You had nearly forgotten it was in your room. Taehyung’s favorite shirt: A baby blue Chet Baker shirt that you “borrowed” two weeks prior when you forgot to do your laundry. You quickly took off your T-shirt and slipped it on.

7:28 AM. It was time.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to see a very wet but very handsome man making his way back to his bedroom.

7:29 AM. You flung your bedroom door open.

He wasn’t there. The bathroom door was open but his was closed, and you could hear the faint sound of jazz music slipping from beneath the door. You had missed your chance. Defeated, you headed to the shower.

As the water rained down on you, you began to doubt yourself. It was a foolish, stupid, idea to tell him you were in love with him. Especially so early in the morning. No, you’d wait until tonight to do it. Over dinner. At least, that way, his rejection wouldn’t hurt as much. You could sleep it off and forget it ever happened by the time morning came.

Besides, were you really Taehyung’s type? The man was quoted as saying he liked women who looked like Lily Collins and you were the farthest thing from a white woman with a model-thin body. You had rich brown skin. Thick thighs. Wide hips. A voluptuous body. You two were just friends. If he had wanted to make a move, he would have by now. As you began to rinse off, a familiar voice floated through the air to you.

“Y/N?” Taehyung said softly. You’re too startled to respond. Your name falls from his lips again as you hear the bathroom door open slightly. “Y/N? Hey …”

“Yeah?” You call out from underneath the water.

“I’m stopping by the bakery before work. You want anything?”

“You.” The word climbs its way from your heart into your throat, through your mouth, and slips past your lips without your permission. There isn’t a word for how mortified you feel.

A silence followed. You wished for the ground to swallow you up.

“What was that?” Taehyung asked.

You shook your head. “Blue,” you lied. “A blueberry muffin. I’ve been craving one all week.”

Another silence. Taehyung eventually chuckled and said, “Of course. Anything for my favorite girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You leaned against the shower wall and cursed yourself for being so silly. Perhaps he hadn’t heard you at all.

After getting dried and dressed, you find your blueberry muffin and a paper cup of coffee sitting on the kitchen table. You grab your breakfast and head off to your first photoshoot of the day.

You think about Taehyung all day. You call your assistant by his name. You bump into a wall while daydreaming about him. You space out with thoughts of making love to him when he texts you, asking what you would like for dinner. You realize that you’re going to have to tell him.

But not tonight. You couldn't. It just wasn't the right time. The momentum had been lost.

He’s on the other side of the kitchen, at a counter, seasoning the steak you two decided on. You have your back turned to him on the other side, cutting up vegetables. Taehyung begins to revisit your old college days, how much fun the two of you had, and how you ought to reach out to some of your old friends.  Just as you’re about to agree with him, five little words find their way out of your mouth instead.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart drops. Taehyung is silent.

Clearing your throat, you say, “Olive juice. I mean – oil. We need olive oil. We should really try cooking our steaks in that instead of avocado oil. Mind putting it on the grocery list?”

“Mhm,” he replies and you can hear the soft thud of his feet as he makes his way to the refrigerator, scribbling your request on the large chalkboard hanging from it before he excuses himself to the bathroom.

You didn’t dare to turn around. You couldn’t face him.

Putting the knife down, you head to the fridge to grab a carton of mushrooms when you notice what he’s written on the chalkboard. Olive oil is nowhere to be seen in sight, but six little words are.

‘I’m in love with you too.’

[vintagehellfire]

All For Show | E.M

musician!Eddie x showgirl!reader

summary: 1955 New York City, where dreams come true. You get to dance and perform for crowds every night, bringing in good money for yourself and for daddy’s jazz club. The regulars love you, the women envy you, and the musicians are strictly banned from flirting with you (and the other dancers of course). This wasn’t a problem until your father up and coming musician Eddie Munson to perform at his jazz club. Eddie was the first man to catch your eye, and you the first performer to be worth his time, and your fathers wrath.

warnings: implied female reader, mysoginy, eventual smut, swearing, no use of y/n, nudity, drugs, smoking, slow-burn, alcohol, anger issues, controlling father, mentions of assault/implied assault (against reader), 18+ only. mdni

Chapter II: Devil Woman, You’ve Cast Your Spell | 5.2k words

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The utterance of the three simple words had your head reeling, an informality at best, an extension of some private and more intimate privilege at worst. Admittedly, the name suited him far better than the formal nature your father addressed the man in. Nothing about Eddie could be labeled as formal much to your fathers chagrin. His unruly hair, tied up in a crows nest of a bun, little curls falling out from in front of his ears. His button up shirt was a little wrinkled, a product of sweating under the hot lights of the stage, but he wore it so well. He gave the impression that he worked a hard day's labour and was finally given a moment of reprieve. The energy Eddie exuded was nothing if not easy going, the slender cigarette tucked between his index and middle finger, brought gently to kiss the space between his lips. An inhale, a held breath, a gentle exhale, and possibly just the prettiest twists of smoke you might have ever bore witness to. As he drew the cancerous vice away from his mouth, he dropped his arm, sleeves slipping back down to cover his inked arms. And god what you’d do to be held in his arms, tasting his lips.

You bashfully introduced yourself, cheeks heating at the realisation that you’ve been staring at this man for far too long, however it’s not like he hadn’t been taking you in either. The pout to your red lips, your beautiful and wide eyes that were accentuated by a nice little flick of a cat eye, the tail of your eyeliner coming to a point so sharp that he would have thought you took a blade to draw it on. Your perfectly coiffed hair bounced with volume, and your robe left little to the imagination, especially after such a show you had put on. You extended a manicured hand out to the man, and with a small second of hesitation, and an approving nod from your father, Eddie shook your it. As soon as his rough and calloused hand slid into your delicate one, there was a spark that went off, something that made you never want to relinquish the privilege you were just granted. In that same moment, neurons started firing on the musician’s end. His split second thoughts went to insecurity over the contrast that was the delicate nature of your skin versus the used and abused workers hands. There wasn’t a way you should have enjoyed the feeling of sandpaper skin against silk, yet it was of note that his hands were not that of sandpaper, no. They were workers' hands and yet they held a lightness to them, a certain airiness that wasn’t often found in the hands of men.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You let out, voice casually sultry — your father was simple enough to think it was still the act you were putting on, after all it was good for the reputation of the club if you kept appearances — the reality was much worse, the reality was that Eddie had simple stolen any ounce of breath you held in your lungs. How could he not?

“Likewise, sweetheart.” Breathed out the man with doe eyes. You could have sworn your heart stopped at the pet name, you could have given yourself away had you not been a good enough actress, and yet you tried to remain composed as one of the only men to have been able to capture your attention was so cavalier as to utter such sweet words in front of your father. Your eyes locked onto his, not daring look away because if you did, how were you supposed to memorise the galaxies in his irises and commit them to memory for years to come if you did? How would you live with yourself if you didn’t remember the man that had your breath hitch from the second you spotted him? Your father cleared his throat, interrupting the intense staring contest you and Eddie had gotten yourselves into. Both your hands dropped to your sides at that.

“Now kids,” you father started, “there’s a rehearsal tomorrow, Munson here has got a new song he’s been toying with, haven’t ‘cha, son?” He asks, patting Eddie on the back harshly. That was just how your father was, however; ever intense and without comprehension of other’s personal space.

“Hmm? Oh yeah!” Eddie let out. “It’s this really lovely piece called Pink Pussycat, I think it would be right up your alley, sweetheart.” There it was again, that little pet name. “I’d need to steal you away for a few hours tomorrow afternoon — if that’s alright with your old man of course,” he received a curt nod from your father. “I know it’s last minute but I’d at least like to try.” He lets out, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Besides, how are we to coordinate your dance numbers if you don’t know the songs you’re dancing to?” He asked with a wink, dimples becoming more prominent the wider he smiled. Your heart melted at his words and your eyes slowly trailed down to his perfect lips, his entrancing dimples. You swore he smiled with his whole face, eyes shining with a glint of mischief. You bit your lip as you looked to the floor, providing Eddie with a nod in agreement.

“Alright, pretty boy, you bring up a valid point.” Your lips split into a mischievous grin. Eddie could have sworn his heart leapt into his throat at the casual flirtation, his figure stiffening up. Surely you were like that with everybody, it was a lot easier to tell himself that you were rather than overthink and speculate why you were choosing to lightly flirt with him in the presence of your father. He shook it off and returned a blank expression. He couldn’t let himself feel this way about you, especially with your father owning the club. Your father, who had made it clear that any sort of flirtation or affair was strictly forbidden with you. Eddie couldn’t help but get lost in your words, your eyes, and he couldn’t help maybe get a little lost in the promise that the flirtation hinted at but he was doing his best not to. “Just give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.” You flashed him your angelic smile, bright red lips tugging at the corners, eyes crinkling with smoothed out crows feet. The musician couldn’t help but crack a smile in return, yours becoming infectious like a disease but he couldn’t help but want more of it.

The following morning you sauntered into the bar, nerves eating you alive with the anticipation that you’d get to see Eddie. Your mind ran itself into the gutter the previous night, tempting you with what you couldn’t have, with what was just under your nose and yet so far away, buried deep in what should have been a bottomless grave. Your father would never allow for such a thing, going steady with a club musician, much less a beatnick jazz musician that played at his club. Your heels clacked on the floor with every confident step you took, heart hammering into your chest as you approached the stage. Daddy wouldn’t be in until at least noon, a shipment of rye coming in rather late for his liking, and so he trusted you to not get into too much trouble. Somehow, trouble always found you.

“Fancy seeing you so early, sweetheart.” The voice mused. You quickly shot your head towards the source, cheeks heating at the pet name. As soon as you laid eyes on Eddie, the sinful cigarette perched upon his bottom lip, a deep inhale, had smoke curling out from his parted mouth. He blew out the blue-grey whisps gently, making sure not to blow the cancerous substance towards you. Not once had you believed that such a habit could be so alluring, and yet here was Eddie Munson, already altering how you saw such mundane everyday habits.

“Thought I’d sneak in some practice time before father gets here. He likes giving some of the morning crowd a show sometimes, but the pressure of him being there as well isn’t always welcome believe it or not.” You admit bashfully. You’d rather not dance for the morning crowd but sometimes it helped to get some practice in front of the regulars. Delores often came in for her coffee and to read the paper, solving the crossword in the company of your father while he made sure to take care of the grime and dishes from the previous night. Harold would come in after a long night shift, as for the on the rocks and down it while he listened to Delores rattle off crossword clues as if it was this morning's news. There was also Gus who would swing by for his coffee and idle chat with father, asking about any up and coming musicians he should keep an eye on.

“Well alright then snake,” Eddie laughed out, “let’s rattle.” A mischievous smile graced his lips as he stubbed out his cigarette. He slid behind the piano that found home up on the stage and he found a sort of solace being behind the instrument. He belonged and it was as if he commanded the piano to play the music. He was its master, not the other way around. He commanded the music, the music didn’t command him and as soon as his fingers brushed against the keys, the rhythm swept you off your feet and you began moving in what seemed like the most natural and sensuous way you knew. You were the perfect example of the music mastering you, guiding you. The music was your partner and you didn’t need anybody but it. Surprisingly, you found yourself longing for a new partner, and he so happened to be across the room, brown pools darting down towards the ivory keys in a hurry, knowing he was caught staring at you.

The theme echoed through the music hall, allowing you to sway your hips slowly to the tune. Without the eyes of those close to you trickling across your figure, you dared approach Eddie, putting on a little performance for him, bending over and dragging your body up along your legs before you flipped your hair back, tossing a look over your shoulder and supplying him with the most suggestive wink. With that you sauntered across the stage making your way down low to your knees, spreading your legs slowly, leaning into the way the music moved you. If Eddie weren’t so dedicated to his job, god he would have lost it there and then. He was sure that he had made some devil angry enough to send this angel to him and forbid him from ever having a taste of heaven. If the world were on his side he’d be up there dancing jive with you, swinging you in his strong arms, if the world were on his side he would have met you before being hired by your fathers club, but the world was rarely on his side. God, the devil, however you wanted to put it, was decidedly against Eddie Munson and so that being the reality he would have to work to tamper his feelings down, beating them to a pulp.

It wasn’t long before you got a routine down, running over it a couple of times before you had gone to change into costume in order to give your father a show of what was to come. He was usually the one to see your routine and cheer you on, and it was his stamp of approval, a little kiss to the forehead, and let you know that it was an exquisite performance. And so that was what you planned to do, you got changed and in the early evening you nudged Eddie to start playing the intro to the song while you shook off your nerves backstage. As the first notes rang through, you stepped out, extending your smooth leg out from behind the velvet curtain, dragging your gloved hand along your thigh, before completely stepping out and slowly taking the lace gloves off, trailing them along your body in a similar fashion that a lover’s hands would. It made Eddie jealous yet there wasn’t anything to be jealous of. They were just a silk fabric after all, not the hands of a patron, a lover, or any man worthy of your time. You made your way up to an empty chair in the front, swinging your legs over it and enacting shoving your gloves in someone’s mouth before harshly pushing away and walking back to the stage, dropping slowly to your knees, spreading your legs out, then tucking them under and rolling, pulling the strings off your robe, allowing it to drop. Another 180° turn and you got up, ass high in the air, exposing your behind, covered in nothing but a lace thong and garter belt, the straps digging into the fat of your ass.

Eddie did not falter in his performance despite his mouth running as dry as the Sahara Desert. His tongue felt heavy, like sand had pooled itself up into his throat and no amount of water could cure this thirst. Of course it wouldn’t for it wasn’t what he was thirsting after, no, his need could only be quenched by something unattainable, something so far out of reach that he would find himself hallucinating before he could even feel a drop of relief on his tongue.

Your exhibition continued on and it seemed your father was happy with the performance to come, and even more so with the confidence the musicians exhumed. Ever since he brought that Munson man on it seemed that everyone was on their best game — it was undeniable — it was a solid choice and he would hope to not regret it. After your little practice you headed backstage to cool off and get ready for the night show, thinking you might be able to get some food and a drink in before the patrons would come in, after all, you needed something of substance. Nerves began to overtake your body, tonight was an important night, Friday nights usually were. The beginning of bender weekends where folks of all kinds of coloured backgrounds would come witness your performances before being invited to perform some of their own gigs. It was more or less an open mic night after your introductory performance — start the night off with a bang and encourage other performers to saunter up into the spotlight. If the music moved you enough you’d often come in for another little dance or two, practically flirting with the music, that’s when the real party started. The beatnicks would always bring a little powder or grass and in combination with the rye your father managed to get his hands on after the prohibition the weekends were a sure fire sock hop.

You slipped your black robe on and pocketed your metal cigarette case before stepping out, door closing softly behind you, the dim light bathing you in a warm glow. You inhale deeply before opting to pull out and light the thin tube of tobacco. You wished deeply that you were taught to roll your own, but that wasn’t very lady-like as your father put it, a phrase you grew to resent over time. You didn’t get very far in your search for sustenance before you bumped into someone’s chest.

“Oh, pardon me!” You exclaimed in surprise, smoke wafting around you. As soon as your eyes made contact with the body, eyes trailing up to meet the stranger’s figure, your mouth ran dry and not from the cigarettes you were smoking. “Oh, Eddie, please excuse me, I didn’t mean to barrel into you.” An unknown heat crept up to your cheeks, it wasn’t embarrassment, no, it was something foreign to you.

“No need to apologise, darling,” He exhaled, a glazed look overtaking his big brown eyes, “I actually wanted to come give you this.” He held out his hands, long fingers curling around a plate of toast, a bowl of roasted tomato soup sitting on top, balancing delicately, steaming and ready to be downed. “Your father he uh, he thought he should bring it over but I wanted to tell you to break a leg. You’re one of the best performers I’ve had the pleasure to work with and it’s not likely I’ll be able to get many words in after tonight.” A nod was sent his way before you reached out for the plate, dainty and warm hands wrapping around the porcelain. It wasn’t lost on either of you that you made contact with the calloused and slightly worn skin of the musician. If you were being honest, you took this opportunity as an excuse to confirm the wave that rushed through you at his touch, to confirm it wasn’t a fluke or just a figment of either of your imaginations. Your heart rate spiked dramatically as a smile reached his face, dimples inset in his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling with little crow’s feet. The moment gave away just how much he smiled, a happiness that made a permanent reminder in his features, one that you were jealous of — it’s not that you weren’t happy per se, it’s just that your life wasn’t all that it was chalked up to be.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You whispered his name as if it was sacred, a mantra that you could pray over - an idol to worship in pure sin. He was a temptation sent by the devil himself and yet he was angelic in his being. He exuded a light that rarely captured a being, a light so bright that it caught your attention and commanded it. He was the false idol you dropped to your knees for, dancing to the rhythm he set, and he was none the wiser.

“It’s not a problem, sweetheart.” He offered you a gentle nod before his smile dropped. He shouldn’t have even offered to bring you your meal.What if your father were to catch on to his infatuation? He didn’t even really know you and that was the way it should stay no matter how much you commanded his attention even from across the room. Eddie was sure that he’d be able to pick you out of a crowd with one glance but he shouldn’t be able to — this is something he had to put a stop to if he was being truthful with himself, with you both. He didn’t want to cause problems for you, job honestly be damned. If losing his job meant that he might get a shot with you, who was he to stay at this club? Sure it was a club on 52nd and conveniently close to his apartment, but he’d perform down in Greenwich Village- no, no. He had to snap himself out of his.

“Hey, uh, Eddie, do you care to join me?” You boldly asked, moving your body aside and starting to open your dressing room door. “I don’t really favour eating alone.” It was a bold move on your part, and you saw him stiffen up. This could be dangerous for you both if your father were to find out about it and he didn’t want to put you in any sort of position. An expression of hesitation painted itself across his features, sucking his bottom lip in, eyes darting from side to side anxiously as if he were being watched.

“Look, uh… I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Best keep this professional and all. You wouldn’t want to upset your daddy, and I have a contract to fulfill. You understand, don’t you?” He shifted uncertainly. He didn’t want to do this but it was needed, part of you understanding but a deeper part of you feeling your heart plummet. It felt drenched in ice water, weighted down and dragged to the coldest depths of the ocean.

“Of course,” you let you, tone shifting to something hollow and detached, “thank you, Mr. Munson.” You grabbed the plate from him, opening the door to your dressing room and slipping inside without sparing him so much as another look. As you closed the door you thought you heard a quiet hiss of ‘way to go Munson’ before footsteps backed away from your door. You allowed the plate and bowl to clatter against your dressing room vanity, not willing to look at the food your father must have provided you with. Bile rises in your throat at the rejection - it wasn’t something you were used to from strangers and certainly not the club regulars, it something you were more used to from those closest to you, but Eddie wasn’t close to you — he wasn’t a club regular either — and yet somehow this stung worse than the rejection your mother offered you time after time or the rejection of any suitor that your father would impose. Suddenly this sadness shifted to something entirely different, an anger that you didn’t know you harboured. You stood quickly, making a last minute costume change before ripping your dressing room door open and heading down to the bar for a pre show drink.

Kip, the new part time busboy and bartender, was the one serving drinks, he was young with a shock of freckles across his high cheekbones, moussey red hair sat perfectly coiffed on top of his head. He wasn’t what you’d call particularly handsome but he was someone most women thought was easy on the eyes but he wasn’t Eddie. You called him over and ordered a Giblet, asking him to make it extra strong for you and he did so with pleasure, showing off his skills. He served it to you in a gold rimmed coupe and delicately placed it on a black napkin. You barely paid him any mind as you took the stem of the glass with your manicured hands and brought the coupe to your lips. You sipped it, too distracted by the way that the club patrons came and went like clockwork. A few would sit at their usual tables, moving when they found their friends, some would stay for a drink and leave, but within 30 minutes the show goers and beatniks were there to stay and relish in the show that was about to be put on. Cigarette smoke filled the air with a cloudy grey hue, creating a heavy set mood, a mood filled with want — there was an undeniable underlying energy, an antsy one at that.

Slowly you finished your drink, wiping the last few drops off your bottom lip with the rough pad of your thumb, a streak of red being left on it after your lipstick. I’ll have to reapply it, you think to yourself about the waxy substance. So with a few long strides you leave your bar stool and head over to grab your lipstick from your dressing room, hurrying so as to not be late to start your show. You were never late, you were always on queue, allowing the musicians to count you in with a four bar intro before the song flowed into a more suggestive beat. Tonight was no exception, however; plans had changed for your little number. If it was seductive before it was downright filthy now. A not so coy plan to get Eddie to notice you, to pay him back for the embarrassment of not having dinner with you. You just wanted to be kind, you weren’t expecting much more from him — you knew your dad might not see it that way, and of course you didn’t want to risk the man’s job, but a selfish part of you wanted to get to know him. The flirting between you was obvious despite the few interactions you’ve both had, and the coldness that Eddie exuded after your extended invitation was a little bit strange, as if he was trying to hold back on something.

As soon as the lights went down in the bar, hushed whispers fell across the crowd, a few abrasive and high whistles traveled through the air but found themselves landing on deaf ears. You cared for nobody’s opinions or cat calls, you only cared to perform. It gave you a certain thrill to be up on stage under the spotlights, and so when the anacrusis and fours following bars queued you in. Your outfit change took not only your father but the musicians by surprise as well. It was a lot more revealing than you had originally planned. A black lace bra adorned your chest, with a black suspender belt hugging your waist just right. You abandoned your corset completely and wore a sheer robe over your costume. You left nothing to the imagination with your sheet thong, the suspender belt holding your stockings up, digging into the meat of your thighs. Your stilettos accentuated the length of your legs, creating the illusion that you were taller than you realistically were and this fed particularly well into when you’d bend over.

As you emerged onto the scene, you feigned modesty, one leg out the curtain while running your hand delicately along the soft skin. As you stepped out holding a feathered fan in a satin gloved hand you peaked your wide eyes over the top, raising your shoulder gently and throwing an innocent glance towards the patrons of the front row. You fanned yourself as you made your way up to the Victorian style chair in the middle of the scene and you straddled it, closing your fan and tossing it towards the crowd while they cheered. In that moment you dropped your robe, revealing the lack of clothing that adorned your body. With a backbend your hair dropped, breasts nearly spilling from your bra, you sank lower and lower before pulling yourself back up slowly. Someone threw their tie to you on stage and you made good use of it, picking it up and running it down your back and across the tender flesh of your ass. You leaned into it suggestively, swinging your hips from side to side much like the pendulum of an old grandfather clock. Eyes were locked onto your movements, men left drooling over your sultry new routine, but you had yet to capture the attention of a certain musician. You upped your game a little more at this realisation, swinging the chair closer to the piano bench and hoisting your leg up on it, you twirled the tie before standing up on the chair and tipping it back with a foot on the backrest. You gently landed on the piano, rolling your back across it, legs high in the air before resting on its surface, stomach down, the tie being gently placed around Eddie's neck.

It was just then that he dared look up at you and a heat overtook his body, crawling its way, unbearably, to his neck. He had nearly slipped up on the piece that he had been preparing for weeks, initially planning just to play it at some other jazz club off of 6th, but the opportunity here lended itself nicely. He slurred the notes together seamlessly, not tipping your father off, nor the poor men in the front row who he thought were more deserving of your attention — especially if you were working for tips. That didn’t seem to matter anymore, not after you rolled off the shiny black piano top and strode across the stage, making time to roll, tumble, and lift your hips to meet nothing but the empty air, making a show of getting up, ass high in the air.

Your little performance continued on with a few lap dances in between, eyes locked onto Eddie as you did so, sending him a small wink when he would look up from the black and white keys that his fingers expertly worked. He knew what he was doing just as well as a mechanic knows his well oiled machines. His eyes left the keys and yet he continued playing, fingers having deftly memorised each position. As the last note rang out, Eddie’s last shallow breath left his lips before he hurriedly excused himself. You, however, waited until the lights went out before slipping behind the velvet curtain, ready to change into a more comfortable dress for the rest of the evening. You wouldn’t be joining in any more dances unless it was some jive or swing, you needed a quicker pace to get rid of the adrenaline that coursed its way through your veins.

There was an anxiety that clouded you all of a sudden, what if you’d gone too far? After all, you didn’t know Eddie, just that he seemed to have captured your attention the second he stepped foot into the room. You knew his smile was infectious and that whatever he was making you feel was not something that usually overtook you, and never this strongly.

As soon as you shoved the second set of curtains aside you opted to make your way down the winding hall and to your dressing room. The lights were too hot, too many eyes were on you tonight and frankly you needed a minute to catch your breath. Nothing could have prepared you for the gruff pair of unwelcome hands shoving you up against the cool béton of the adjacent wall. After the initial shock wore off your watering eyes landed on the source of such aggression — the shock of red hair gave it away, a darkness painted across his features, a want filled with lust and rage. He might as well have been seeing an acrid crimson across his vision with the expression he wore.

“How about you be a doll and help a man out, peach.” He spat out the nickname, venom dripping black from his tongue. “You got us all riled up for nuttin’, and no relief either.” His breath felt hot, stale and bitter notes hung onto it like one might hold onto bitter memories, hoping that one day they might resolve or taste sweeter than they do. Like wanting to turn mead back into honey, it wouldn’t happen.

You shoved him away as best you could, pushing against his shoulders but his hand came around your neck, an unwelcome sensation as best, suffocating at worst. It stole the little breath you had left in your lungs as you choked out a muffled cry for help. Meek, trying, yet your words weren’t strong enough and eventually began to get caught in your throat. You brought your knee up to hit him in the family jewels, hoping that you’d render them invaluable but before you could feel the impact of your knee against the soft and unprotected parts of the man before you, a violent pull pried the redheaded busboy off of you.

“Don’t you fucking lay your hands on them ever again.” The deep voice rumbled out with such ferocity that you almost didn’t recognise it. “Why don’t you shag* before I lose my cool, you sunofabitch?” You looked up to see a man possessed, his voice wildly different from the warm tones he spoke to you in, the one that had been a little more than hot and cold with you, one that soothed you like thyme and honey soothed a sore throat. The one that you decided in that moment you would want protecting you so long as you had the privilege of it.

*Shag: To get lost, to leave

a/n: hey sorry if the formatting is weird or off, I’m on mobile as my computer ate shit before I got around to writing/posting this. Anyway, here it is, longer than the first part,and hopefully they just keep getting longer from here on out. Thanks for reading!!

tag list: @ali-r3n @cryingglightningg

Let me know if you wanna be added or removed from the tag list! :)

Part I

[dabblingreturns]

On one hand censorship is bad.....and trying to controll your roomates is bad.....and all that jazz

But gid I felt it when Paul told Nona that Camilla wouldn't have allowed nona to wear the "mustache rides" shirt in the apartment.

Because can't an very tired ace women be in her own home without constantly being shown a crass innuendo.

I get that there is humor in a rude T shirt. And I get that thier is humor is that shirt being worn by someone who it seams wildly inappropriate for. But a joke can be funny and also in poor taste. And jokes in poor.taste can be so very tiresome

And it's also very much a joke between Pyrrha and Nona from which Camilla is excluded. And Camilla without Palamedes probably always feels about like an inside person now out in the world alone. And that's very tiring as well.

And so without yucking anyone's yum, or killing anyone's fun, I think camilla deserves to come home and not see Nona in the mustache rides shirt.

[nancypullen]

Monday

Ugh, Monday. I knew it was going to be an exceptionally busy day at work and I was right. Normally I enjoy being right, today...not so much. I got up and got myself ready, choosing comfortable and cool clothing. I fortified myself with caffeine, and headed in to do battle. We're in full blown summer programming at the library and my first task of the day was to teach 25 kids how to build a bee hotel. Most of them did a fabulous job (*cough*the girls*cough*) and left with a home for mason bees that was beautifully decorated and even named. My favorite was The Buzz On Inn.

There were a handful (*cough*theboys*cough) who had no intention of following any sort of directions and built everything from rockets to cowbells. I think their moms made them attend. Still, they were well-behaved and they all left happy. They learned a lot about mason bees whether they wanted to or not. I'm not sure why the library scheduled this program at the end of June when those particular bees are not looking for homes, but we've flooded the bee hotel market with properties and all are welcome. I was able to clean up pretty quickly after the program, and once I'd tucked some things back in their boxes up in the haunted attic, I realized I actually had some...*gasp* unscheduled time. That never happens. I grabbed my book list for July's displays and started pulling from the shelves. Once I had a full cart I slapped up the pitiful decor that I'd made and called it done. In honor of the 4th...

Not my best work, but an appropriate place to display books about Revolutionary War spies, pirates, and women -a little something more than the stuff we learned in history class. George agreed with me.

I designed those silly posters and then printed them at Walgreens. There's almost always a 50% coupon on their website so you can do it for just a couple bucks. Comes in handy if you ever need a poster or a protest sign- I've used it for both.

The second display is awful, so I need to jazz it up a bit. They've taken my bookcase to use for summer reading prize and t-shirt storage, so I'm stuck with this dumb rolling cart.

I think I should add snowflakes or icicles... or just leave it alone because I'm the only one who cares. Actually I'm caring less and less because I PUT IN MY NOTICE. Ohmygosh, I just said it out loud. I have mixed feelings, but it all comes back to the fact that I originally just wanted a volunteer gig, or at most a part-time job. I was not looking for a career or the many, many, many hours of programming, planning, and after-hours work just to keep the place afloat. I really, really didn't want to be a quitter. When people around me were resigning left and right I became more determined to stick it out. But honestly, at this stage of my life my time and my health are precious and this job was sapping both. They've been very kind and have asked what they might be able to change that would make me stay - my kneejerk reaction was, everything. I don't want to leave on a sour note, so I'm just thanking them for the opportunity. I may even propose to them that now that they know my work ethic and I've already been through the background checks and all that - perhaps they'd like me to volunteer now. I could pop in and do the never-ending shelving and even continue the monthly displays. I'd love to do that. Do I expect them to be smart and take advantage of capable and free help? No. I suppose it's time to just put it all in my rearview mirror and appreciate what I've learned. Besides, I just *might* have something even better on the horizon - something that would be on my own time, from my own house, and involve tapping away on this keyboard while my brain spills out ideas. I suppose I've cursed the whole thing by even mentioning it, so I'll stop there and just hope for the best. So that's it. My big news on a Monday is that I won't have to worry about Mondays much longer. This Friday we'll collect the grandgirl for a couple of days, then Matt will fly in on July 1st and we'll all gather to celebrate the 4th. Matt leaves on the 7th (our 40th wedding anniversary!) and Mickey leaves on the 8th for Atlanta to see his mother. She's having a little medical procedure and he's going to be stepping and fetching for her. As of the 8th I'll be home alone, enjoying the silence, and I'll start painting my desk and hutch. Just me, a can of paint, and a true crime podcast...sounds heavenly. I'm finding my groove again. I hope that you're all surviving this awful heat. There's just no reason for it. What good is it? I think the National Weather Service should issue a no brassiere advisory. It's torture. Anywho, things are changing for the better around here, maybe the weather will too. Ever the optimist. Take care of yourselves. Sending out love, take what you need and pass it on. Stay safe, stay well, keep cool. XOXO, Nancy

[brushandneedles]

Jazz Heritage in Your Wardrobe: Collectible Women's Jazz T-Shirts Online

In the harmonious intersection of fashion and music, the concept of collecting Vintage jazz t shirt online transcends mere apparel, evolving into a cherished endeavor of preserving jazz heritage. This journey delves into the art of curating a wardrobe filled with collectible pieces—limited editions, rare finds, and the captivating stories woven into the fabric of each shirt. It's a celebration of not just style, but a curated collection of musical tales that resonate through time.

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[yallcantread]

Sorry for being late, as @sadgirlcoded asked for.. here’s a thread of the 1975/Matty Healy and their acts of activism/support of marginalized communities ranging from tweets, donations, flags, and rants. Im adding emojis to the titles cause I want to. Yep.

Before I begin I want to stress that Matty Healy is known for being an activist, anybody that’s a fan already knows this but if you aren’t a fan and you’ve come across this post (thank you for reading it) then let me just state that fact.

I’m starting this post with a quote from a NME article a journalist made. He said: “Dubai isn’t necessarily the kind of place you’d expect to find Matty Healy: committed hedonist and full-time stoner; wearer of an ever-changing array of threadbare vintage band T-shirts; reigning Greatest Frontman In Pop, and an outspoken champion of women, youth, the environment, minorities and the LGBTQ+ community.”

1. Malaysia’s Good Vibes Festival 🇲🇾

The most recent act of activism I’d say is the situation at Malaysia’s festival. I’m going to link the rant, articles about the rant, the transcript of the rant, and all that jazz.

“What happened?” In my own words, Malaysia is known to be a highly homophobic country, where being gay is considered illegal, and the rights for LGBTQ individuals are severely restricted. For a more in-depth understanding of their laws and the cultural treatment of LGBTQ people, you can find more information here.

I was unaware of the extent of Malaysia’s homophobia until this recent situation unfolded. The band 1975 performed in Malaysia without realizing the country’s stance on LGBTQ rights. Matty, the band’s lead vocalist, acknowledges their mistake and implies that they won’t be returning for future performances in Malaysia.

During the performance, Matty expressed his frustration with the government’s homophobic policies and openly criticized them, sending a strong message against their discriminatory actions. He then decided to rebel against those stupid homophobic laws by grabbing his bandmate Ross and kissing him on stage.

As a result of the band’s actions, the concert had to be cut short by 45 minutes, and the government cancelled the remaining festival, using the 1975’s performance as a pretext, which many see as an unjustified excuse.

Overall, the incident highlights the significant challenges faced by LGBTQ individuals in Malaysia and the importance of raising awareness about LGBTQ rights and equality worldwide.

A quick summary of the situation from a verified source will be right here.

“Where can I watch the rant?” You can watch Matty Healy’s important speech right here.

“How is this activism? Isn’t this disrespectful to the Malaysian government and people? Doesn’t this make it harder for the gay Malaysian community? Isn’t this white savorism?”

No. If you’re interested in my opinion, I’ll provide it at the end of this post as it might be a bit lengthy. However, if you prefer a concise rundown from a journalist’s perspective, then here.

2. Streets of London 🇬🇧

Streets of London is a charity to support the homeless people of London. Matty Healy amongst other famous British singers like Liam Gallagher and Paul McCartney donated money and prizes to the cause. You can read more about this specific project right here.

If you want to donate to the cause I’ll add a link under the title “streets of London” if you’d like to learn about the homeless epidemic in London click right here. While you’re here there’s a homeless epidemic in every western country especially America. If you need any help securing housing let me know the state you live in and I’ll provide some resources!

3. The 1975 helped finance a new LGBTQ+ center in London. 🏳️‍🌈

This one is very very very very important. I should’ve made this the second one following the Malaysian article but I’m not redoing it sorry. A lot of people in the Malaysian incident wrongfully stated that Matty Healy is virtue signaling or is someone that wants to appear like a hero. In this section, Matty talks about how he doesn’t want to appear virtue-signaling. READ IT ALL.

There’s more to the article but I’m going to input all the important bits in the post. If you want to read the full article here it is.

The 1975 have helped finance a new LGBTQ+ community centre for London, making a significant donation that has allowed the project to secure its fundraising target.

Matthew Healy, the band’s frontman, told the Observer: “You might wonder why it is needed, and even ask yourself what exactly is everyone still scared of, but sadly, I think stigma still exists even in London and we still have some way to go.”

Healy, 29, added that he was surprised to find the capital city did not have a place for LGBTQ+ people to meet and support one another. New York, Berlin, Los Angeles and Manchester already have such venues – and London did once. A Gay and Lesbian Centre in Farringdon was shut down in the early 1990s, because of a lack of funding and management disagreements about its core purpose. But now a team of volunteers, including the activist and journalist Michael Segalov, are attempting to set up a new and more welcoming place for London’s large LGBTQ+ community that could have a more stable future.

“When a friend of mine sent me the link, I was quite surprised that such a good idea had not yet raised enough to get over the threshold,” said Healy, “I am a bit wary of talking about it because I don’t want to appear to be virtue-signalling, but me and the others in the band all felt it was obviously a good thing to put our money towards.”

4. Raising awareness towards climate change + Using funds to donate to a environmental movement☀️🌎.

If you’re a fan of the 1975 then you already know how they worked alongside Greta Thunberg, the young climate change activist, and put an iconic and important message in the opening track on the album “Notes on a Conditional Form”

I’m going to link the interview here but I’ll post important bits of it in the thread like I did before. I’ll be doing that throughout this entire post if you haven’t noticed.

In an interview with the Sunday Times Healy, then 31, said that Greta Thunberg had gone to "bigger artists" than the band to work with but had been turned away.

Healy said: “I feel like big statements will be made by pop stars, but they’ll do it when the cultural narrative has massaged a subject enough for it to be not really a statement any more. A narrative needs to be seen as progressive but also safe. I call it ‘workshop woke’.”

Matty Healy described Greta, 17 at the time, as the most punk person he has ever met, adding that he wanted to include her on the album so her voice was "documented in a formal place in pop culture".

The money raised from the track went to environmental movement, Extinction Rebellion.

“What have the 1975 done to make their tours environmentally friendly?” An annoying conservative of the name David Davies (corny lame name for a lame cornball) asked the same silly question. For more context he criticized the 1975 calling them hypocrites for their track on the climate crisis. He condescendingly asked how the band was going to get to these places such as Asia and other continents.

If you want to read that loser’s open letter here it is.

“But what have they done?” The 1975 have taken steps to make their tours more eco-friendly, introducing hybrid-powered generators with solar arrays and sustainably-sourced Hydrotreated Vegetable Oil (HVO) fuel to power shows along with supporting reforestation charities through ticket sales. You can read more about that here.

5. Another article/quote I should’ve put following the Malaysian festival.

This is my all time favorite interview. Read it ALL. A quote made by Matty Healy in regards to going to Dubai, a place known for their human rights violations amongst other things. I’m going to link an article of the things problematic things that Dubai is known for. So you can read that right here.

This part of the post is really important because it highlights how strongly Matty Healy believes in people’s rights and how he has always been outwardly against any homophobic or racist agenda promoted by any country. He has always been known to rebel against the government’s policies.

An interviewer asked Matty if he had emptied his bags and pockets for drugs before going to Dubai. Matty mentioned he had to wait in immigration for an hour and that they had went through every pocket he had. He didn’t bring any drugs. After stating this the interviewer followed with “So drugs are not worth getting arrested for. But principles? That’s a different matter.”

Matty responds with:

““I would go to jail for what I stand for, you know – I feel like I’m in one of the only punk bands in the world,” says Matty. “I’m profoundly anti-religion and I always have been. I don’t agree with a dogmatic, pious adherence to scripture, because I believe that creates more pain for more people on a global level than it does solace for people on the individual level. I think it’s a selfish act. But I also understand that religion and culture are two very, very, very different things. So I understand the idea of if you say to somebody, I don’t know, ‘your religion is stupid’, it can for some people be the equivalent of somebody saying, ‘your face is ugly’, because it’s so deeply ingrained in who they are. I would never come over here and be disrespectful to people to make a point. But I’m never going to not stand up for women. I’m not going to not stand up for gay people. I’m not going to not stand up for minorities. So it’s my job to come out here and…”

The interviewer cuts him off and asks “But you’re going to have to really watch what you say tonight, no?”

Matty responds with “Well, I’m not allowed to have ‘GOD LOVES F*GS’ written on my chest, which I probably am going to. So that will be interesting.”

The interviewer replies with “And risk getting arrested before your headline slot at Reading and Leeds? The big one? The one it’s all been building up to?”

Matty responds with “Yeah, that’s the only thing that I’m thinking. But you know, people need to say this kind of shit, man. There’s not many bands like mine that come to this part of the world. What kid in Dubai, who’s coming to a 1975 show, wants me to say nothing?”

The interview says “But it’s not those kids you have to worry about.

Matty replies with “Well, that’s my job.”

If you want to read that entire interview you can do so here. In this article he also mentions how he wanted to create the 1975 styled hijabs for his Muslim fans.

6. More climate change stuff 🌎☀️

I didn’t want to add it to the other climate change post because I wanted it to be its own individual thing. I also didn’t want to make it too long.

But The 1975 has made strides in creating a more sustainable future for the music industry and fans alike. The 2020 merch was made of upcycled, repurposed older merch that is printed with the latest album art. Alternatively, when touring started back up again, the could bring their existing merchandise and have it printed on for free. The 1975 had also partnered with REVERB to make their touring experiences more sustainable.

Their partnership with REVERB can be read here, please click this link. It’s an entire list of environmental things they’ve done.

7. Women’s rights + Pro-Choice 💪

In the summer of 2019, Alabama’s conservative governor Kay Ivey passed a law that banned abortion at any stages for any reasons including sexual assault and for life saving purposes. Matty Healy was one if not the only male with a platform in the music industry that said something about this law in 2019. Many male actors made a tweet or two here and there but Matty Healy made a passionate speech in Alabama about the ruling. He made it at the “Hangout Music Festival”

He started off by saying “The reason I’m so angry is because I don’t believe [the ban] is about the preservation of life, I believe it’s about the controlling of women.”

He went on to criticise those who passed the law, saying “you are not men of God, you are simply misogynistic wankers.”

He added: “You know what else is important? Freedom for women to do with their reproductive organs what they want.”

You can watch the full speech here.

8. Black Lives Matter/Love If We Made It.

Before I begin I want to state again that I’m a black person. No, I am not secretly Matty Healy like many messages in my inbox keep saying that I am. I’m not even British. But I’m flattered?

Anywho. If you were on the internet during the summer of 2020 then you were aware of the death of George Floyd and the protests that followed after it. To give you a run down, George Floyd was murdered by a police officer even though he had no weapon on him, was obeying orders and hadn’t committed a crime. A police officer by the name of Derek Chauvin choked him with his knee. Even though bystanders and George Floyd himself kept saying he couldn’t breathe Derek Chauvin continued to choke George Floyd. George Floyd’s death caused understandable anger, around this time there were other innocent black people who had their lives taken away due to police brutality. Before George Floyd died a young black woman named Breonna Taylor was wrongfully murdered in March of 2020, the police had issued a no knock warrant on her apartment the police shot through her home instantly killing her with one of the bullets. So with all this happening so closely together clearly there was tension growing between police and the public more specifically the black community.

Many white people like Matty Healy voiced their support for the black community and protestors. He shamed those claiming that “all lives matters.” Before the deaths of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd, in October of 2018 the 1975 created an amazing song called “Love It If We Made It” the song isn’t one of those songs that are baseless and run along the lines of “racism is bad. black people are rad!” or some other corny stuff that has no actual purpose but to pander. If you listen to the song and look at the lyrics it talks about sexual assault, systematic racism, the prison industry and how it profits off of black men, police brutality and more on. The song basically is saying that even though all these messed up horrible things are happening, the song title and chorus saying “I’d love it if we made it” is showing a hopeful and optimistic message basically saying it will get better.

Around the time George Floyd died Matty had tweeted the following:

So, this song caused quite a controversy, and I vividly remember that day on Twitter. It was disheartening to witness how low and desperate some people went just to gain retweets. Let me clarify what I mean by ‘low and pathetic.’ I’m not talking about those who genuinely brought awareness to the situation; I’m referring to individuals who tweeted just for the sake of it, seeking attention and validation.

This behavior is unfortunately common on Twitter whenever a tragedy occurs. Instead of focusing on the actual issue at hand, some individuals choose to preemptively call out others or engage with troll/bait accounts just to showcase their cleverness. It seems as though they are more interested in getting a viral tweet than in contributing constructively to the conversation.

Whether it’s a tragic incident like a drug overdose or police brutality, some people seem to prioritize their online presence over genuine empathy and thoughtful engagement. Rather than blocking unhelpful accounts, they choose to engage in unproductive exchanges, which only perpetuate negativity.

As an example, let’s consider a situation where someone has tragically died from a drug overdose. It’s disheartening to observe how certain individuals with a significant number of followers on Twitter would suddenly tweet things like “don’t tell the family of xyz how to grieve; let them grieve on their own time!” even though no one had actually made such insensitive comments to begin with. Similarly, they might post, “why am I seeing people talking about how xyz deserved to die because he took those drugs?” when in reality, no legitimate non-troll account had said anything of that nature.

Furthermore, these individuals may deliberately twist the meaning of innocent statements just to gain retweets and attention. For instance, if someone were to innocently mention, “man, drugs are so scary,” they might quote-tweet it with “why are you making his death about drugs?” The tweet then gains thousands of retweets, and people start labeling the original poster as a horrible person based on the out-of-context quote.

This behavior on Twitter exemplifies a disturbing trend of seeking validation and attention through manipulating sensitive situations. It undermines genuine empathy and thoughtful discussion, instead promoting a culture of unnecessary outrage and divisiveness.

If you’re familiar with Twitter, you probably know what I’m referring to. However, if you’re not on Twitter, it might seem absurd and overwhelming.

During the time of George Floyd’s death, there was a lot of discourse and discussions on the platform. Unfortunately, much of the conversation seemed performative, with people sharing opinions just for retweets and validation. The way these tweets were phrased and how people reacted to others’ tweets revealed their intentions.

At that time, the discourse predominantly revolved around police brutality and George Floyd, and any deviation from that topic would often result in attacks. People would reply to your tweets with condescending remarks like “hello?? read the room” or other judgmental statements to make you appear selfish or ignorant. Even on personal occasions like birthdays, people expected consistent tweeting about George Floyd or police brutality.

This behavior created an atmosphere where genuine conversations and empathy were overshadowed by a desire for online recognition. It became difficult for people to have meaningful discussions about a wide range of topics without fear of backlash or being labeled as insensitive.

I recall a situation where a user on Twitter got upset with me because someone had formed a moment of silence or something similar for George Floyd, I believe. During that moment, people were supposedly not “allowed to tweet,” but I did tweet something unrelated, and I ended up being labeled as a horrible person.

Looking back, it seemed amusing at the time, but it was also incredibly absurd.

This is basically what happened with Matty. During this time Matty tweeted the above photo, people attacked him and said things along the lines of “why are you making George Floyd’s death about you?” “Why are you using his death to get clicks??” or other crazy things. I remember this day vividly cause I defended him. They’d tweet things like “Matty Healy using the death of innocent blank people to promote his music is disgusting” when clearly that was not what he was doing. And those people knew it.

Because of this Matty deleted the tweet and made a new one (I’m horrible at adding photos to tumblr I’m young but this site still confuses me even though i was frequent on here in 2013 so I’m copy and pasting the tweet)

“@Truman_Black: Sorry i did not link my song in that tweet to make it about me it's just that the song is literally about this disgusting situation and speaks more eloquently than i can on twitter XXX”

Then he replied to the tweet with the song link, but later after facing more backlash he deactivated his twitter. When asked why he stated he didn’t want to be used as a pawn in a culture war.

I was going to add a bunch of tweets that matty had made years ago but for some odd reasons the tweets are cropped and i can’t post them to where they’ll show all the way. Sorry guys I’m really shit

If there’s something I missed send it to me and I’ll add it!

Also here’s my opinion on the Malaysian festival and Matty kissing Ross.

My thoughts:

In case anyone wants to debate with me, I want to make my position clear:

Idk if you can swear on here but F word 🇲🇾. Malaysian government’s homophobic stance is unacceptable, and anyone defending such a country’s discriminatory policies deserves criticism. Matty Healy’s act of kissing his bandmate does not hinder progress towards gay rights. The real issue lies in the government’s foundation on religion, particularly when religious beliefs are used to oppress people. As long as religion is the forefront of your laws, you will never have rights. And you know it. People want someone to blame instead of admitting that religion is the problem. It’s easier to blame Matty Healy then blaming the system you were instilled to believe in.

People’s rights and the ability to love who they want are of paramount importance, and they should take precedence over religion. We know that gay and trans individuals exist and are human beings, while the existence of God remains unproven. It’s perplexing how the lack of evidence for something can lead to numerous human rights violations, wars, and deaths.

Matty Healy’s actions were commendable, and it is not “white saviorism.” The term itself is often misused and is stupid. It came from that dumb tumblr blog “your fave is problematic.” The Malaysian government tries to manipulate public opinion, making it crucial to stay critical and not be swayed by their attempts to evoke pity or misconstrue the issue as a matter of cultural disrespect.

Even if you’re Malaysian Idrc lol. A person named O'Shae Sibley was dancing to Beyoncé this month outside of a gas station and these group of men came up to him and told him to stop dancing, then one of the men proceeded to STAB him. He got murdered just because he was dancing to Beyoncé. That’s homophobia. And you want to know why they asked him to stop dancing, “A witness, Summy Ullah, told the Daily News the young men had been harassing Sibley's group because their behavior offended them.

“They were saying, ‘Oh, we’re Muslim, so don’t do this in front of me,’” said Ullah, 32.

Ullah added, “Nothing else was going on. They were only dancing.” He said someone asked, "Why are you dancing in your underwear?”

I don’t know why religion ever took precedent over someone’s sexuality but let me be clear, your right to religion doesn’t trump over someone’s right to love who they love and to be happy with who they are.

Homophobic government isn’t just “wahh gay people can’t get married” it’s “oh a man was walking in a feminine way, so i murdered him.” And the government siding with the homophobic person that murdered the random stranger. Homophobia is extremely dangerous. If a government is homophobic, most likely they’re misogynistic as well. They see femininity or any form of being feminine as a threat. There’s nothing wrong with being feminine and there’s nothing wrong with liking the same sex. People deserve better, not religions and not God but people. People we can feel and touch.

You aren’t entitled to feel comfortable, if your right to feel comfortable trumps someone’s right to love who they wanna love then you have no right to comfortability.

[thesinglesjukebox]

HOZIER - "TOO SWEET"

I believe when that happens you can add something acidic to the dish to balance it out (lemon juice, vinegar, blurbs, etc.)...

[5.15]

Hannah Jocelyn: “Feel It Still” once more, with less feeling! [5]

Leah Isobel: This is not sexy! This is the audio equivalent of that one twig-looking Tumblr daddy dom wearing his uncle's work shirt! This is the most desperate balding guy at the bar hitting on you! He's never taken a sip of straight whiskey without grimacing and his hair grows out in patches! He listens to that first Fleet Foxes record alone in his apartment and cries because he never made it as a cool Brooklyn folkie when that was a viable career path! Get a real job! [2]

Alfred Soto: I have never wanted to smell like a bonfire -- that shit just happens if you're in the woods and the rules allow you to make one -- so I don't know what this purring panderer is on about other than using verbal aikido on his lover. On the other hand, the bass line grooves. That this stew topped the American chart says something about novelty. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Far too confident in its bassline. It's high in the mix and clearly meant to carry the song, but it's just kind of ugly? At first it's manageable: the arrangement quietly blossoms so that every instrument hangs off it like a flower on a branch. And then it becomes too much: we move from one passage to the next with little care for dynamics, as if all that matters is the dun dun dun, dun dun dun. [3]

Mark Sinker: Pretty grumpy the currently active TayTay energy field is requiring me to pay greater attention than normal to the words in a song (any attention at all): “You treat your mouth as if it’s Heaven’s Gate / The rest of you like you’re the TSA!” Old-times Hozier leant instead into a bunch of the most over-known jazz cuts as a signal-shortcut; better by far to be invoking weirdo space death-cults and oppressive govt security agencies to make yr little point -- you’re hot for a rules-loving gal! proud outlaw that you utterly are! “You can sit in a barrel!’ And OK, the serenely self-absorbed clumsiness is actually the same thing either time, his narcistic unawareness the whole of this vocal, but at least this couplet has the free pass of inadvertent opacity. The Hale-Bopp don’t stop!  [4]

Taylor Alatorre: Who wrote these lyrics, the Women's Christian Temperance Union circa 1905? Back then, the narrator of "Too Sweet" would've been a cautionary poster child for the domestic discord caused by excessive drink. But we're in a post-21st Amendment world now, and the more pressing social ill at hand... is that my girl doesn't want to party all the time. It's such a ridiculous premise that it has an unlikely liberatory effect, freeing Hozier from his endemic dourness and letting him play as the lovable asshole, whose assholishness is thankfully of the low-stakes, take-it-or-leave-it kind. The mandatory blues-rock inflections are smoothed out to the point of being rubberized, a snub to purism that proves a suitable match for Hozier's role as the all-too-tamable sort of danger. None of this negates the song's fundamental slightness, but the clever-stupid "TSA" line indicates that slightness might have been what he was aiming for anyway. [6]

Ian Mathers: I mean, obviously it's both fine on its own (if not particularly spectacular) and also weird that this and not "Take Me to Church" is his first #1, but I'm sorry, I just can't get over there being a hit song that finally speaks proudly for those of us that have trouble falling asleep at a so-called "civilized" hour (although honestly even 3 is a bit early, if I really had my druthers).  [6]

Harlan Talib Ockey: To be a Hozier fan is to know pain. One set of bonus tracks better than their parent album is a shame. Two is a migraine. Three starts to feel like sabotage, on some level. Is he or his label so averse to rockin’ out that his most interesting, guitar-heavy tracks are almost always relegated to B-sides? Justice for “In the Woods Somewhere”. Whither “Jackboot Jump”, which never even got a studio recording? “Too Sweet” may not have Hozier’s most intricate lyrical storytelling, but it does have a clear narrative, a strong vocal performance, and an infectious bassline. And I feel vindicated seeing one of his lost rock songs succeed, which is the important part. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: Producer Bekon cannot be stopped. He has summoned the power of Sergiu Gherman (Garden (Say It Like Dat)), Peter Gonzales ("Leave") and Chakra, ("Bali"). Now he has notched a number one hit. Bekon is unstoppable right now. Stop playing with his name. [10]

Daniel Monteshenko: "Hell yeah, another smash hit!" - people making playlists for second-rate denim emporiums [3]

Isabel Cole: Is it really so crazy to posit that a song about an unrepentant appreciation for the earthy side of earthly existence should, I don’t know, fuck a little? What’s even the point of a paean to late nights that would slot seamlessly into any coffee shop’s opening hours playlist? Where’s the hunger in this ode to appetites? Where's the life in the call to live? And what in god’s name is that TSA line supposed to mean? I mean, I know, it’s connoting constant vigilance about what’s allowed to enter, but the phrasing calls to mind someone who insists on doing a pat-down before sex. Similarly, the grape line that appears in the final verse suggests that the titular “too sweet” is supposed to convey a certain untouched freshness, or a lack of life experience, but placing it in the chorus right after a line about black coffee sets up an implied contrast that makes the metaphor feel like it’s breaking, because, like, be serious: we all know the my-body-is-a-temple crowd has been off sugar for years. [4]

Katherine St. Asaph: I said last month that this sounded like a Danger Mouse take on "Be My Baby," and I stand by that! You don't have to believe a word of this song to recognize the appeal in that. [6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Hozier back to doing what he does best: making songs designed to soundtrack fancams of fictional vampires.  [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[murdcrofcrows]

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full name: zelda katherine adair nicknames: tbd gender / pronouns: demi-girl, she/they age & birthday: 30, march 21st occupation: jazz singer at godfather house of blues, ethical hacker affiliation: executioners, vigilante orientation & status: homosexual kinsey scale 6, single strengths: bold, protective, outspoken, friendly, talented weaknesses: overzealous, paranoid, impulsive, sarcastic, rash character inspo: nomi (sense8), darlene (mr. robot), allison hargreeves (the umbrella academy), mika (orphan black), mindy meeks-martin (scream vi), raven reyes (the 100), abby sciuto (ncis), jynn urso (rogue one), fox mulder (the x-files)

- diving deeper

* ◟ : 〔 jasmin savoy brown , demi-woman + she/they 〕 ZELDA ADAIR , some say you’re a THIRTY YEARS OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both BOLD and PARANOID , one can’t help but think of NO COMPLAINTS by NOAH KAHAN when you walk by. are you still a JAZZ SINGER , HACKER / VIGILANTE at GODFATHER HOUSE OF BLUES / EXECUTIONERS, even with your reputation as THE ICARIAN? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and LATE NIGHT CLICKING OF A MECHANICAL KEYBOARD, A FACE ILLUMINATED BY BLUE LIGHT IN AN OTHERWISE DARK ROOM, LIVING MULTIPLE LIVES, EIGHTIES & NINETIES VINTAGE T-SHIRTS, AND INSOMNIA INDUCED BLANKET FORTS & MOVIE MARATHONS, although we can’t help but think of ALLISON HARGREEVES (THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY), DARLENE (MR. ROBOT), MINDY MEEKS-MARTIN (SCREAM VI), NOMI (SENSE8), MIKA (ORPHAN BLACK) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

BACKGROUND.

tw: infertility

born in roanoke, virginia to ruth and clarence adair. ruth, a teacher, named her zelda katherine after katherine johnson a world renowned mathematician and one of the first african american women to work as a nasa scientist. her father, a senior game developer in his own company, picked zelda after one of his all-time favorite video games that inspired him to create his games and company.

it's safe to say they both expected great things from their only child. they'd wanted more, but as time went on and conditions of the world worsened the subsequent attempts failed. this was something that seemed to upset zelda more than her parents growing up, as it always felt incredibly lonely in her world.

school always went well for zelda in terms of performance. she was exceptionally good in science, math, and technology. computers were her top interest, but she also enjoyed her extracurriculars like theater, choir, and track. she even reinstated and led the paranormal club, another hobby of hers that carried on well past high school.

because of their academic prowess they were able to get a scholarship to nyu and mixed with their college fund it was feasible for her to actually go. it was hard to say goodbye to everything she knew but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and there wasn't anything truly holding them back except maybe her parents. everyone has to leave the nest eventually, right?

zelda had been excited for college, to be out on her own in a big city and with the freedom to meet new people, learn new things, and maybe start building a life. though she always had a problem with dreaming big and reaching for the stars without a space suit on.

some of the things she hoped for came true, she did learn new things. lots of new things. in fact life became a series of lessons, some good and some bad, that never really stopped. unable to blossom in the social department they focused on their studies and it paid off in the form of a paid internship at stoneage industries. it was there they started on a project, creating a replicant code meant to be able to fulfill a hole similar to the one that was in her own family. perhaps even make it so they could age, and develop just like any other human. give them free will which was against the mold but she didn't care.

unfortunately she wasn't as experienced as she should've been in order to be advancing code like she was trying to do. zelda should've stuck to the basics instead of trying to reach for the stars but she didn't, she wanted to do something great ( and if you ask her, she did ). link was great, his code a little off but that's what made him special - he could ( kind of ) think for himself and even if he had a few bugs, it wasn't like she couldn't fix them. all code had bugs to be worked out.

she didn't get a chance to do that at stoneage, however. in fact, the longer she worked for stoneage the more she realized just how barbaric they were. one thing was certain, there was no way she was going to let them destroy her creation brother, just because his code was a little off - she could fix that, she knew she could. he had feelings, he was her family. so, she quit stoneage and declined continuing on in the masters program at school. her and link found an apartment where they could live in peace ( hopefully ).

each of them were able to get a job at godfather house of blues, that way they could each make money and she could keep an eye out for and on link. she made extra money doing hacker/coding work on the side and in her spare time did a lot of ethical hacking, primarily chasing those trying to hurt others, especially the innocents of the world. like link, like she was once upon a time.

it was through that work she was discovered by the executioners. of course she agreed with their cause and while she'd never work for the government again, she would still like to see the crime in the city stop. her days and nights are spent in a roundabout between all these positions, all the while trying to keep blade runners from catching on to them and still attempting to live a normal life. at this point, though, she had no clue what tomorrow would bring.

QUICK CONNECTIONS.

college friends / rivals

people who knew her when she worked at stoneage

people suspicious of link

fans of jazz music

failed dates ( female only )

best friend (s)

other executioners

replicant sympathizers

HEADCANONS.

lives in a two bedroom apartment with her brother link. she has outfitted the place with a make-shift security system in an attempt to protect them, though it's always a toss-up if link will remember the code or to set it when he leaves.

she can regularly be found on forums online dedicated to paranormal, aliens, conspiracies, and, of course, replicants. the former items have been a lifelong hobby - the latter has been since she created link. she runs a blog specifically themed to paranormal / alien / cryptid stories, sightings, and reports.

zelda fell out of contact with her parents when things really started going south in the world in terms of environment, etc. they refused to leave roanoke and she is afraid she'll never talk to them again.

her hair changes a lot, color, style, etc. some would think it's to evade anyone looking for her and link, but really it's because it's her way of letting out expression or rebelling against society in general

more coming...

[jeremiasmerch]

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[badbadnotgoodmerch]

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[lucyadresearchlab]

Week 7 - 4th November Outfit Developments

I wanted my designs to be inclusive while also maintaining the cohesiveness I wanted.

For the first member I dressed them in a baggy t-shirt and long baggy shorts to keep with the tom-boy and casual style I wanted for this character. I took inspiration from existing artists such as Billie Eilish such as when it came to the baggy clothes which she is usually seen wearing. I then took inspiration from both the Britpop and hip-hop genres and dressed the character in sports style trainers, almost high top style to keep with that sporty casual style. I made sure to keep this characters clothing quite loose fitting so potential fans who might feel more comfortable in loose fitted clothing would feel represented. I also made sure to keep this characters outfit and look as gender neutral as possible to ensure fans of all genders felt like they were represented by a character.

For the second member I took inspiration from the likes of Stevie Nicks and Kate Bush and dressed the character in more flowy clothing to fit with the Hippie style I had aimed for. I kept the clothing quite full coverage so fans who might feel more comfortable covered up for reasons regarding personal comfort or religion felt like they were being considered. I used a similar colour scheme to the colours used for the first member so the band would still look cohesive.

For the third member I took inspiration from artists such as Harry Styles, Taylor Swift and Chappell Roan which were all artists mentioned in the questionnaire results I received. I also took inspiration from movements relating to music like the 1920s Jazz/Flappers era where women started wearing more revealing clothing. I wanted this character to represent that so for fans that felt more comfortable or even empowered dressing like that felt like they were also being represented. Because I was taking inspiration from pop artists that were mainly female the outfit I put this character in naturally came out to be more girly or female presenting, however this wouldn't mean that this character is strictly for women or female presenting fans.

For the final member I dressed them in flares, either jean or leather flares which I was inspired by both the Glam Rock an Punk eras. I then just put them in a baggy t-shirt, mainly using darker colours as this member in particular was inspired by the grunge of the 90s and rock genres. I also put this member in boots as that is something that is common in the genres and styles that inspired this character and it also tied in with the boots that I put the second member in to keep it cohesive. Although this member is more male presenting I still dressed them in clothing that people of all genders could wear and would feel comfortable in to keep that androgenous theme that is common in the Punk, Grunge and Glam Rock genres.

Overall I think that my design has been inclusive, I tried to make it as diverse as possible and represent as many genders, sexualities as possible or at least take those things into consideration when designing the clothing. I also made sure to consider religion and how clothing can play a role in that so I made sure that there were members that were dressed more conservatively or covered up.

However having only 4 member obviously limited how diverse I could be in the clothing as I was trying to represent as many communities as possible in four outfits which is quite hard, although in the future I would like the experiment with dressing the characters in more ways.