#philly lookin out for his boi

[maribird444]

the way phil’s inner dad unleashed when dan held up the trimmers😭😭

[itstheheebiejeebies]

last line tags

thank you @reallylilyreally for the tag

So this is from the tentative sequel to What Happens on Leave which I'm still in very early development with

Ev was doing his best, he was doing everything he’d been trained to do and everything he’d learned on his own since he started flying missions to try and keep their girl flying steady. He was losing the battle, she was fighting him at every opportunity.

What if he couldn’t do it, what if he couldn’t bring her home, what if he failed his boys?

His boys. He wanted so badly to touch the mark Jamie had left on him before their mission, wanted that reassurance they were in this together in a way that went beyond the walls of their plane, that they trusted him with everything they had. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t risk taking a hand off for even a split second.

This is from my Flak House sequel to You Can't Be Dead, I Won't Allow It

“I can’t sleep, you mind if I?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bubbles moved to the side to let Harry into the room.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, he wanted to just climb in and sleep but he was already imposing on Joey’s sleep, he didn’t want to assume he was welcome to do so even if they’d sat up with each other a dozen times before since the loops.

And this is from Healing Hands, my upcoming Roe fic

Eugene dropped onto one of the benches they’d pulled together to have a place to rest and ripped his helmet off, letting it clatter to the ground as he flung it down. He scrubbed his hand through his hair and over his face. Ralph brought his hand to his friend’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, he knew there was nothing to say, not yet anyway. He’d let Gene take the lead here, he’d comfort him however he needed but not until he’d been made aware of how he was needed.

“He never had a chance. I told him he’d live. I knew it was a lie, and I said it anyway.”

“Sometimes that’s the only good you can do. You gotta keep the faith, or at least pretend you do, so that they keep fighting.”

“Still don’t feel right,” he muttered head hanging heavy in his hands.

Spina squeezed Gene’s shoulder, “If he never had a chance then he was best served by you. You’re the only medic I’ve ever met who could get a guy in real rough shape to calm. You got a gift, Gene. You might not like it, you might not see it, but you do. He was gonna die, but you made it as decent a death as he could have just by being there.”

“Babe was there, he was on the patrol.”

Suddenly concerned by the non sequitur, Ralph asks “He okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, he’s… he’s fine. Not hurt. But he seemed rattled by it all. He’ll probably come lookin’ later.”

“Shit, you scared me with that Gene,” he shook the other medic gently, “you really gotta learn not to do that. Made me think I was the last guy from Philly left around here.”

“Sorry,” he meant it, he didn’t like worrying Spina, “I just wanted you to know to keep an eye out.”

“What if you keep the eye out, I can finish up your shift here. You can go sack out, or at least not worry about getting called again for the night.”

“I dunno, I’m not here for that much longer. And the patrol’s over. It’ll probably be quiet.”

“All the more reason. You won’t be needed, so you can trust I’ve got it. Just take a break Gene. You never do. Let me take it over tonight.”

He nodded his agreement and headed out to where they’re billeted.

Tag you're it: @ktredshoes @impalachick @oatflatwhite @deanology101

[lewis-winters]

Day 2: Impossible

part of my OC-tober 2022!

tw: internalized transphobia/queerphobia, a few slurs (one of which is reclaimed while one is used by a trans character as part of her internalized transphobia), period typical queerphobia, and mention of police brutality against queer folk in 1940s-60s.

Floyd left five minutes ago to get her a glass of water from the kitchen. He’s still there, currently, laughing up a storm with Babe, Nat’s glass still in his grip, his hand protectively covering the top out of reflex. Usually, Nat wouldn’t mind him taking his sweet time—he never does it quite enough, she thinks. Always bouncing back to her like an elastic band when he’s away for longer than he thinks is necessary, be it at home or here, visiting the Philly faction of their company. He deserves a little time with friends, at least. But in this very moment, she silently hopes Floyd would hurry the fuck up; Bill’s currently in the process of talking her ears off, and there’s only so much of it Nat can take before she takes a page out of Johnny’s book and does something asshole-ish. Like take the man’s crutch and hide it somewhere he can’t get it without help. Maybe the attic.

"I'm just sayin', Morse, if ya wanna get 'round Philly with no trouble, just get ol' Gonorrhea to escort ya and he'll keep ya safe."

Natalie scoffs. "If there's somethin' I don' wan' followin' me around anywhere, Sarge, it's gonorrhea," she says, tipping her head into her hand to hide the small groan of annoyance. How does Frannie deal with this day by day? He’s impossible. "And I told ya already: a girl like me draggin' 'round a man no matter who will definitely draw more attention than castin' it away."

"'Ey, wassat s'ppose to mean?" Bill grumbles. Though his original tone had carried along with it some humor, by now it's all gone. Replaced entirely by a concern that's got his brow all crumpled up in a scowl and his eyes all darkened with endless scenarios. Each one more sinister than the last. "Some bum givin' ya trouble?”

"Still amazes me that ya'll Philly boys always manage to answer ya'lls own dumbass questions with more dumbass questions," Nat marvels, shaking her head. "Nah, Sarge. Nothin' like that—not yet anyway. I’m a freak. I’m a girl with a cock, and I've heard enough stories o' fruits like me on the wrong side of a cop club or fists to know walkin' outside at any time o' day lookin’ like how I look—alone or no—jus’ ain't worth whatever it is ya out for."

"Yeesh, no wonder you'se all cooped up," Bill hisses, sympathetic, scowl digging in deeper. "Listen, Morse, I ain't the kind to get between a fella and his girl—"

"Unlikely. But go on."

"I'm gonna go ahead an' ignore the implications of that rude interruption," Bill huffs, though he does smile. Only a bit. Once he drops it, he's back to being serious. He continues; "Talbert's all worried 'bout ya. And whatever gots him worried gots all o' us worried, ya know?"

"Ugh," Nat groans, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Ya'll talkin' 'bout me behind my back now? Did Floyd put ya up to this?" Suddenly, the very long time he’s spending getting her a glass of water makes sense. The traitor.

Bill waves that off, though, determined to say his piece. "All I'm sayin' 's when Tab's all worried 'bout ya, then Arthur's all worried, and when Arthur's all worried—"

"I get it."

Bill shrugs, finally propping his crutches up next to the table to leave his hands free for his stump, that seems to be cramping. As he massages it, his mouth runs; “’M jus’ sayin’. It ain’t safe for you out there—”

Natalie scoffs. “’S why I stay inside—”

Bill cuts her off. “I know you’re scared,” he says, bluntly, shaking his head. “Hell, I’m scared too—Nixon an’ Winters ain’t the only ones keepin’ an eye out for ya. When somethin’ happens, people call me first, ya know. Not Winters. I mean, they’ll only do that if somethin’ ever happened t’ you or Tab, but I’ll still get that call, ya know? And I can’t shake the idea that one day, I’ll get a call, and it’ll be about you beaten bloody in some jail cell or. Or worse.”

He fixes her with one of those rare, grim expressions of his. The kind that comes with a chilling sort of clarity that looks too out of place on his face after years of housing nothing but a passing shadow of confusion and instant dismissal for her every time they so much as met each other’s gaze across the mess hall or in the middle of maneuvers. Now, he’s looking again, letting it be known that he can see her, and Nat can’t fathom it. This being seen so thoroughly by Bill Guarnere.

There was a point in time where she wanted nothing to do with him, convinced that he was one of those men who wouldn’t hesitate to put a fist through her face the second he found out what she really was. A part of her, the frightened part that runs on the fumes of anxiety, still thinks he is. But he’s proven himself a good man. Though he still has the tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, he’s still trying. That’s more than she’s ever asked from him.

She owes him some honesty. “Or worse,” Nat echoes, turning away to look at the ground. The curtains. The kitchen, where Floyd is still laughing, so handsome and so kind and so loving and so stupid, devoted to a tranny who could do nothing but bring ruin to his good name. Nat swallows, hard. “You know why I stay inside.”

“I know,” Bill says, so gentle. Nat doesn’t think he’s ever heard him so gentle; it makes something in the corners of her eyes grow warm. “It’s not safe for ya. But Natalie—” she turns to him, surprised. He smiles at her; “let us make it safe. We can do that for ya, ya know? You’re one of us, still. A sister. Ain’t it a brothers’ job to take care of their sister?”

A beat. “You,” Nat begins with a rasp. “You called me Natalie.”

“That’s your name, ain’t it?” Bill laughs, not unkindly. “Natalie.”

“It is,” she replies, for lack of anything else to say. Then, she does something she never thought she’d do for Bill Guarnere. She smiles. “You just want us to move to Philly, don’tcha?”

“C-Can’t fault a man for tryin’,” Bill blinks, his smile slipping for just a fraction before coming back in full force. “Did Frannie tell ya there’s an apartment—”

“You’ll have to fight Nix for custody.”

“He’ll give ya away for a crate of Vat 69.”

“The man’s tryna get sober.”

“A bottle, then. And a pack o’ luckies.”

“Ya know what?” Nat says, brightly. “That might actually work.”

Then, she laughs, and Bill can no longer hide his surprise—he’s never heard her laugh at any of his jokes, before.

[bigbrotherlouis]

i’m obsessed with joel farabee and morgan frost and you should be too: a primer

hello! welcome! recently i have become infatuated with morgan frost and joel farabee for a lot of reasons but mostly because of that one post that i spent like twenty minutes searching various blogs for that said “people are freaking out about sexualising hockey players, meanwhile joel farabee is one instagram comment away from telling morgan frost he’d suck him dry.” in my head rent free. hit a girl up if you have the post.

anyway! frosty and beezy:

[hard cut to me whispering “oh my god even their nUMBERS are friends” i’m fine.]

this is more like about vibes and less about facts, so you can google if you want to know more about their, like, bios and stats and stuff that’s not 99% rpf or conjecture. this primer is just the things that make me scream. however, that being said, they do play well on a line together and both are very good players.

joel farabee is american, from new york i believe but his dad is from philly, and falls neatly into the category of BORN TO BE A FLYER. longtime fan, hugely excited to play for the team, brings it up all the time.

morgan frost, from ontario canada, was not.

a real, actual tweet. he tweeted this with his WHOLE chest and then joined the flyers like three years later. i adore it. another real actual tweet i adore:

sweet, sweet joel. he misses his buddies :( no doubt including morgan because they are, by all appearances, obsessed with each other. i’m trying not to keep  using the word obsessed in this primer but it’s hard because they are. morgan’s a year older, a first round draft pick in 2017 and joel’s a first round pick in 2018, but they didn’t start playing together until 2019, i believe, because joel played for a college team in boston. side note: he also captained team usa and wore a number 28 in honour of claude giroux and i am absolutely not okay about it.

e! mo! tion! al! incidentally, frosty wears danny briere’s number when he plays for the flyers, which. take from that what you will. iykyk. their NUMBERS are FRIENDS. HERITAGE SOULMATES. joel’s been called up to play on the flyers (and did really well in the playoffs!) but we’re still waitin’ for morgan to come along too but the coaching staff hasn’t recognised the raw power of true love yet so.

at this point, you’re probably saying “sasha shut up about their fucking numbers and talk about why they’re obsessed with each other” but good news! i do not need to do that because the official flyers media has done that for me! (x) i’d recommend watching it because it’s a lot packed into a neat 100 seconds, but notable moments include the voice over saying “joel farabee and morgan frost have found that going at it together has its benefits” within the first thirty seconds. that is a real direct quote. i can’t believe it either. there’s also a lot of light homoerotic bonding over playing chel, them sitting across from each other  on their beds, the admission of being ROOMMATES (oh my god they were roommates), this shot of them sitting with their mouths wide open on either side of their dad,

and also joel wearing a hat with a canadian maple leaf on it, despite being from the the united states. wonder where he got that from. please watch the video.

when they’re not playing chel or, you know, going at it together, they’re being horny in each other’s instagram comments. there’s honestly.... so many of these that i can include but we’re just gonna go with my favourites.

when i say i think about this comment on a picture of morgan with isaac ratcliffe, a fellow flyers prospect on a daily basis, i mean it. i’ll be just doing my thing, minding my own business, and MORGAN MAKES ME VENMO HIM JUST TO TALK will pop into my head, completely uninvited. king shit for morgan to do and king shit for joel to admit on social media for the world to see, but joel admitting things he maybe shouldn’t is a running theme. 

cool. TOTALLY not flirting or anything.

joel. also both their exhibitionist streaks should be explored in fic more i am JUST sayin.

ok but bee you were lookin. like you can chirp but you were lookin, don’t lie. 

when ur in love with ur roommate but ur both hockey players so u can only communicate that love via chirping when he’s with the boys :(

what’s it called when you vibe really well with someone and also live with them and also comment on their shirtlessness and also maybe kiss them on the mouth a little? d... da... dating?? can’t be it.

morgan is a little more composed in the comments and mostly just posts inside jokes i cannot comprehend, or compliments. it’s still cute.

this was on a playoffs pic where joel’s wearing #28 love 2 see it love a supportive boyf always

this one was of joel with a fish he caught and i’m sorry but i did not want it on my phone.

but morgan can’t hide his affection for long. (me, in the distance: TWENTY EIGHT TWENTY EIGHT TWENTY EIGHT!!!!!!!)

there’s more comments but they’re boring and this is long, mostly joel chirping  morgan for wearing baseball or football stuff. however! they are also on twitter where they keep each other humble after incredible goals, like bros do,

this is DEFINITELY flirting. like, blatant. it’s like that kind of flirting when you’re thirteen and you don’t know what to do with your body so you just kinda steal your crush’s stuff or insult them because all attention is good attention, right??

but when push comes to shove, beezy is always gonna look out for his boy (because they are in love):

some important pictures of them together, for your pleasure: 

this is so DUMB and i love it

friends supporting friends!!!

this is them meeting their hockey dads :) so cute :) joel is promising g that he’ll have morgan back by ten yessir he will be respectful of boundaries and curfew. jake is high fiving morgan on getting some. this is facts i just call em like i see em.

and finally!

is this allowed?????  is this allowed???? it’s hard to tell but i’m pretty sure that’s joel on his knees for in front of morgan and i just??? how is that allowed???? it’s been five days and this picture has RUINED me. someone write me an essay to have on my desk by morning, stat.

also v unrelated but here is a video of morgan frost reading, proving he’s the smart one in the relationship. that’s not saying much but, hey! at least there’s proof he can read.

obviously different ships capture people in different ways but there’s something about them to me, personally, that is just so captivating. there’s a lot of potential for different fic vibes, and joel in particular always has a really fun voice to read (and also to write). they definitely have chemistry, they’re pitted against each other so there’s a good-natured rivalry going on, CLOTHES SHARING AND HERITAGE SOULMATE NUMBERS, and, like, they just genuinely seem to enjoy each other. someone PLEASE write more fic for them or by god i’ll have to do it myself.

ok that’s everything for now, i believe. they’re in love and don’t care who knows it and i’m obsessed. (however, i’m also obsessed with joel farabee and andrei svechnikov together, for which i have a one-picture argument for here.)

(p.s. anything not linked i screenshotted myself thank youuu for reading have a good day and remember: morgan makes joel vemno him just to talk 😌)

edit: hello. i wrote this on election night as a way to take off the edge of my nerves and it is not as funny or screechy as i wanted it to be so i’m going to add some now.  

[eclogues]

Well they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night Now they blew up his house too Down on the boardwalk they're gettin' ready for a fight Gonna see what them racket boys can do Now there's trouble busin' in from outta state And the D.A. can't get no relief Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade And the gamblin' commissions hangin' on by the skin of its teeth Everything dies baby that's a fact Maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Well I got a job and tried to put my money away But I got debts that no honest man can pay So I drew what I had from the Central Trust And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus Everything dies baby that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold But with you forever I'll stay We're goin' out where the sands turnin' to gold now Put on your stockin's cause the nights gettin' cold and Everything dies, baby, that's a fact but maybe Everything that dies someday comes back Now I been lookin' for a job but it's hard to find Down here it's just winners and losers and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line Well I'm tired of comin' out on the losin' end So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him Well I guess everything dies baby that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City And meet me tonight in Atlantic City And meet me tonight in Atlantic City And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

[janiedean]

Ahhh if it's possible for the Springsteen Birthday Extravaganza, I keep thinking how I would love a Moonlight Motel/JB fic SO MUCH but maybe with a less sad ending (yes I am still on my Western Stars bullshit after an entire year)

That would be AMAZING, but if fic inspo is not striking then otherwise an analysis of Atlantic City would make me v happy ❤️❤️

Thank you thank you thank you and happy Bruce Birthday Extravaganza!! 🎉🎉🎉

(ALSO have you heard his weekly radio show because it's absolutely lovely?)

NOW THE FIC IS IN PLANS/INCOMING/MAYBE BEING USED FOR JBWEEK so hold out for that but meanwhile I’ll be delighted to give you atlantic city which I’ll link in my favorite live version Ever u_u

background for the new people: AC is the leading single from bruce’s masterpiece nebraska from 1982 (original version here), most known for a) its stripped down nature b) the bleak nature of the songs and AC was the first single most likely because it was one of the few palatable songs in that sense as it has a very catchy refrain and it’s not as Dark™ as most of that record, but still, not a walk in the park song either. on to it:

Well they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night Now they blew up his house too Down on the boardwalk they're gettin' ready for a fight Gonna see what them racket boys can do

not counting that according to me ‘they blew up the chicken man in philly last night’ is a masterpiece of an opening line, we need to unpack the context here because there’s quite some and as usual, bruce being a Good Lyricist, he gives you everything you need to know in the beginning. first thing: the chicken man in question was a philadelphia mafia boss named philip testa who was indeed blown up by its rivals in his house in 1981 (thanks bruce for the american history trivia that gives me a culture in random local criminals), so we know that chicken man being blown up in philly is what starts the entire story we’re about to hear.

now, ‘down on the boardwalk’: there’s no boardwalk in philly but there’s an extremely famous one in atlantic city, which for anyone not in the know is the gambling capital of new jersey and a fairly large crime hub, therefore now we know that the mafia boss being dead in philly means repercussions in atlantic city and that the ‘racket boys’ will do something about it in revenge. so far so good. Now there's trouble busin' in from outta state And the D.A. can't get no relief Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade And the gamblin' commissions hangin' on by the skin of its teeth

on to stanza two... ‘trouble busying in from out of the state’ means that pennsylvania criminals are getting into nj or the consequences are spawning across two states, which means the situation is so bad that all the police involved are in a hard time (the DA can’t get no relief, the gambling commission is hanging by the skin of its teeth) while a rumble on the promenade is in the works, most likely a bad clash between gangs that has to do with gambling which, AC being a gambling central casino city, would indeed be the logical consequence.

Everything dies baby that's a fact Maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

now, refrain: we’ve moved on from large picture to small picture where we have one person talking to his girlfriend (baby/put your makeup on) who tells her to meet him in atlantic city, so we can presume that it’s where either of them live or work or usually hang out... but the first two lines are pretty damn haunting though they give an idea of death/rebirth in the sense that yes maybe everything goes to shit but it can go back to good at some point so it’s not absolutely bleak, so: our guy is in a shit situation, he’s seeing maybe a way out, he wants girlfriend to meet him in AC, so far so good.

Well I got a job and tried to put my money away But I got debts that no honest man can pay So I drew what I had from the Central Trust And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus

we find out what went on immediately after, as in: our guy had a job, tried to save money, couldn’t, has debts most likely with the mafia or crime because no honest man can pay them (they’re probably gambling-related at this point) - now, he could pay them up (which he can’t) or take his money from the bank and run, and buy *two* tickets, so: he’s in debt with the mafia, he wants to run, he wants his gf to come with, and we have again the refrain asking her to come with him... and then we get to the bridge:

Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold But with you forever I'll stay We're goin' out where the sands turnin' to gold now Put on your stockin's cause the nights gettin' cold and Everything dies, baby, that's a fact but maybe Everything that dies someday comes back things between narrator and gf are not in a good moment of their romance (their luck has died and their love is *cold*, same as in a lot of bruce songs where the couple isn’t young and in love anymore but has gotten to the stage where both of them are cold with each other but are still together), but he swears he’ll be with her forever so he’s still loyal to here regardless of anything, to the point where he promises her they’re going ‘where the sands turn into gold’ which suggests they’re going to the beach/somewhere warm... which lasts for not long because then he tells her that the night is getting cold, so they’re going nowhere warm and the sense of doom keeps on never quite going away, also thanks to the everything dies/someday comes back repetition outside the refrain. Now I been lookin' for a job but it's hard to find Down here it's just winners and losers and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line Well I'm tired of comin' out on the losin' end So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him

now we’re closing on the end: narrator is looking for a job but he can’t find it and says that the only thing you can do to survive ‘down here’ ie in AC is being on the winners’ side or you’re out, and then he says he’s tired of being on the losing end... which means that he didn’t eventually leave with his gf nor went to florida or the sea, because instead he met a guy and he’s going to do a little favor, so he’s gone from small time gambler to small time criminal and there’s no going back from it, which brings us to the vague optimism of the above part to bleak again..

Well I guess everything dies baby that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City And meet me tonight in Atlantic City And meet me tonight in Atlantic City And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

and at that point we go back to the refrain again which in this context doesn’t sound 50/50 which also is obvious from the music, in the sense that (especially in the live version) the last meet me tonight in atlantic city is repeated almost obsessively before it goes into the instrumental part that starts after each refrain, as if the guy is really trying to convince himself she will meet him or as if he’s trying to desperately convince her except that we can’t know if it’s going to work out the way he hopes to, if she’s leaving him or where he’s going to end up, but everything in the text suggests that he’s headed for failure... except that there’s that tiny sliver of hope that he won’t (very tiny) which makes it not the bleakest song on that record. which is probably not... not-depressing but still, in absolute tune with the rest of the record - which is all about people who lose their battles or don’t win them or try to do better by their circumstances and don’t manage to or don’t solve their issues, so it makes sense that in that context the guy ends up becoming a criminal, loses the girl and dies in some fight while wishing he went where the sands turn into gold, but you can still hope that she did meet him in atlantic city after all. personally I’m for the bleak interpretation but could be that I’m not wholly correct at the end of it ;)

[kae-karo]

Hi Katie! I just want you to know that I want your analysis of this new sims video more than anything and I'll just patiently wait for it... Have a nice day!

hi dear!! new sims vid, did u mean dnp simulator?

dorks spending the first ten seconds dancing in fake snow 

why virtual friends???? ??

my daddies gave to me y’all,,,,,,there’s knowing your branding and then there’s acting on that knowledge and i think this may have been one time where acting on your knowledge maybe was not a good call like ily and u do u and all but

i love phil loving his branding it’s cute also shoutout to @dnpscloset​ thanks for finding it (x) bc i want one now if anyone needs a last minute xmas idea i’m lookin at u mom u always wait til the last minute

same dan, same

‘we all have new faces and new lives and everything’s changed, this is gonna be hella dramatic’ *inhale* *exhale*

‘when u imagine the howlter family’ god they’re such adorable n sentimental nerds i love them

phil’s actual default is bein a leany boye

dnp arguing about what ‘desperate’ actually is as if the entirety of their first year after meeting they weren’t talking as often as they could five hour skype calls amirite

get away from me stalker lmao bold of u to say that danny

phil sweetie i love you with my entire heart he’s so so excited abt the virtual snow i love him

tiny zoom in jumpcut at 2:08 overlapping audio interesting

a mood and a half

phil immediately going ‘yeahhhhh thin walls family hearing things they gotta get out’ abt dab and evan like m8 we get it all u think abt is sex we get it god u and ur husband really are made for each other aren’t u (dnp = devan reference #1)

‘i presume evan is also jobless’ ‘i hope so!’ phil is it really,,,,,,smth to be excited about,,,,,,,

dan’s doin a lot of the hand phone lately u cute boy

we should have a redbull what is wrong with them phil can barely handle having too much sugar y’all thought it was a good idea to have a redbull also we should have a redbull they share literally everything which tbh is probs for the best lbr phil on a whole can of redbull hmmmmm yes ik it’s v possible and in fact probable that phil had his own can let me live

‘it’s a sensible lightweight jacket’ in the fucking snow wow dan u really did just set urself up for phil to drag u about not dressing for the weather

dan’s fucking laugh at 4:39 gives me life literally there is no purer and more adorable sound like that’s up there with kittens purring

‘i think he’s gonna be a bit of a diva in this relationship’ did you mean: dan howell (dnp = devan reference #2)

[slight bit of ankle is showing] dan: ‘and now you’re wearing shorts’

where’s the lie tho honestly that lil pause before he said mate

this clip will live in infamy bc i want this in every fucking phan edit for the rest of time like i can’t even think of the right out-of-context clip right now but anything that can be answered with phil saying ‘it’s dan’ i need it

mandatory phil covering his mouth and bein a cutie

yes destroy gender roles in the snow universe (although seriously dan’s ‘life is just about uncon-doing the horrible conditioning of all these gender stereotypes, phil’ is so important also i stan phil recognizing that before dan i think it’s really easy to forget that just bc up til recently he’s not been as expressive as dan of his opinions on how stupid gender roles are doesn’t mean he doesn’t have just as if not more progressive a mindset than dan)

‘it’s like a dan vs phil’ dnp = devan #3

dan has such a lovely singing voice i miss him singing

dude phil’s eyebrows are making a Solid appearance v expressive

i s2g this is a different moment from the one above he’s just so fricken cute???

‘but they’ve got each other’s backs, phil, just like dab and evan’ yeeeeaaaa i’m gonna go ahead and go with dnp = devan reference #4 here i think that’s fair

snow angels are the least fun thing to do and yet (x - it literally won’t let me put it in bc it’s a privated vid rip)

amazing they just started having a snowball fight how cute n domestic am i talking abt dnp or dab and evan hmmmm - dnp = devan #5

i get that infinity war was a meme but lads it’s time to let it go

‘and they’re called the howlters’ lmao as if u ain’t an honorary lester daniel (dnp = devan #6)

i’m living for phil’s excitement i mean if that’s what redbull does to him i’m here for it i guess?

hi they’re dumb this was cute

‘we don’t want to be those people, but for us personally, we very much found that you just need to just move into a big city of some kind and just jump into life with both feet’ this is not only adorable advice but also where dnp simulator comes into play aka we did this so uhh dab n evan should do it (dnp = devan #7) also dan speaking for them both singular pronouns are quaking

‘don’t trust that’ what on earth are u on abt phil what don’t u trust the fuckin desert or?????

scalyburg phil stop pls we know we get it dan’s a furry ur a scaly we got it

why does dan spend an entire 7 seconds (8:40) adjusting is he moving closer to phil? switching which leg he’s sat on? idk but it lead to me pausing at this moment which was a gift in and of itself

‘the deposit on that one, plus the weekly went would make us instantly broke, so that’s fun, us when we moved to london’ bih do u hear me crying

does dan remember phil’s first manchester apartment what kind of question is that phil have u met dan he probably remembers every bloody inch of that place i mean he did remember that there wasn’t a bedside table so

stop that

middle of the city, romance festival, geekcon, pretty views and cherry blossom trees sounds like dnp’s ideal location do u get why i’m calling it dnp simulator yet also dnp = devan #8

we don’t want to move next to the karaoke legends wow dan bold of u to say after belting helena at 2am real bold

phil having flashbacks to the apt they toured where they found out people died there

hi phil just looks so excited by everything

look i’m not saying anything except they’re managing to find a lot of similarities b.w their lives and what they’re doing for dab and evan okay like this apartment is great for people-watching? which is what phil did in his manchester apt?

context whomst? idk her

shoutout to the wardrobe

big bold life-changing steps

anon spitting truth up in this house (but like,,,,,my thoughts exactly lmao i was like they’re such introverts they would’ve avoided meeting their neighbors at any cost including apparently smacking into a locked door trying to avoid small talk phil we love u bab)

casually mentioning dan saying ‘we are dil-’ was he gonna say dil’s son, maybe but i like to remember the bloops of dan repeatedly calling dab dil so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

omg okay so from like. this point on, when dan’s like ‘here is my vision’, i’m absolutely getting queer eye vibes like amateur queer eye tho like two gay nerds trying to embody queer eye in their lives a bit oh wait

okay okay okay dan u said an ensuite bathroom and then failed to add a door to the bedroom do u understand how frustrating that is???????? do u understand how stressful it was for me to watch that whole damn vid and know that u forgot the door????

a space for hobbies what hobbies who has hobbies

they learned nothing from building their house before: phil should take the mouse away from dan immediately look at him he is such a sugar baby in this jfc

god dan is so cute get these idiots a penthouse apartment super high up so he can have his bath next to a window okay he deserves that in life

stop it they’re literally agreeing on almost every single thing god they literally share a single brain

amazing

leany boye

‘they are young adults moving into their first apartment, you don’t have art!’ okay first of all don’t even go there daniel second of all i’m sorry you’re the one arguing for spending literally all their money but u don’t want to get some art bc it’s unrealistic????

dan saying lovely

phil’s mr carpet

navy??? navy? when did they? why? 

i would get involved in a criminal plot to have that / i’m gonna throw you out of one

wow pro tips makin a comeback

phil is Losing Steam

oh my god okay so i was joking but literally phil is losing steam lmao 18:35 he says ‘ayy’ and it’s so tired-sounding

leany leany boyes

okay look ik dan’s going into ‘aww poor philly’ mode but also he knew that very quickly like honestly that’s not a Thing i would ever notice about someone tbh i’m not saying it’s like Significant but damn danny was really into phil to know that shiz man

the high-fashion gigantic rug of our dreams

okay look i can’t make this up phil literally leans away for a bit and then

hello daniel’s Curl

i stan phil getting excited over plants

dab and evan will be having a mario kart fest will they (dnp = devan #9)

mirroringggggggg

dude big mood god they’re so fond and full of memories 

honestly dnp made it that way like u cannot convince me they didn’t purposely decide to do that mmkay

‘see they are ready to have their romantic dinners. and then they can pretend they have another friend and it’s fine!’ am i talking abt dnp or dab and evan who knows :) (dnp = devan #10) 

cold in the middle what on earth i literally have no memory of that i mean it could just be my shit memory but jfc they just remember that stuff goddamn

scrunchy boyes also phil where’s ur arm at hm

like i’m not fuckin joking where is it

you can’t exist without a computer i mean

what is important in life / the internet

they don’t even have fucking doors and dan’s like ‘uhm they need a terrarium’ dan i’m stressed

oh my god i’m sorry phil is so done with this now it’s actually comical

hi they didn’t add a door for the ensuite

give dnp an interior design series honestly give them any series

phil reached for dan’s hand u cannot convince me otherwise

‘not my personal taste’ really,,,,,really

when dab n evan hug dan looks at the screen n phil looks at the camera things u didn’t need to know but now u do

lmao jumpscared by the kiss

‘i feel like i’ve never nailed anything more in my entire life’ hmmmm hmmmmmmmmmm hm

the fuck was dan’s ‘getting a job’ that’s his fnaf voice u stop that

doon doon doon doon

tongue

hi uhm what the Fuck was that jumpcut at 28:30 i hate Obvious Jumpcuts with a burning passion specifically bc of dnp

[enthuzimuzzywrites]

If ya lookin for that hot action I got just the thing... 😏

0:15 😋 muscly men, eh?

0:47 that nice serene goat moment 🐐🙏

0:55 “Mounting m-men” glances at hubby 👬

1:24 “That’s you on a big...” gets distracted by Dan gyrating “...block of cheese”?? literally wtf lester 🧀

1:41 AWW THE HEAD TILT I LOVE

2:17 Dan out here giving us the truth with male beauty standards we love a knowledge boi

2:21 Oh, Philly, we know you already look like that in every place. Or at least dan certainly does... 💦 (AND THE SOFT “think before you speak!” MY HEART)

3:34 Oh god wtf kind of avatar shit you lookin up dan? 😶

3:48 DAN’S CUTE LITTLE NOISES ALWAYS KILL ME AAAAAH

4:00 DAN WE GET IT YOU LIKE DICK LETS MOVE ON

4:05 🍑😏😋

4:23 dan has ruined my brain with his furry propaganda 🐐🍑🐻

5:05 Dan yelling Phil’s name is my kink 🙏😉

6:25 They can’t help but cheer each other onnnn (I’m not crying you’re crying 😭)

6:36 HES LIKE WHAT ON WHERE???? 😶

6:54 “I wasn’t gonna say ‘penis’” 😐 umm Phil?

7:00 AAAAAAH 😘👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨🍆😉

AAAAAAAAAAAAH

7:24 ur wut phil?? UR WUT??

7:30 I AM HERE TO TAKE NAMES AND GRAB ASSES (aren’t you always dan?)

8:21 dan bb you always were... 😈

8:47 DO NOT WATCH WITH VOLUME UP ☠️🍆

9:31 When can I find this lil ditty on iTunes? Also,,,, wut 😳

10:26 HAPPY PHIL ARM PATS AWWWW 💕

11:03 NOT WITH YOUR FACE DOING WHAT?????????

11:15 did that “get the board dan” sound... different to anyone else?

Just. Phil’s laugh. 💕🤤😋

Talkin bout the d: 1:41, 1:56, 2:07, 2:21, 2:52, 3:17, 4:00, THE ENTIRE FLIPPETY FLOPPING VIDEO

[mikefrawley]

Atlantic City Well they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night now they blew up his house too Down on the boardwalk they're gettin' ready for a fight gonna see what them racket boys can do Now there's trouble busin' in from outta state and the D.A. can't get no relief Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade and the gamblin' commissions hangin' on by the skin of its teeth Everything dies baby that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty and meet me tonight in Atlantic City Well I got a job and tried to put my money away But I got debts that no honest man can pay So I drew what I had from the Central Trust And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus Everything dies baby that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty and meet me tonight in Atlantic City Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold but with you forever I'll stay We're goin' out where the sands turnin' to gold so put on your stockin's cause the nights gettin' cold and maybe everything dies That's a fact but maybe everything that dies someday comes back Now I been lookin' for a job but it's hard to find Down here it's just winners and losers and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line Well I'm tired of comin' out on the losin' end So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him Well I guess everything dies baby that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty and meet me tonight in Atlantic City

[blessyourheartdharps]

And Then There Were Two || Max&Dani

Who: Max Souza @maxellissouza & Dani Harper

When: Tuesday, 07/24/18 - After 9 pm

Where: The Pub

What: Max and Dani decide to keep drinking after Abel leaves

Notes: alcohol || continuation of Three Mopes At A Pub

Dani huffed and watched him walk out, shaking her head before making a beeline for the bar. She ordered a double shot of Fireball and downed it, before she headed back to the table, her senses still burning. She sighed, picking up the whiskey Max had given her and sipping it. "So, pretty boy, like it?" As much as she wanted to be angry, leave and go home, tear Abel a new one, it wouldn't do them any good, not tonight. They both had things they needed to drown but they needed to do it in different ways. She'd promised herself she wouldn't add to his shit and if this was how she had to do it, then so be it.

Max hesitated, keeping his glass close to his lips. "I... Should we like, go after him? Make sure he gets home okay?" He felt bad, continuing to just sit here and drink while the guy was clearly feeling miserable.

"No, he needs the space. Been going through a lot. This was for me and he doesn't want to fuck that up." She sighed. "Now, I do believe I asked you a question, pretty boy. I do want an answer." She raised her eyebrow at him, trying her best to not give in to the urge to leave and go home. Dani knew Abel needed room to breathe, at least for the night, but she didn't want to give it to him.

Max nodded, deciding not to press the issue. "Like what? The drink? Being called 'pretty boy'? Because yes, and yes." He grinned and took another sip, finishing off the drink. "I'm starting to get all loopy, and it's awesome."

Dani laughed a bit, shaking her head as she sipped the whiskey. "Glad to hear it." She smiled as he finished off the drink. "Now if only my taste in women was as good as my taste in alcohol. Though, I would be careful with those, particularly if you don't want that Rubix cube Uber you were talkin' bout."

"Hey, if you're into strippers at all, I could hook you up with some great ladies. Or, you know, myself, if you're ever interested in experimenting." Max pouted a little at her warning, ordering another drink from a passing waiter. "Ah, I'll be fine, I can always stand outside until a cab comes by, that's the beautiful thing about this city."

"I ain't into anyone right now. I meant what I said, I'm staying away from women, for the foreseeable future. I can't deal with another relationship. And until I get my living situation under control, I ain't lookin for hookups either." She finished the whiskey and ordered an angry orchard, deciding she needed something that wasn't hard liquor. "Still, pretty boys like you gotta be careful, and besides, I sure as fuck ain't lettin you get so bad off you gotta do that. If I gotta order you an Uber, I order you an Uber."

"That's fair. I don't think I could every not hookup, though, I like sex too much." Max shrugged again and took a long sip of his drink. "You'd do that for me? Aw, you're too kind, really. I don't know how I ever lived without you." Max laughed and patted Dani's hand, leaning back in his seat again. "So. Tell me some hot gossip. I feel like I'm at a girl's night out or something."

"I get off well enough with my toys, no need for another person." Dani shrugged a bit, rolling her eyes. "Think it's a southern thing, or maybe I just tell myself that." She laughed a bit and sat back, taking a sip of her drink. "Where you expect me to get gossip from? I ain't been in town long enough. Unless you want stories from the last time I was here."

Max chuckled, spreading his legs out under the table. "Maybe, because people from Philly are mean as fuck. I don't know, just any kind of gossip is good. I could tell you some, but the majority of it is just a long list of guys who want to cheat on their wives with me."

"For a ladies night, we have the worst posture." She commented with a laugh. "I wouldn't know. I ain't got gossip. I got stories, but I ain't got gossip. So either you spill or you accept a story. Though, I'm not even sure if any of em are worth anything to you."

"Yeah, my mom's always telling me I'm going to have terrible back problems when I'm older. But that's a future Max problem." He shrugged, sticking his finger in his drink to mix it. "I'll take a story. Also some nachos." Max looked around for the waiter. "Do you think they have nachos here? "

"Fuckin everything you do in life is gonna fuck your back up. Don't matter what you do, might as well be comfortable." Dani took a sip of her drink, eyeing Max over the rim for a bit. "I have no idea on the nachos, but you could ask?" She thought for a moment, trying to think of what she could possibly tell. "Well, what kind of story would you like? You seemed awfully interested in my love life yesterday. Or there's random stranger stories, or roller derby. Pick your poison."

"You are so right!" Max raised his glass in a mini-toast for Dani's statement. "Do you think I could flirt my way into getting a waiter to go get us some? Like, from a place down the road, if not from here?" He took a sip and shrugged, looking at the waiters to try and figure out which one would most likely be into him. "Love stories. Those are my favorites."

Dani laughed, shaking her head. "You could always try and if not, we go for a walk and get fuckin nachos." She sipped her drink, thinking. "I mean, I only had one girlfriend worth noting. Not saying the others before her weren't nice, but she's the only one I managed to write music about. So I'm not sure what kind of story I even have worth telling, 'cept the break up, really. And that's just depressing."

"You are so smart. So smart and so wise." Max shook his head slowly, in admiration. "You're telling me someone broke your heart? You, Dani? The girl who's so hot that she breaks hearts just by existing?"

Dani shook her head, laughing at his words. "No, I'm just not as drunk as you are." She sighed. "I wasn't who she wanted. At the end of the day, there was someone who held her heart and all I really did was help her along til she realized that. She's made quite a life for herself and I'm happy for her."

Max frowned, shaking his head again. "That's not right. You don't deserve that. And she's probably miserable without you. If i had knew any single lesbians, I'd totally send them your way. But all I know is my cousin Santana, and she's married, so." He shrugged and finished off his drink, slowly standing up. "I'm off to get us some nachos, be right back."

Dani stared at Max, blinking for a bit. How the fuck? What kind of small world bullshit? Granted, she knew way too many people who lived in New York that were from Lima, Ohio but the fact this random, adorable, pretty boy was related to her ex girlfriend, it was a bit much. She didn't really know what to say and found herself simply nodding when he mentioned going to get nachos, suddenly becoming far to interested in her drink.

Max came back a few minutes later, a small plate of nachos in his hands. "Ta-da! Don't ask how I got them, because it's not as interesting as you think." He sat back down across from Dani and nudged the plate towards her. "Okay, you wore me down, they sell them here."

Dani laughed a bit when he returned, shaking her head, still trying to comprehend everything now going through her head. "I figured as much." She leaned forward and set her drink down, picking up a nacho and taking a bite. "So, you ever get around to listening to Stone Cold? Cause if not this story ain't worth anythin."

Max dug into the nachos, giving Dani a confused look. "The ice cream? Wait, no. That's Cold Stone, right?" He smirked and shook his head, wiping his hand on a napkin. "Kidding. Yes, I listened to it. It nearly made me cry, honestly. You're so talented. Like, for real. Not just because I think you're hot."

Dani shook her head, rolling her eyes at his joke, a smirk on her face. "Okay but now I want ice cream, you're a bitch, but we knew that." She laughed a bit, taking another bite of nachos. "Well, that was written about the fact one Santana Lopez broke up with me after a trip back to Lima fuckin Ohio, when she realized she was still in love with her now wife. So... I've got an inkling you aren't the only one in your family that song made emotional. You're also not the only one in your family who can say they've hit on me." She laughed, shaking her head. "Your cousin sure has a thing for blondes..."

Max stared at Dani with wide eyes, as it took way too long for her words to sink in. "No way, that's my cousin's na- ohhh." He winced, feeling awkward. "Shit. Sorry about that.  That's really shitty. But you have to admit, my family has great taste, right?" He looked down at the nachos. "But, yeah... sorry."

Dani watched as it all processed through his head, laughing a bit. "Don't be sorry, hun. I got over her a long time a go. Love is fuckin weird and I ain't gonna hold that against anybody. Like I said, I'm happy for her, and her wife, and the life she's built. I ain't got a reason not to be." Dani shrugged. "Y'all really do, even if you don't like whiskey."

Max nodded, chewing on his lip a little. "Do you want to hear an embarrassing story? It might make you feel better."

Dani raised an eyebrow, looking at him carefully. "Not if it'll make you feel worse, darlin. I'm alright, really. Gotta admit, the look on your face was kind of worth it."

"No, that's okay, I'm over it now, and I discovered a passion for something in the process, so..." He shrugged and looked back up at her. "I'm sure it was pretty funny, I know I make goofy faces sometimes."

"Oh? Do tell then." She smiled, taking a sip of her drink and sitting back in her chair again. "Maybe one of these days I'll see more of them."

"If you're lucky." Max chuckled and took another sip. "So. Basically..." He sighed, sitting up a little straighter. "A couple years ago, my friends and I went to Sassy Nights, for one of their birthdays. I got a lap dance from this absolutely gorgeous woman. I fell for her instantly. The next day I came back, and applied for a job to get closer to her, only to find out that she was married." He shrugged and finished his drink. "What are you gonna do?"

Dani rolled her eyes at his comment but said nothing. As he continued she raised her eyebrows, laughing a bit. "And I thought I was a mess. Damn, pretty boy." She finished off her drink and sighed. "I mean, I've fallen for plenty of straight women and done stupid shit to get closer to them, but takes the cake."

Max smiled and pushed his drink aside. "Yeah, it was pretty humiliating. Luckily I moved on, but... it did sting, for a few days there. So, if that makes you feel better, a member of the Lopez family has gotten their heart broken before."

Dani shook her head, laughing. "Not really, but it was a funny story." She looked at her empty glass and scrunched up her face. "We wanna get out of here? I feel like if I'm here much longer I'll just drink until I can't remember my own name and that's far more depressing than I want to be tonight."

Max nodded and stood up, leaving some cash on the table for a tip. "Are you trying to pick me up? Because I don't know how Santana would feel about that." He winked at her and held his arm out. "Come on, I'll be a gentleman and get you home, and not even ask for a goodnight kiss. But, I mean, if you want to give me one anyway, I wouldn't, you know, hate it."

Dani laughed, standing, also tossing some cash onto the table, linking her arm with his. "I'm tryin to make sure a pretty boy gets home safe, is all." She smiled, rolling her eyes. "If you keep talkin pretty I might just give you a kiss on the cheek, but we'll see."

"Uh-huh, sure." Max teased Dani, leading her out of the bar. "Then I'll make sure to talk the most beautiful talk you've ever heard, my dear."

She shook her head, laughing, letting Max lead her out of the bar. "We'll see how you do. I'm hard to win. Mind going for a walk? I'm not entirely ready to head home, honestly."

"You can stay over at my place, if you want." Max looked over at her as he walked, or more accurately, stumbled, down the sidewalk. "I have a pull-out couch. I won't try any funny business, promise."

"How far from here you live? Cause I definitely think if anyone is takin anyone home, I'm takin you." She laughed, doing her best to not trip as he stumbled. "Cause pretty boy you are drunk. And I think your cousin's wrath is enough to keep you from even thinkin of it and I can definitely take you on in this state."

"You could take me on if I was fully sober, I think." Max laughed and looked around at the buildings, trying to remember how far they were from his place. "Uh.... like... two miles, I think.”

"This is true." She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, which direction? Or should we just order an Uber and let them get us there?"

"Uh..." Max pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Uber. But you need to do it for me. Passcode is 1234. And my address is in there under my contact info."

"Alright." She took the phone and, after trying her best to get an approximate location, for where they were, she ordered the Uber and led him over to a wall. "We've got like ten minutes to kill 'fore it gets here, might as well chill for a bit."

Max smirked and stood against the wall, leaning in closer to Dani. "I can do a lot in ten minutes, you know..."

Dani laughed, rolling her eyes. "Being a naughty pretty boy, are you?"

Max chuckled and nodded, leaning away from her again., looking up at the tall buildings. "I feel like now would be a perfect time to smoke a cigarette, but I don't smoke."

Dani laughed, following his gaze. "Yeah, I feel you. I love this city at night, it's so different from Mississippi. The chaos of it all, brings me peace."

"It's not all that different than Philly, though in some ways it is, I guess." Max hummed, closing his eyes. "I wouldn't make it anywhere but a city, I don't think. I'd get too bored."

"Never been, myself so I wouldn't know." She looked down at his phone, keeping an eye on the Uber, just in case it picked up time someplace. "Most people wonder how I thrive in both places. How I can take the city and it's chaos just as well as the slow moving reality of a small town and honestly, I don't know, but I do."

"You're a woman of many talents, Dani." Max glanced over and gave her a small smile. "Adjusting to different climates is just one of them."

"How is it you talk pretty even when you're drunk? It's truly unfair." Dani nudged his shoulder gently with a laugh. "I wouldn't call it a talent. I just know how to work at different speeds. I learned how to channel my energy the right way, is all."

"What can I say? It's one of my talents. Smooth talk and the ability to move our hips in ways that are pleasing to the eye are just two things that members of my family are born with." Max's smile grew, bumping his shoulder back against hers.

Dani laughed, shaking her head, looking down at Max's phone in her hand. "I'm fully aware of this. And the Uber is almost here. Should be here any second." She looked towards the street, just as a car matching the description on Uber showed up. "Speak of the devil."

[bigmacdaddio]

Atlantic City

Well, they blew up the Chicken Man in Philly last night And they blew up his house, too Down on the boardwalk they're ready for a fight Gonna see what them racket boys can do Now there's trouble busin' in from outta state And the D.A. can't get no relief Gonna be a rumble on the promenade And the gamblin' commissioner's hangin' on by the skin of his teeth Everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies some day comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Well, I got a job and I put my money away But I got the kind of debts that no honest man can pay So I drew out what I had from the Central Trust And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus Everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies some day comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold But with you forever I'll stay We'll be goin' out where the sand turns to gold But put your stockings on, 'cause it might get cold Oh, everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies some day comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Now I've been a-lookin' for a job, but it's hard to find There's winners and there's losers and I'm south of the line Well, I'm tired of gettin' caught out on the losin' end But I talked to a man last night, gonna do a little favor for him Well, everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies some day comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic City Oh, meet me tonight in Atlantic City

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

Just watched 5x09

So Kasius has suddenly decided he's a goa'uld, complete with delusions of godliness, resurrecting people, big speeches that give the sassy humans ample opportunity to stall and defeat him, dramatic roars, killing his slaves, limitless expendable soldiers taken down far to easily with tau'ri sorry what human weapons, and a personal defence shield.

Enoch survived the episode hallelujah I was terrified ball lady would kill him 

Instead ball lady got killed yassss 

My love for him grows with every episode 

NO FAM DO NOT BULLY THE 'NOCH IT'S JUST HIS CHARMING QUIRKS HE'S NOT ANNOYING 

TESS IS BACK FROM TAHITI YASSSS

Daisy convincing may what a great mum she is/was/will be is the most adorable and wholesome thing she should know she's her firstborn you bet your ass May gave her a curfew as soon as she came on the bus

The thought of Daisy without powers is kinda weird and terrifying it wouldn't be the worse thing in the world but I'd really miss all the awesome scenes 

Kasius seems to constantly underestimate Daisy trust me my oddly goatlike smurf she's onto her fifth season of being the main character in terms of plot most of the time she can survive your pathetic manhunt 

Seriously why does kasius remind me of a goat

I can't be the only one who sees it 

The Mack Yoyo Flint family is so glorious

PEBBLES

Also Gunner came back and that was such a sweet lil thing 

Fitz boy you need to let go of the you can't change time thing you might have more scientific evidence or whatever it but stop thinking about it it just depresses you

Ok seriously they've brought gravitonium back they've got to address the hand that came o ut of it after Hall fell in

I love how they're setting up the rest of the season in s4 they did the same but it was less obvious what was coming there's more anticipation this time 

I've figured out what's so annoying about Deke apart from the whole relationship with Daisy hinting thing 

Nothing's ever his fault its always the crazy humans who obviously don't know anything and who have been through nothing compared to me no you should be THANKING me for turning you over for slavery and indirectly causing the death of a very nice and attractive friend of yours UGHHHHHH why do you have to go save your friends don't you get it you should just let them die its how we roll around here GUYS SERIOUSLY why are you hitting me you should ever grateful I turned your daughter over to Kasius now tend to my wound 

It doesn't help that it reminds me of Ward trying to convince a mid panic attack Fitz that he saved them by dropping them into the ocean and giving him brain damage

At least Ward had more reason to be an asshole 

THE PROMO

Old Kassy's lookin pissed

He doesn't look so good

Seriously Daisy so you really think Philly Son of Coul Dad Supreme is gonna leave you behind nah he'll ice you and drag you through himself

KASSY GET THE FUCK OF MY BABES YOU HURT ANY OF THEM YOU CRAZY MANGLED ASS GOA'ULD GOAT SMURF AND YOU'LL BE SORRY

And so the fun resumes

[himbowelsh]

lydia, can I request something w/spina? If there's a particular prompt you'd like to do, go for it, but I'm not super fussed, I just love this boy and the tag can always be filled up more. Thank you!

[richmegavideo]

Lil Dicky – Jewish Flow (Official Video)

6th video off of LD's debut mixtape, "So Hard."

Download the free mixtape at: http://lildicky.com

Facebook: http://bit.ly/10iuKbO

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Marcus Ubungen on the visuals cargocollective.com/marcusubungen

Edited by Graham Willcox VFX by Nathan Shipley Sound Design by Nic DeMatteo

Lyrics -

Verse 1

Okay now you already know that Dicky been about that flow all day I used to beg to get blow J's, I'm over head now, stowaway My team about that money tho, we scrappin fo that dummy dough Don't act like das yo money ho, das nacho cheese das doritos

and I spit that hot shit all day long, gotta room full a hot chicks, no Krayshawn and you know they blonde, got em in suede thongs and they ass meat lookin like filet mignon

you can find me, back a da club I'm wylin shots in a mafuckan mug, I'm buyin no I aint a mafuckan thug, but I will cut a rug in this mafucka carpet violence

in the crib wit dat AC on no fib, ya girl up in a lacy thong Cuz the kid been known to make a racy song Dicky got it goin on like I'm Stacy's mom

I'm higher than I ever been, flyer than a pelican No lie see mo vagina than a common OBGYN I'm ballin whatchu know bout that in a purple charlotte throwback hat

And im merc these tracks when I heard this rap Got me actin like I'm erkel, did I do that?

Hell yeah I did, you know I do it And the way they fallin for me like I'm boys wit cupid In a truck wit a slut wit a butt, get a nut, call that bitch bill buckner the way she blew it

I'm high off weed and oxycodon I'ma caffeine fiend takin shots a soda Wish I was big pimpin on a yacht wit hova but I'm happy that ma girl lemme motorboat her

I make this shit look easy dude I spit dat sick dat sneeze achu And who knew that baddest was a Nappy headed greasy Jew?

Chorus: Dicky spit that Jewish flow Lil Dicky spit that Jewish flow Sicker than the holocaust Dat muthafuckin jewish flow

That third reich raw Concentration camp cold Now we rollin in that mothafuckin dough Das dat Jewish flow

Dicky spit that Jewish flow Lil Dicky spit that Jewish flow Sicker than the holocaust Dat muthafuckin jewish flow

That Auschwitz sick, gas chamber kinda shit Now I got german bitches all up on ma dick Das dat jewish flow

Verse 2 blowin up, you know that's DI flowin since ya boy was knee high now im grown up and yall buggin cuz im buzzin like a beehive

shout out to my city, Philly, big ups to PA I went to college in VA but now I'm chillin by the bay And I got ma shit on lock, cuz I ball like a jock They attached to my balls, like a small little cock

No bullshit, dicky do it big no doubt And ya girl in the whirpool, wet no draught And she get so loud, I be like slow down Lemme relish this shit girl, no kraut

And then I beat that like it was a title bout And then I plant my seed that ho got plowed

Ew you so nasty, lil dicky you so nasty I got green knees, why you keep yo crib so grassy? I do it how I do it baby swag out the ass And I'm shittin on you dick heads like a drag the asshooole

Don't cha know my girls DTF And they pretty damn fine das PDF I'ma open that, I'ma cum press that I got Adobe Acrobat

Ma homies say that pussy takes a toll on dudes But my EZ pass dick just slides right through ooo

Chorus: Dicky spit that Jewish flow Lil Dicky spit that Jewish flow Sicker than the holocaust Dat muthafuckin jewish flow

That third reich raw Concentration camp cold Now we rollin in that mothafuckin dough Das dat Jewish flow

Dicky spit that Jewish flow Lil Dicky spit that Jewish flow Sicker than the holocaust Dat muthafuckin jewish flow

That Auschwitz sick, gas chamber kinda shit Now I got german bitches all up on ma dick Das dat jewish flow

Verse 3 You know that dicky bout to bubble up fresha than a mothafuck I gotta gang a bitches, whatchu know about a cluster fuck

The back of the crack of that ass is poking outcha pants I'ma crack from the back and ejaculate all on that ass

N'amsayin I'm cool ass mafucka try to see me If you want ma life, better find a genie In the club tryna choose, but I'm bein greedy so you know I pick six like a deion TD

cuz I got that swag that y'all don't have is that yo girl, das ma bad The sickest shit out two lips, heavy flow, I spit vagina flaps

Chorus: Dicky spit that Jewish flow Lil Dicky spit that Jewish flow Sicker than the holocaust Dat muthafuckin jewish flow

That third reich raw Concentration camp cold Now we rollin in that mothafuckin dough Das dat Jewish flow

Dicky spit that Jewish flow Lil Dicky spit that Jewish flow Sicker than the holocaust Dat muthafuckin jewish flow

That Auschwitz sick, gas chamber kinda shit Now I got german bitches all up on ma dick Das dat jewish flow

Beat - Jesus is Waiting by Cashous Clay

My mixtape is for promotional use only. Just a dude having some fun in his room.

The post Lil Dicky – Jewish Flow (Official Video) appeared first on .

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[teacher-lavin]

Bon Bon, Jan Savitt, and me*

Photo from Vol Vistu Gaily Star (1939). 

See author’s reading of story in audio file at bottom. Also, Recording of Bon Bon performing “The Masquerade is Over.”

I found an envelope on my desk full of letters that I must have written back in brighter times. This one was on top. 

Dear Bon Bon:

I hope that’s OK, --to call you “Bon Bon.” I met you in 1974, the year just before you passed. You had invited my dad to visit, and he brought me along. I was 19. All I knew was that you were the crooner whose silken voice fronted the Jan Savitt Orchestra in the 1930s when my dad was a trombone player with the band.

Big handshakes when we arrived. I think you had been ill, and you were staying in Philly with your sister or an aunt. Trying to seem grown, I said, “Bon Bon, it’s great to meet you.” But my dad cut me down, saying, “That's Mr. Tunnell, to you, boy. Who do you think you are?” So, I corrected myself, “Sorry, Mr. Tunnell.” And you smiled and said, “Don’t pay that old goat no mind.” And then you candidly asked my dad, “Jack, does he play?” And my dad said, “He’s terrible.”

The room had an audience of three or four of your cousins and a blind lady from the neighborhood. There was also a delicate young woman about my age, a niece. My dad was being very courteous and fun with everybody, except me, of course. He usually reserved his jovial laugh, and decorous, joking manner for people whom he wished to impress. I was easily embarrassed in those days, particularly in “company” with my father. The reason was that my dad’s way of dealing with me was to attack when he sensed my weakness. The worst was when we were with other people.

So then, my father dressed me down again with a rebuke, “Kid, when are you gonna get a lip?” Shaking his head, he lamented loudly that I never practiced. But, Bon Bon, you put your arm around me, and whispered in a tone that  the whole room could hear, “Young fella, your old man ain’t never gonna change. He’s just wound up too tight. I would love to hear you playing or even leading a band somewhere, someday. I know you will.” You were speaking like you could look into my future. Then, you quipped, “You gotta have a sweet-lookin’ trumpet or a trombone, right?” I nodded. That was a lie. And you included my dad in the musing, “Jack, we gonna buy this kid a valve-trombone like that silver-plated horn we bought for you. Remember that, Jack? I told Mr. Savitt to get that one for you! You always made it sing.”

Bob Bon! The airy way you intoned your words was a melody. Your speaking voice rose and fell like a brass choir. Your phrasing, your pauses weren’t just talk, your way of speaking was like Coltrane and Miles trading licks at a jam session.  While speaking, you walked me across the room and introduced me to your niece, and she greeted me with this kind, innocent, bashful, welcoming single syllable and  accompanying gesture, “Hi.” She raised her hand faintly and tapped the air twice delicately. I melted. You prompted me, 

“Well, is it trombone or trumpet? I know Tommy Dorsey here would never let you play the sax." My dad rebutted, “Don’t mix me up with that scoundrel, Dorsey!” For my part, I was way off key at this point and, trying to sound mature and to join in the banter, I overstated my cause, “I play both! I play trombone and trumpet. Man, I’m bad.”

You saved me, halting and gazing at my old man, warning him, “Look out, Jack. He’s coming’ for you.” My dad just shook his head.

We were in the nice room at the front of your folks’ house where visitors came. When my mom and dad had been together, we had had a room like that. Drinks appeared. There was a lot of laughing. Once I started to feel the beer, I was OK. That’s how I met you. You were more than generous. You were a magnanimous presence. Well, the story continues. My dad and I left your family high and late that pallid summer afternoon. It was the seventies in Philly. The car radio played Temple University’s Jazz Station low, and against a background of static another friend of my dad, Hank Mobley, was wafting a Brazilian-styled Bossa melody from the car’s speakers. We were somewhere in Southwest Philadelphia. As we drove away, we were euphoric on so many memories you and my father shared. Skying on that feeling of friendship, --free associating like a long piano solo. We were inebriated by the luxury of having been together partying with good people. For the moment, I was drunk. And so I felt almost safe. Dad was telling me stories about you guys. I  knew that you were the star of Philly’s  Jan Savitt Orchestra. As my father wheeled his rusting Cadillac homeward, he told me that you were Catholic and that, while playing a gig in Pittsburgh where the band had to stay in a hotel, he met you early one Sunday morning walking to mass at a nearby Catholic church. He reminisced over the steering wheel, “It was a big band. Fifty people or more on the road.  But that singled Bon Bon and me out. We were the only two practicing Catholics. After that, we prayed together when the band was on the road on weekends.” It wasn’t just the whiskey talking, it was affection. From my dad, that was different. His voice went falsetto high and even broke a couple of times. He said you had “credibility” with Jan Savitt and that the bandleader followed your advice about musical arrangements, style and orchestra personnel. After you and my dad had gone to church  together, you must have commended his trombone playing to Savitt. So, the conductor began calling him up during performances from the back of the bandstand to the mike. Once up front, my dad said that he would crochet vamps and runs on the trombone behind “Bon Bon’s magical manner of lyricizing.” His horn had to echo your singing. The trombone had to blend, dipping in and out of your trademark sound. My dad concluded, “That was a great opportunity. Bon Bon opened the door for me.”

So, after leaving hotels in Reading and Scranton, Pennsylvania and Atlantic City and Cape May, New Jersey to seek out Sunday morning masses, doors started opening for my dad. I guess no matter how much hell you guys were raising through Saturday nights, you both went regularly together to communion the next morning. You had a bond. I learned that you knew lots of people in Pittsburgh, too. Through you, my dad met Art Blakey, Sonny Stitt and Ahmad Jamal all playing in the Hill District. “Bon Bon brought me to the party,” my dad remembered.

That suave evening on the way home, I also learned that Jan Savitt was real committed to launching an integrated orchestra back in the 1930s. As if teaching, my dad historicized, “Savitt was Jewish and he had seen too much hate. He wanted music to be a language that everybody could hear and speak and understand.” I was young, but I got that.

My dad remembered that, in some bands, white players were paid higher, belonged to separate musicians’ unions than black players and, “There were places we played where we had to enter through separate doors because the owners were racist idiots. It was humiliating to everybody. You see. You’ve got a friend who is including you in his life. You’ve got a friend who’s sharing his family and  connections with you. You’ve got a friend who is taking care of you. Then, you see him being excluded from the money and the respect he deserves, and there’s nothing you can do about it.  His family and friends always made space for me, --always were good to others. I was never cut out. No matter how hard he worked, Bon Bon was exploited, disrespected and insulted. He always showed courage. He always showed humanity.”  

The way home, punctuated by neighborhoods and stop lights and crosstown expressways, went quiet. Finally, my dad asked me, “So, what do you think?” Feeling unprepared, I said, “I don’t know,” Then, he reprimanded, “Well you’d better figure it the hell out, kid. You’d better figure things out or you’re going be stuck out in the cold.” 

We were back to being bitter. My dad by invective. Me by clenched silences. The stress of being with my dad made me sweat so much that I felt feverish. The hot summer evening suddenly seemed cold. So much had happened, I couldn’t make sense of  the currents sweeping through my shaking body. I got out of the car finally and my dad didn’t say “Bye,” he just said, “Figure it out!” That was over half-a-century ago, but since that time whenever I wanted to cheer my father up, I would mention your name. Especially at the end of his fight with cancer. As he’d lay listless in the aftermath of treatments, all I had to do was mention you if I wanted to see him pause and smile. Bon Bon! However briefly,  you brought me and my dad together. You made us whole. Yes. Your voice called friends and families and lovers to life’s weird party. Then, you sang, and those people felt the love. Audiences that came to hear you saw Black people and Jewish people and Irish Catholics and Protestants and Muslims all performing together back in the 1930s. You were a healer.

My dad was cruel, and I’ve had to deal with that. But he did love you. And the best gift he gave to me was the way he adored jazz musicians for their talents and their friendship.

He told me, “You can learn to love Jazz. It’s African music. It’s beautiful. Jazz is like being part of a big family. Ella and Dizzy and the Duke and the Count. They’re all connected. But you can never know what Black people in this country experience. You can never know the bigotry they have to face. You can’t know that from the inside.”

I got that as a kid. The only time I had ever seen the old man cry was near dinnertime on the day in July 1971 when Louis Armstrong died. I was just home from my job at a shoe factory in Norristown and was nursing a beer on my dad’s couch when the evening news suddenly reported that the Great Satchmo had passed. His face went wet with tears. “That man never played a bad note,” was all he could say, over and over, like a mantra.

Bon Bon! What I learned was that music --even the crooked notes like what I played on my student model trumpet at weddings and dances and other weekend gigs-- still had power over people.

So, no matter how angry I felt about my dad’s abuses to my mom or his bitter way with me, I have to thank you for caring. Even for that skinny, frightened teenager I was. You made me want to play bell tones and to share my sound. I wanted to soar on that silver valve-trombone that you and Jan Savitt bought for my dad.  That was a goal, right?  Well, even though my learning curve has been a spiritual mudslide, I feel your charm in moments of reverie like today writing this letter. I listen to you croon “The Masquerade is Over,” and I hear your voice honor love. I learned that, --at least. No matter whatever else has happened.

When the weather breaks, I’m going to be tracking down where you’re buried. I’m quite sure that must be somewhere in Pennsylvania. My dad once said that he would have loved to visit with a wreath from the two of us, --to remember you. I just want you to know all these years later that your voice is still heard, Mr. Tunnell.          

With Affection,

Johnny

* All of the persons named in this story are completely fabricated and fictitious and bear no connection to actual persons living or deceased, --except for Jan Savitt, George “Bon Bon” Tunnell, Ella Fitgerald, Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Stan Getz, Ahmad Jamal, Art Blakey, Miles Davis and John Coltrane. 

[usuallyrics-blog]

Young Kings

New Lyrics has been published on usuallyrics.com https://usuallyrics.com/lyrics/young-kings/

Young Kings

[Verse 1:] Money make the world go round And all the pretty girls go down And I still roll round through my old hood in my new whip All white ghost I call it my cool whip Hundred on my neck lookin’ like I move bricks My life is like a movie, every day a new script And ain’t it funny how this money make a mood switch Cuz they be talkin’ beef, I be up in Ruth’s Chris Who is this at the door, I think it’s the devil don’t let him in Just rap and take my niggas to places we never been And when it comes to cake I get it like Entenmann’s With the heart of a lion, no lyin’ I never been No hope for these fuck boys On my second mil and I ain’t talkin’ lunch boy Club 30, run dirty and it’s top boy Cuz I could treat you like a prison get you touched boy No homo, before I had a deal I was poppin’, no promo All of a sudden all these bad bitches want a photo M’s in my account and M’s in the logo So everytime I spend a hundred k I scream YOLO

[Hook:] Young kings, young kings I be rollin’ with some young kings, young kings And all we know is one thing, one thing Get the money nigga fuck fame, and fuck fame I be rollin’ with some young kings, young kings Rollin’ with some young kings, young kings And all we know is one thing, one thing Get the money nigga fuck fame, and fuck fame

[Verse 2:] Crowns on my wrist and my head And I’mma ball hard in this bitch ‘til I’m dead It’s money on my mind, make me put it on your head And have your own homies lookin’ at you like you’re bread Tryna eat nigga, I’m from Philly so you know I play for keeps nigga Six pallbearers, six feet deep nigga No insurance you been sitting six weeks nigga Big 40 knock you right up out your sneaks nigga Young kings, all I know is one thing Live life, one dream, started in the drug game Where they never make it out unless you got a gun gang Walkin’ through my city but it’s lookin’ like I run things Runnin’ shit, diarrhea And ever since my dad died I ran out of fear G5 through the sky boy we outta here Sippin P&J fresh from out the PJ

[Hook]

[Verse 3:] I still wake up go and get it, youngin on a mission Cuz when niggas was eating they left me to do the dishes But I’m different, I still put ‘em on just to show ‘em right I used to be the dark child but now I glow at night I keep a milli by my side because we both alike Try and keep that nigga out the field cuz he be throwin’ white Dishin’ d, tryna get rich as me I’m worth a couple million man that shit was meant to be 20 gold chains on, shit I think I’m Mr. T If I could live my life again I wouldn’t do it differently Prolly bring my father back, just so he could witness me Back up in my zone I swear my haters is history Bitches say they missin’ me, I never fall for it Cuz they just miss the money, they know I go hard for it And if my niggas need it, I tell ‘em come for it Cuz when it comes to me, they shootin’ like a small forward, swish

[Hook]

Who is Meek Mill

Robert Rihmeek Williams, famous stage name Meek Mill, is an American rapper. Born in Philadelphia, the artist began his musical career with The Bloodhoundz. In 2008, hip-hop artist T.I. made the first entry.