#Chapel Recording Studio

[aneverydaything]

Day 2128, 20 April 2024

[mihotose]

dreamt i was at a taskmaster recording and alex let tom allen introduce a task and he said its time for fag flags! and there was silence for a moment before most of the audience just stormed out of the room offended and there was immediate discourse bc people didnt realise it was fag as in cigarettes. also phil was on it again

[thatchickwiththecamera]

If I'm There

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Death, Loss, Grief.  

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Y/N groaned upon entering the hotel room and flung her body onto the crisply made king sized bed. The pelican case she had been holding was discarded somewhere along her journey. Noah, her boyfriend of two years, simply smiled at her antics as he rolled their remaining bags into the entryway. 

Noah’s band, Bad Omens, had just wrapped up their latest North American tour with a four day run of shows across central and eastern Canada. Y/N was a member of the band’s visuals team and worked as the lighting and video technician alongside Matt at Front of House. Her and Noah met four years ago when she was running visuals for one of the bands supporting Bad Omens on tour. 

Noah, Matt, and Nicholas liked her work and decided to extend an offer to join their growing team prior to the next tour. After two years of working with Bad Omens and two years of tip-toeing around shared feelings, Noah finally asked her on a date and as they say, the rest is history. 

With this tour coming to a close, it meant that they had the next two weeks off to do whatever they wanted before the guys had to be back in Los Angeles to finish tracking the new album. Everyone was scheduled to fly back to their respective home states at various times throughout the next day. While all of the gear was to be freighted back to the LA to either be stored in the warehouse until the next tour or to be moved into the awaiting studio space for recording. 

“I am so ready to sleep in my own bed,” She exclaimed, voice slightly muffled by the pillows. “I think the mattresses in the bunks are getting worse with each tour.”

“Either that or we’re just finally starting to feel older.” he said, flopping down next to her, “I mean, we are almost thirty.” 

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

Before she can raise the question of who gets first dibs at the shower, she is interrupted by the familiar sound of her sister’s ringtone chirping from the phone in the front pocket of her hoodie. 

“Yellow!” She tiredly exclaims, placing the phone on speaker. 

“Y/N” the serious tone of her sister's voice cuts through the speaker. 

She immediately sits up and looks over at Noah, now sporting a concerned look on his face that she was sure matched her own. 

Her sister rarely called her by her first name. Mainly using childhood nicknames. Never her given name. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N questions. 

“Y/N…it's Olivia.” Her sister continued, voice shaky. “There’s been an accident.”

She went on to explain that Olivia, Y/N’s best friend since as long as she could remember, had been hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home from dinner with friends from work. She had been rushed to the local trauma center where the medical team had managed to stabilize her but they stated that the next 24 hours were going to be critical. 

Noah was immediately on the phone with Matt, who five minutes later knocked on their door ready to drive them to the airport. 

The small airport chapel was dark and empty. The smell of incense lingered in the air from a Mass held earlier in the day. Y/N sat quietly in the last pew staring up at the large crucifix hanging on the wall above the altar and tabernacle. 

Despite eventually developing a vehement disinterest in organized religion as an adult, Y/N had been raised in the Bible Belt of the deep south and had grown up in and out of church as a child and young adult. She had witnessed and experienced enough over the course of her life that made her unable to completely let go of the notion that there was a greater power at play somewhere in the universe. 

Her grandmother always expressed belief in the power of prayer and when her usual sage advice fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn teenager, she always told Y/N to ultimately pray about it. 

“Give it up to God,” she would say, “Put it in his hands.” 

There were no direct flights out of Toronto, which left them stuck at JFK in New York City for the next three hours due to a layover. Noah’s many years on the road made it possible for him to sleep pretty much anywhere despite his tall frame. But her anxiety prevented her from finding any respite of sleep on the uncomfortable metal chairs outside the gate. 

Which is why she now found herself sitting in the Our Lady of the Skies chapel talking to a wooden crucifix. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you or if you even are actually there and listening,” She states, eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to form, “But at this point I’m desperate.”

“If there is one person in this lifetime that deserves to live a long and fulfilling life it is her,” she continued, “she can be one of the most naive people I know, but she has only ever brought kindness and love into this world because of it.” 

“You’ve already taken so many from me…,” she pleads, unable to hold back the tears as a few escape and trail down her cheeks. “Please don’t take her too.” 

A moment later she felt the warmth of an arm wrap around her and turned to see Noah sit down next to her, their carry-ons bags sitting on the floor in the aisle next to the pew. 

She buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, placed a tender kiss on her head and held her close as she finally let the tears pour out. 

Upon landing in South Carolina, Y/N's sister met them at baggage claim. She looked as tired and spread thin as Y/N did. She knew just how much Olivia meant to her little sister, and also considered her a good friend. But her bond of friendship was no wear near as unbreakable as the one that had been built between Olivia and Y/N over the years.

She wrapped Y/N up into a tight hug and let her know that Olivia had been rushed back into emergency surgery about an hour before they had landed. They had found internal bleeding that was previously missed due to the severity of the initial trauma sustained in the crash, causing her previously stable condition to quickly deteriorate. 

Upon arriving at Columbia Memorial Hospital, they quickly located Olivia’s parents in the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Olivia’s mother, Mary grabbed Y/N in a  bone crushing hug the second she saw her, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did. She followed the band and knew the journey they had made to be there. Before they could speak further, a man dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the large bay door. She felt Noah take her hand and give it a squeeze.

Mary walked over to the doctor. He grabbed her hands and shook his head. Y/N couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but Mary’s reaction to them told her all she needed to know. 

Olivia was gone.

Y/N felt numb. She felt her emotions shut down. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees but her body just remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Noah’s hand never left hers and his grip never faltered.

They briefly expressed their condolences to Mary and other member’s of their family before leaving them space to grieve. There was no reason for them to stay at the hospital while Mary began the heartbreaking task of preparing for her only child’s funeral. 

The drive to her sister’s house was silent. She showed Y/N and Noah to the guest room and left them to unpack and prepare for bed. 

Y/N found little sleep that night. As sunlight began to stream in through the bedroom window, she turned to peer at the clock on the nightstand. 

It read 6:00am. She quietly rose so as not to disturb Noah’s sleeping form in the bed next to her. She quickly dressed, grabbed her sneakers, and headed out the front door. 

Y/N ran. 

She ran until her lungs felt like broken shards of glass. 

She ran until her legs felt like they were made of jello.

She ran until her feet were numb and weighed heavy like cinder blocks.

In school, she ran after her first heartbreak, she ran when her father died of cancer, she ran when her mother became absent in her own grief leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, until she would eventually pass as well. 

She ran when all of life's problems seemed to pile up as high as the peaks of Mount Everest and bare down on her shoulders. 

When life didn’t make sense, Y/N ran. 

Olivia had always been the one to run with her. When her own body would grow tired she would remain on the bench at the trailhead of the old high school cross country course, making sure Y/N knew she wasn’t alone. 

But now Olivia was gone and the bench by the trailhead sat empty save for the water bottle Y/N had discarded at the start of her run. She tried to ignore the empty spot as she set out on her second loop. 

As she circled around again she spotted a second water bottle sitting next to hers on the bench. She felt the already growing agitation stir inside her further at the idea of having to interact with a stranger on the course. She prayed they would just run their route and leave her alone. 

Halfway through her third loop she heard the sound of another person coming up from behind her and expected them to call out what side they would be passing her and continue their run. 

Instead the person fell into stride next to her. She turned her head, ready to tell the stranger to politely fuck off, but stopped when she saw Noah running next to her.

He didn’t say anything, just kept running, never leaving her side as they continued to complete two more loops. He knew this was something she had to do, and despite his own fatigue, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone. 

Toward the end of her fifth loop, she felt her legs start to give way. Her toes snagged on a root sticking up in the middle of the path and she waited for her body to hit the dirt. She thought that maybe she would just lay there for a while and let the earth swallow her whole, but the impact never came. 

Instead she felt Noah wrap his arms around her. Pulling her firmly into his chest. The weight of everything she tried to hold inside started to fracture and crumble around her. The emotion she tried to run from rebounded back like a lightning bolt striking her directly in the heart. She thrashed against his hold and hit the bottom of her fists against his chest. 

She screamed out in rage as the hot tears streamed down her face. But despite her best attempts at getting him to let go, his hold remained firm. Noah was sure that his chest was red by the time she finally relaxed in his arms. He took the opportunity to kneel down and scooped the sobbing figure of the woman he loved into his arms. She didn’t have the energy to protest as he carefully carried her home. 

The funeral took place four days later. It was held at St. Joseph's Cathedral downtown where four generations of Olivia’s family had been baptized, confirmed, married, and eulogized. She could not deny that the Mass her family prepared had been beautiful despite Y/N not knowing much about the ways and traditions of the Catholic Church. 

After the service, Mary came up to the both of them and thanked them again for traveling back like they did and for staying for the service. 

“You were the closest thing Olivia had to a sister and even though it may not have seemed like it at times, you were and still are like my second child.” She stated. “Thank you for being her friend and being in our lives.” 

Tears once again formed in her eyes as Mary pulled her in for one of her soul squeezing motherly hugs that Y/N learned to cherish over the years. 

“I love you so much” she said, reaching up to grab either side of Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs. “And I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, before hugging the woman once again. 

The next day they were scheduled to fly back to LA, but not before visiting Olivia’s grave. It was covered in layers of floral arrangements and marked by a temporary placard with ‘Olivia Renee Barber” and her dates of birth and death engraved on dark metal. 

Noah stayed back as Y/N paid her respects. He wished that he could take all of her grief and carry it on his own shoulders so she didn’t have to weather the burden. He knew from his own experiences that she had to go through this process at her own pace. Loss was not linear and there were no magical boxes to check as you grieve and heal.

There was one thing he knew for absolute certain. As long as he was around, she would never go through anything in this world alone. He’d be there to catch her when she’d fall and just as he knew she’d do the same for him in return.

[watermelonsugacry]

i would adore to learn how/when y/n meet mitch! your posts make me so happy!

Choose Your Words

A/N: in celebration of SINCE 2010 turning 1 on Tumblr, here's how the two best guitarists in the world met! 💚

SUMMARY: After almost a year into One Direction's hiatus, Harry craves being in the studio again to make some music. After inviting his best friend and former band member, YN, onto his team, they spend the next two months in Jamaica as they make an album, uncover hidden feelings, and explore uncharted territories. (3.5k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist // Jamaica series // Previous song here! 🌵

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

“So what did you say his name was again?” 

Today marks the first day of the official writing session for Harry’s new album. The last of the team had just finished flying in the day before and settling into their new home for the next two months. 

Much like her time in the band, YN being the only female in this team was given her own room to stay in for their stay in Jamaica. With only a couple of hours in the land of paradise, she’s already traded in her skinny jeans for shorts and her leather jackets for open button-up shirts with tank tops underneath. 

Harry is just too excited to wait any longer. YN could tell how much he’s been holding it in and he has been itching to be back in the studio to make some music. After everyone’s taken naps to overcome the jet lag, it was time to get into the home studio to bring Harry’s ideas to fruition. 

The two of them haven’t experienced writing an album like this before. They were always on the road whenever they recorded, putting down some vocals here and there in a mini van minutes before going on stage to perform to a stadium full of people. They’ve never had the chance to set a month or two aside to solely focus on creating such a magic piece of art. Despite already getting in the studio to get started working on the album, it already feels like a vacation.

But before they could even get started, she had to ask about the last member of Harry’s team that she wasn’t able to meet before making the trip overseas. 

“Mitch. Mitch Rowland. He was Ryan’s roommate.” Harry answers as YN takes a sip of her smoothie she made earlier that morning. Her and Harry walk side by side down the hallway on their way to the built-in home studio. The house they were staying in was absolutely beautiful. It was just sitting off the coast so almost every window in the house had a view of the beach. It has a lot of open space in each room, a spacious backyard and a patio area for get-togethers, but YN’s favorite part of the house is the home studio. She can’t wait until hers gets done by the time they get back from their trip. 

“Wait, what happened to the other bloke that was supposed to come in?” 

Harry takes the cup from her hand and takes a sip for himself, “He bailed.”

“Just like that?” YN raises her eyebrows in surprise as he nods around the cup. “Well shit. Is this new guy legit then?” 

“Ryan said Mitch has been working at a pizza shop for the last couple of years and that they’re pretty good friends.” She nods along before being handed back her cup. “Met him about a week before we came out here and he’s pretty fucking wicked at the guitar. He’s pretty stiff competition compared to you.” 

“Har, har,” YN playfully rolls her eyes at his teasing but the compliment simultaneously inflates her ego and gives her tummy butterflies at the same time. The feeling in her stomach only increases as she watches Harry rake a hand through his new haircut.

Only a week before they need to take off to Jamaica, YN and Harry take the trip back to Holmes Chapel to a very excited Anne. The woman never fails to extend a warm welcome—especially towards the young lady who her son’s been secretly in love with since he was a teenager.

They stay by the doorframe of Anne’s small kitchen and (despite YN’s few attempts to talk him out of it) watch as Harry gets ready for his first haircut in almost two years. He takes off his shirt since he doesn’t feel like plucking the hair off of the fabric, leaving him in his pajama pants. The two women watch as he gets his long locks tied back in a low ponytail and YN can’t help the giggle that tumbles out of her lips.

“What are you laughing at?” Harry can’t help but chuckle as well. As much as this transformation is needed in order to transition into this new chapter in his life, there’s no denying that he’s feeling anxious as well.

“M’nervous! I can’t help it,” YN beams, tightly linking her arm with Anne’s.

“You want to cut a bit of it off?” Harry offers.

“Like hell m’gonna to be partly responsible for this crime being committed in front of me eyes.”

The people in the room laugh at her playfully offended tone and Anne pats her hand reassuringly to the young woman’s arm. YN’s had her fair share of hair transformations over the years. For Harry, his long hair has always been her favorite. She remembers the day he told her he planned on growing it out with the intention of donating it and the day he asked her about some ways he could keep his hair out of his eyes—introducing his love for headscarves and small clips. She remembers when she had a real shitty day and he let her braid his long hair to cheer her up...only for him to keep them on for the show they had later that night. She loved to card her fingers through his hair and watch his eyes fight to stay open.

Right as the hairdresser begins to grab at the low ponytail and brings the blades of the scissors to his hair, YN playfully covers her eyes and digs her face into Anne’s arm, “I can’t watch!”

“I was the one with the long hair. I’ve had it for so much of One Direction that cutting it off just felt like starting afresh.”

YN’s eyes peek through the gap in between her fingers as she watches the deed be done. Harry also has a hand over his eyes and playfully groans out in pain. 

She snaps a couple of pictures of him initially getting his hair trimmed before leaving to the living room to let him have his haircut in peace and have a chat with Anne. And once it was officially over, Harry only adds to the anticipation of his new haircut reveal when he tells her to cover her eyes.

“Hurry up, H. M’already all worked up.”

“Okay, okay,” She hears the sound of wood—presumingly the coffee table—scraping against the floor before he takes a take on it to be in front of her. “Open your eyes, love.” 

Her eyes make their way up from the two birds on his chest up to his head.

“Huh,” She smiles contently at the sight in front of her. Harry’s hair no longer reaches below his shoulders. The curly curtains that once framed his face have been removed. His newly short locks don’t seem as curly as it used to be but they both know it’s still there. Harry’s hair is styled in an upward motion and all she wants to do is run her fingers through it.

So she brings a hand up to do just that. She combs her fingers through the top of his hair and she’s slightly surprised that his hair is not long enough for the action to last longer. Her gaze moves down to his eyes and sees him waiting for her approval. 

“Is that a good ‘huh’?” He asks when she hasn’t said another word.

“It’s a good ‘huh.’” She tilts her head to the side as she continues to stare at him and a smile of his own creeps onto his face. She’s definitely going to miss his long hair, but on the other hand, she thinks his new look suits him as he starts a new chapter in life. And if she’s being completely honest with herself, he looks so fucking handsome.

When he sees her eyes continuing to bounce around the top of his head and around the rest of his face, he playfully pushes at her knee, “Stop or else I’ll get conceded.”

His chest swells when he sees that gorgeous smile of hers only become that much brighter, “Oh I think you’re way past that.” 

“I was about to personify my hair but I decided not to,” Harry huffs out a smirk from his seat in front of his interview chair. 

“M’excited for you to meet him though,” Harry says, rubbing his hands together. “Getting a lead guitarist is just the beginning for all this, y’know? Like it makes this that much more real.”

It’s really exciting to see Harry so excited about his music. Going from being in the band for five years and putting out an album a year was tiring to say the least but the fact that they were making music that they loved balanced out some of the stress. Now as an upcoming solo artist, it was inspiring to see him as passionate about music as he was when she first met him all those years ago.

“Well let’s stop wasting time then and let me go see how wicked this guy really is.” YN smiles and reaches for the door handle but before she can touch it, his hand covers hers. She blinks up at him as he brings their joined hands to his chest.

“You think talking to me is a waste of time, lovie?” Whether it was the teasing look in his eye or the way he smirks at her with his dimpled cheeks, but it has her mind going blank without a witty comment to fire back. Yet this is how they’ve been for years: making jokes that were borderline flirty, causing the other person to smirk or playfully roll their eyes in fake annoyance, acting like one another’s actions didn’t have an effect on them when it utterly and wholeheartedly did. Since they couldn’t do anything about it with the strict restrictions of the no-dating rule in the band, there was no harm or foul with these kinds of conversations.

Now everything is different.

They aren’t in the band anymore.

These stubble comments and questions left them searching for the truth behind each word that pushed past the other’s lips. Did the other person actually mean what they said or was it just them being how they always are? 

At a loss for words, she furrows her brows with a rigid shake of her head, “N-no, I-I mean—”

“M’joking darling,” An amused smile graces his face from seeing her all flustered and tongue-tied. It’s a rare sight so whenever he’s able to catch her off guard in this way, he relishes in it.

YN pulls her hand away from Harry’s with an eye roll and a scoff, trying her best to play off a cool demeanor, “I know tha’.” 

Despite her efforts, he continues to smirk down at her before twisting the door handle and pushing the door open. 

“After you,” Harry extends a hand out towards the room. With one last look at him, she enters the room with the rim of the cup to her lips to hide the heat creeping its way up to her cheeks. She sees two of the producers, Tyler and Alex, messing around with the buttons on the panel and in a light discussion. 

She also sees a guy in the recording room through the window above the huge studio console. His long hair covers his face as he looks down to tune his guitar.

“Is this him?” She asks, feeling Harry behind her. 

Tyler turns around and gives a quick nod, “Should we let him know we’re ready for him?”

YN cocks up an eyebrow with a hand lazily resting on her hip, “Let’s see what he’s got.”

Given the good girl persona that One Direction’s management forced upon her during the majority of her career, no one would really expect her to look so intimidating. Sure, there’s always going to be some slight intimidation for the fact that she’s a member of one of the most famous bands in the world, making music that quickly lands them at the top of the charts, putting out new music, and performing to sold-out stadiums almost every night—but she’s been so prim and proper externally that some people wouldn’t think twice to write her off as anything else.

As the last year of the band progressed, more and more of her personality began to shine through to the outside world. She’s a harsh critic and doesn’t like to sugar coat shit—especially if it comes to a big project like this for one of the most important people in her life.

So as she takes a seat on the leather sofa chair with Harry sitting on the arm rest, she puts one leg over the other and crosses her arms over her chest with a neutral expression on her face. Harry might say that this hippie looking guy is a good guitarist, but YN needs to see that for herself.

“I was a bit skeptical about Mitch at first, m’not gonna lie,” YN lightly laughs in her interview chair. “I mean, v’seen a lot of talented guitarists so far during my music career so I was mainly looking to see like, ‘what’s so different about this guy?’” 

From the first note that the guy behind the glass riffs—as cool as it was—she keeps from showing her thoughts and brings her cup to her lips. Harry pinches at his bottom lips as he watches for her reactions; needing her approval for something as vital as this racks his nerves like no other. 

As Mitch continues to play, Harry sees the way YN begins to slowly move her head to the pretty melody. Her eyes scan the spot on the floor in front of her as she listens closely to what’s being played and the infamous crease in between her eyebrows appears.

“But the moment he started playing, he just...” She shakes her head with a smirk. “...he blew me fookin’ socks off.”

Mitch does a really cool riff on the guitar that has the four of them in the room whoop and shout in amazement.

“Woah!” Harry stands up from his seat and lifts his arms in the air. 

“Holy shit!” YN lets out a laugh, putting her hands to her temple in disbelief. “Are yeh fookin’ kidding me?”

The next thing she knows, Harry’s removing his pink button up, crossing his arms across his torso and removing his shirt to place it onto her lap behind him. The two producers in the room soon catch on and start laughing hysterically at the sight before them.

Harry then proceeds to shimmy out of his tight, black jeans, leaving him in his tiny briefs, and sticks his arms in the air. YN places her index fingers in the corners of her mouth and blows out a loud whistle both for Mitch's guitar skills and Harry's undressing.

The two of them don’t waste another second as Harry takes her inside the recording room to formally introduce her to the newest member of the team.

“Mitch, this is my best friend YN. YN, this is—”

“Mitch fookin’ Rowland,” YN smirks, taking his outreached hand. “S’nice to meet yeh, mate.”

“Thanks, same here,” Mitch gives her a shy smile. “Harry’s told me a lot about you. He told me you’re a musician too?” 

Trying not to be thrown off by his innocent tone, YN glances at Harry at Mitch’s unexpected comment but she’s quick to bounce back, “I am, yeah. Nothing too major though. Play a bit of guitar as well.”

“Yeah, and by ‘a bit,’” Harry throws a hand on her shoulder. “She means she’s practically married to it.”

“You have to show me some of your secrets then,” Mitch motions to the guitar that’s still pressed against himself.

“Sure, but before that, you gotta show me how you did that one riff earlier,” YN says as she’s already reaching for one of the guitars she’s brought for the trip and throwing the thick strap over her shoulder.

It’s strange to meet someone who hasn’t known their band. YN can’t remember the last time she met someone where they didn’t know her name and her success prior to being formally introduced. Since she was sixteen years old, she began to feel like everyone knew everything about her: her feelings, her background, what she was fucking thinking just because they read something in some sleazy, tabloid article. People had preconceived notions about her but with Mitch, it’s the complete opposite. It was an uncomfortable experience at first, but then YN fookin’ loves it.

“The thing with Mitch is that since he had no experience with being in a recording studio and YN having the same, if not more, experience with songwriting and that sort of thing, it really connected us in a way where the three of us sort of, balanced each other out,” Harry explains, before pitching at his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger. “We had each other to lean on and work this out together and the three of us wrote the majority of the album together.”

“The first song we wrote together was Ever Since New York,” YN recalls as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Knowing from personal experience, the best form of therapy and venting out yeh feelings is in songwriting so...that song was just waiting to come out of Harry.”

A major part of creating music is being vulnerable. It’s an intimate experience to write songs, especially with other people, in letting other people see your hurts, your feelings, and the kinds of thoughts that can keep you up late at night. It’s one of the reasons why YN and Harry are as close as they are. It took some time to get used to it at the beginning of their careers together, but they let each other see the deepest parts of themselves. They tell each other things that they’d be embarrassed to tell anyone else with no fear of judgment; they’ve created a safe space in one another...well, as safe as one can feel when they’re secret, deeper feelings for their best friend.

Ever Since New York came to life fairly easily; songwriting can be that way when writing from life experiences. After finalizing some of the lyrics about Harry’s sick father with YN and working out the chords with Mitch, the next they knew he was laying down the vocals for the song. 

As everyone gets to work in the studio, YN finds herself reverting back to her old demeanor in the band: sitting in the corner of the room watching as the four male producers work their magic in front of the huge console of buttons and sliders. Not that she minded all that much since she was hired as a songwriter, there was nothing in that kind of job description for her to be with the other men producing Harry’s songs.

She knew her place without being told and she’s had years of experience in learning how to be okay with that...but that didn’t stop her mind from dreaming about being up there, moving various sliders, typing away at the desktop computer, and helping fix vocals as they appear in their zigzag form on the screen.

As if hearing her thoughts behind him, YN’s head perks up when Tom—better known as Kid Harpoon—spins around in his seat and beckons her over with a nod of his head.

When Harry comes out of the recording booth, a smile spreads across his face when he sees YN sitting in a swiveling chair with everyone else, clicking away at the desktop mouse as Kid points to the screen. She nods to whatever he’s saying and highlights the recorded vocals to make the needed adjustments.

When Kid sees Harry come up to them, he pipes up, “H, you didn’t tell me we got another producer on our team.”

“Oh, no s’nothing—” 

“I thought you knew,” Harry says in-matter of fact, interrupting YN before she can finish. When she blinks up at him, he nods over to the computer screen. “Wanna show me what you’ve got so far?”

She gives him that smile that has been making his knees weak since he was sixteen years old. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Um, so here’s a bit from the first verse you did earlier...”

As she shows him the work she’s done, it takes him a second to make his eyes stop bouncing around her profile. She speaks so passionately about her work, her eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. The way her plushy lips push and pull with each word has him wanting to reach out to run his thumb over her bottom lip.

After all these years, how has his feelings for her not gone away? 

He thought maybe this time it would be different. They’re not in the band anymore...but with her being hired on as a member of his album-making team, they’re practically co-workers once again. 

Harry pulls his eyes away from her face and looks at the computer screen in hopes to drown out those intrusive thoughts. He just hopes this doesn’t affect their work...shit.

Next Song Here! 👻

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[blurryalyssa]

Again

Clancy x Reader

Summary: my attempt to write lore.. but after the scaled and icy album comes out Clancy is back in dema and an old friend finds him wanting to know what happened to him during his time away from Dema.

Requests are open!

It was a cold evening in Dema, with its characteristic grey color and faint sirens, guiding citizens to their respective locations. Everyone had roles, in an orderly manner everyone had a purpose. Few citizens were outside, walking slowly through the endless halls. Some citizens were inside the chapel for daily prayer, while others went into their rooms to rest.

You didn’t have other plans after doing your daily tasks. So you decided to walk to your favorite place, the lookout. It was the top floor of the highest building in Dema you had access to. It was quiet and peaceful, you rarely saw bishops or other citizens at the lookout. It was only you and the perfect view of the outside.

But as you were walking down a hallway, you passed by a bench with someone sitting on it that made you stop in your tracks. On the verge of tripping over, you approached the bench with the person sitting alone.

His head was buzzed and he was hunched over, staring down at his feet. You slowed down your pace, thinking about the probability of your suspicions to be true. He’s dead that’s what everyone said.

Sitting alone in a bench there he was, Clancy.

“You’re back” Your tone had a mix of joy and amusement. You stood next to the bench, looking down at Clancy. Dark circles under his eyes, a busted lip and bruised cheeks. There was a piece of tape over the bridge of his nose. Clancy looked like he got ran over by a bus.

He turned his head towards you, looking up slowly. “Hello Y/n..” Clancy said, his gaze was firm looking straight ahead. His hands resting on his thighs completely still, he looked like he wasn’t even breathing.

“Do you mind if I join you?” You asked, he shrugged which you took as an invitation. “I saw you on tv, you looked lovely with pink hair.. like a true rockstar” You said looking at his head. “But you surprisingly pull this off too” You complimented, your hand slowly reaching over to touch his head, running your finger down his scalp to the side of his head. It felt recently buzzed.

“Thanks Y/n. I’m glad you think so” Tyler said weakly. He attempted to grin at the compliment, tilting his head once he felt your warm hand on his scalp. It’s been long months trapped in the studios recording music videos and songs. Set after set, Clancy wondered when it would all be over. He was exhausted, from everything. It was finally a time to sit still, despite coming back to square one. “You look different too, better” He noted taking a better look at you. Clancy could not recall the amount of time that passed from the last time he saw you, but he could tell the difference from looking at you.

You just rolled your eyes at him with a soft smile.

You’ve known Clancy for as long as you could remember. Always trapped in Dema, but going through every single rise and fall together. Despite the time together your little flirtatious banter never went anywhere. Clancy will always disappear for months at a time. That’s how times in Dema went like, but you wished he just could learn to accept his faith instead of fighting against it. That’s the only thing you both disagreed on. Change.

“They thought you were dead” You said.

“Who did?” Clancy questioned.

“Everyone” You did circle motions with your finger to clarify better. As you scoot closer to Clancy, you lean over his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “Scaled and Icy.. Clancy is dead” You said quietly, nearly whispering. Clancy’s mood shifted completely, he didn’t think anyone would care about analyzing the title. “They thought you were finally killed.. I didn’t believe it” You said, your head unintentionally tilting to the side to look at Clancy better. You wanted to heal his wounds so badly then. If his face looked like that, you could not imagine what the rest was like. “It’s going to take more than that to take you down, Clancy” You said encouragingly. A small smirk formed on your lips once you saw the faint pink form on Clancy’s cheeks. You were probably the only thing that made him feel something.

Clancy’s mouth parted, wanting to say something. His eyelids felt heavy and he wished to close the space between you at that moment. For a moment he felt how his heart picked up and his body ran warm.

Slowly, he was leaning in giving into his impulse. But something pulled him back quickly.

“Clancy you’re up let’s go” A bishop ordered.

Clancy pulled back, turning to the bishop. He obeyed quickly, getting up from the bench and giving you a small wave before following behind the bishop.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Once again, you were too close for comfort. But you didn’t want to let Clancy go so fast. You wanted answers, more than this little interaction.

You pulled the little notebook from the pocket inside your jacket. Quickly scribbling the address to your new room, you kept checking where the bishop was taking Clancy.

Once you wrote down a note for Clancy, you followed behind the bishop. You walked just close enough to them so you could drop the note next to Clancy for him to pick up. As you walked away, you looked over your shoulder to make sure he saw it.

Clancy was following behind the bishop, with a neutral look in his eyes even though he was terrified. He felt the little shove you gave him when you passed by them. The bishop told you to go away but you said it was an accident and kept walking. Clancy saw the note falling off your pocket and picked it up, glancing at it before hiding it.

Tower 13 room 216

Come find me :)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Song of the Day - "The Boxer"

Today marks the 55th anniversary of Simon and Garfunkel releasing the single “The Boxer” - March 21st, 1969.

The plaintive ballad, written by Simon, was recorded over a hundred plus hours in several different recording venues - from under the dome at St. Paul’s Chapel at Columbia University in New York, to Nashville’s Columbia Studio. The Nashville sessions included famed pedal steel player Curly Chalker, harmonica player Charlie McCoy, and guitarist Fred Carter, Jr. who played with Simon.

The famous bullet-sounding drum was the legendary Hal Blaine of the Wrecking Crew, who they placed in a hallway next to the elevator shaft for get the effect they wanted - that sounded like a cannon going off.

Simon has said the lyrics were a metaphor for his feeling beat up by critics, but as it evolved it became more about poverty and loneliness.

The famous “lie la lie” chorus was a place-holder of Simon’s for which he hadn’t written lyrics yet… but it just kinda stuck. But he says every time he does them, he’s embarrassed.

As for legacy, it is one of the very few songs Dylan ever covered. A beauty of a ballad...

(Mary Elaine LeBey)

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Story of Our Life

A Harry Styles Imagine

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is something a little different that was inspired by a dream I had where I was singing Story of My Life with 1D in a car... Also, I made some cover art on procreate plz don't judge my mediocre art skills lmao. Hope you like it!!!!!

Masterlist

Excerpts from

STORY OF OUR LIFE

by 

Y/N Styles

To Louis, the best chauffeur I’ve ever had.

To Liam, who keeps us all sane. Steady on, mate.

To Zayn, who always offers a shoulder to cry on (and a cigarette).

To Niall, the king of late-night chats (and snacks).

To Harry, for everything, forever.

Introduction by Harry Styles

Before she was my wife, Y/N Styles was Y/N Y/L/N. We met in 2011, six months before we would be setting out on the Up All Night tour. Even though I had been on TV, in recording studios, and performed live on the X Factor Live Tour 2011, I was still just a shy kid from Holmes Chapel who couldn’t quite believe his luck. I think I spent that whole year in a state of disbelief, afraid that at any moment, someone would tell me that it was all a joke and I wasn’t very good at singing, actually. Every time I took a shower, I half-expected Ashton Kutcher to jump out at me from behind the shower curtain. Y/N, on the other hand, walked into the conference room at Columbia Records, sat down at the head of the table, folded her arms across her chest, and asked us each, individually, if we had read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and, if so, how did we feel about it? Immediately, I knew that this girl was going to be someone special.

Her dad, Greg Y/L/N, was going to be our tour manager. When it was time for the label to put a team together, he was at the top of the list: a goofy dad with a daughter around our age who had toured with some of the biggest musicians of the 90s. He was the perfect choice for a bunch of kids who didn’t really know what they were doing: industry experience to make sure the day-to-day operations went smoothly, and the paternal instinct to protect us as best he could (we called him Papa Bear, which he pretended to hate, but we all knew he secretly loved it). 

We grew up together, spent months on end traveling the world, learning algebra on private planes and sneaking out of hotel rooms to wander foreign cities in the middle of the night. Fast forward to today. While Y/N was pregnant with Willa, our second child, she spent the whole third trimester on bed rest. Eventually, she got so bored that she scrolled all the way back on iCloud. Our older daughter, Hazel, was fascinated by the pictures of me and the band, and Y/N spent hours recounting our days on tour. I told her that she should write a book, but she refused at first. We have enough money, she said. People will think I’m making a cash grab. I told her that was bollocks, but if she really felt that way, she could donate all the profits to charity. It’s perfect, really, I said. The 20-year anniversary of One Direction is coming up, and it would be cool to give the fans a peek behind the scenes. Really, there’s no one better than you, darling, because you know the real us. She agreed, but only if all five of us were okay with it, and if all of the proceeds could go to The Trevor Project. So really, it’s actually me you should be thanking for convincing her to do this in the first place.

Anyways, here it is. The Story of Our Life: Growing Up With the World’s Biggest Boy Band, written by my amazing wife, Y/N Styles. 

Chapter 5

Out of all the One Direction boys, Louis was the first one to get his driver's license in America. He spent the few months leading up to the Where We Are tour with his girlfriend in California, and wanted to buy a fancy car to drive her around in. Hence, the license. So, when the tour made its way to North America, he somehow managed to convince my dad and the security team to let him drive us from the hotel to the venue a few times. Of course, the windows were tinted (and we were not allowed to open them), we were surrounded by a security detail, and there was always a bodyguard in the backseat, but it didn’t matter. 

On the night of the second show in Detroit, we all piled into a tricked-out Toyota Sienna, the best minivan on the market in 2011. Louis and Liam sat up front, I was squished between Harry and Niall in the middle, and Zayn and the bodyguard sat in the way back. We had the radio blasting and were singing along to some absolute bangers, like Party Rock Anthem and Super Bass, when the first few notes of Story of My Life started playing. Louis groaned and reached over to change the station, but I leaned forwards and slapped his hand out of the way before he could, turning the volume up a few notches. 

“Written in these walls are the stories that I can’t explain,” I sang along with Harry’s voice, turning to look at him with a mischievous smirk. He was mouthing along but bit his lip as soon as I caught him. Liam piped up with his part and I shook my head, laughing. 

“Do you guys seriously only ever sing your parts?” I asked. Next to me, I felt Niall shrug. 

“Feels wrong to sing someone else’s, even off stage,” he said, before chiming in on the background vocals as Zayn jumped in on his part. 

“Well, you should do it anyway, just for fun.” Liam turns around and lifts his eyebrows in a silent challenge. Harry and Niall jumped in, and soon we were all belting out the words to every part.

When the final chorus came up, I turned to rest my head on Harry’s shoulder, singing his part back to him. He was usually the shameless one, but his cheeks were tinted pink and he stopped singing for a few seconds. His green eyes were wide, but they never once left my own. I felt his chest rise and fall in a deep, steadying breath before he began singing again. 

From that moment on, Story of My Life was our song. Every time they performed it, he turned towards the side of the stage during the last chorus, where I sang along. On the rare occasions that I sat in the audience, his eyes always managed to find mine. We sang lines to each other all the time. Our favorite thing to do, much to everyone else’s dismay, was yell Zayn’s pre-chorus to each other from across a room. 

“And I’ll be gone, gone, tonight,” one of us would start. 

“The ground beneath my feet is open wide,” the other would respond. 

“The way that I’ve been holding on too tight,” the first person would say, before we both shouted, “With nothing in betweeeeeeeen!” That line was always the loudest, and we always dragged out the last syllable until we couldn’t breathe anymore. 

Chapter 9

When Harry’s solo album dropped, I was in class, taking my Algebra 101 final. My test-taking nerves were multiplied tenfold by the fact that I knew people were listening to it right now, and I wasn’t. We had kept in touch after One Direction broke up, mostly over text but occasionally, when he was in LA, he came to my house to have dinner with me and my Grandma (and Dad, if he was home).

I listened to it all the way through on the drive back home to Pasadena after I finished my exam, and as soon as I pulled into the driveway, I texted him. 

I signed up for a presale code, and refreshed my laptop continuously for five straight minutes in order to get tickets for his LA show. Harry was furious with me. When I texted him that I was officially coming to the show, he called me in the middle of a meeting with his tour team to yell at me. Something along the lines of, “I put you on the VIP list, you dumbass! And invites to the afterparty were just sent out yesterday!”

To be fair, I just wanted to support my friend, and to this day I still feel uncomfortable asking for free tickets from anyone when I have the means to pay for them. I think it’s all the guilt from five years of attending One Direction concerts for free. But anyways, that next fall, I found myself backstage at the Greek Theater with a VIP badge around my neck, feeling intense deja vu as security led me to Harry’s dressing room. 

“Y/N!” He yelled as soon as the door opened. I had no time to react; I was nearly knocked over by the force of his hug. His mom and sister were there, too, and I was passed around for more hugs before settling next to Harry on the couch. 

“So, how’s it going? How’s school?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. That’s one of the things I love most about Harry; no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen someone, he always picks back up like no time has passed. He is scary good at keeping up with what everyone else is doing, even when his own life 

“Kicking my ass already and it’s only been three weeks,” I said with a chuckle. “But better than last year, that’s for sure!” Harry’s brows furrowed and he waited expectantly. “Did I not tell you that my original roommate was psycho?”

“No, I don’t think that’s come up before.” I pulled up a photo on my phone and handed it over to him without a word, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyes wider than they were in that moment. 

“Holy shit,” she said.

“I wanna see!” Gemma whined, leaning across the coffee table to snatch the phone from him. “Oh my god, Mum, look!” She handed the phone to Anne, who frowned down at it. 

“This was your dorm?”

“For all of three days, yes,” you answered. “I’m not sure what creeped me out more, the life-sized cardboard cutout of Harry watching my every move, or the fact that she threatened to blackmail me if I didn’t introduce her to you.” Harry was doubled over with laughter with tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. 

“What are the chances of you, of all people, rooming with a crazy One Direction fan in college?” he asked, struggling to breathe enough to support his vocal chords. 

“The school investigated and they found an invoice for a private investigator on her computer in a folder with a bunch of my personal information and photos of me that looked like they were taken from behind bushes and trash cans. Apparently, she gave him that paparazzi photo from the week we were in London during On the Road Again and he was able to track me down.”

“He was able to figure out your identity from that photo?” I nodded, and Harry looked impressed, yet mildly disturbed. “She must’ve paid a fortune.” The photo in question features all five members of One Direction on their way into the O2 arena, and in the background, you can see the blurry back of my head as I slipped into the back door ahead of them.

When it was time for Harry to get ready, a security guard led Anne, Gemma, and I to the VIP section and we settled in for the show. He killed it on stage, and it was great to see him back in his element, joking with the fans between songs and waving to everyone he made eye contact with. He performed What Makes You Beautiful and the cheers were so loud, even in the small-theater setting, that I knew I would probably have trouble hearing tomorrow. 

“Alright, now normally I’d go straight into Kiwi, but there’s someone special in the audience today and this next song means a lot to the both of us, and she was the one who told me to sing all of the parts even though it feels weird, I hope you’ll forgive me for making you wait a few more minutes,” he said with a smirk, knowing that no one was going to complain about an extra song. My smile widened and Anne wrapped an arm around me, squeezing my shoulder, to acknowledge how special this moment was about to be. Just like old times, Harry looked straight at me as the intro music started to play. 

“Written in these walls are the stories that I can’t explain,” he began, and immediately tears started welling up behind my eyes. I joined in, leaning my head on Anne’s shoulder for support. When he got to the second pre-chorus, he yelled out “And I’ll be gone, gone, tonight!” and held out his mic for the audience to sing the next line, but I caught an almost-imperceptible wink as he smiled up at me and I knew that he could care less if anyone else chimed in.

“The fire beneath my feet is burning bright,” Anne, Gemma, and I screamed, hoping that we were loud enough for him to pick our voices out of the crowd. 

He sang the next line, and so did the audience, but I kept my mouth shut and joined in on the last line. He dragged out “between” so long that he had to jump back in on “I take her home.” I was the only one still singing along with him at that point, and the audience let out confused laughter, looking back and forth trying to figure out why he wasn’t moving on yet. 

Chapter 11

We’ve never talked about how we got together, and once the gossip magazines found out that I was the daughter of One Direction’s former tour manager, they just filled in the blanks themselves. I try not to read those things, but I do remember seeing a few headlines like “CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS RECONNECTED!” over that grainy paparazzi photo of us in Holmes Chapel before the Manchester Love on Tour stops. Others spun the fact that I was doing PR on the tour into a fake “HARRY STYLES KISSES EMPLOYEE” scandal, and it just spiraled out of control from there. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

When the pandemic hit, I was at home in Pasadena with my dad and grandma. We had no other “bubble” because my grandma was immunocompromised. Needless to say, I got very bored very quickly. It got to the point that I would cycle through the contacts on my phone, Facetiming everyone in alphabetical order by last name until someone picked up. Harry was one of the only people who answered every single time. We ended up calling each other almost every day, sometimes to chat, or just to have someone there, in the background, while we went about our days. He was with his band, working on what would eventually become Harry’s House, and I spent many days listening to them work through different lyric and melody combinations while curled up in my childhood bedroom with my work laptop. He even interrupted a Zoom meeting I was in, once, excited to play part of “Music for a Sushi Restaurant” for me.

I was working remotely for a PR firm, after graduating college in 2020, my options were limited and, in the end, the place only gave me an offer because they worked with Columbia Records and knew my dad. I mostly wrote copy about movies to be put on Wikipedia or IMDB, which was super boring, so Harry seriously saved my life by letting me listen in on his studio sessions, or to the audio of whatever show he was watching and his commentary. 

By the time he was able to start prepping for Love on Tour, I was working at the firm’s office building on Sunset,  just about ready to quit my job and sell foot pics online. 

“Come on tour with me,” he said, (seemingly) impulsively, during one of our Facetime sessions in which he patiently listened to me complain about how Mark from accounting wouldn’t stop coming over to my desk to “chat” every hour on the hour. 

“What?” I answered, laughing a little. 

“Seriously, Y/N, it’ll be just like old times! We can race on the dolleys they use to bring the speakers in, and I’ll even let you win this time.” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s not really winning, then, is it?”

“Okay, fine, I won’t let you win. But I am serious, Y/N. You should join me on tour.”

“What am I supposed to do, just follow you around the world like some sad, desperate groupie?”

“I mean, you are a bit sad and desperate.” I flipped him off, to which he responded by cackling with laughter. 

“I’m sad because my job sucks, and desperate to get away from Mark, not to get into your pants.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be my mistress, you’d be doing PR for the tour, obviously.” Harry’s cheeks flushed with the slightest hint of pink, 

“Well, maybe you should have led with that!” I started laughing, too, and it took a while for either of us to be able to speak again. 

“Okay, sorry, I’ll start over.” He took a deep breath to calm his giggles, but still couldn’t manage to keep a straight face. “Y/N Y/L/N, I would like to formally request that you join me as my PR Manager for Love on Tour. My publicist is about to give birth, like, any day now so she obviously can’t go gallivanting around the world. Really, you’d be doing me a favor, and who better than someone who already has my dressing room requests memorized since half of them are actually yours.” 

“You still have the same dressing room requests?” I gave him a skeptical look. 

“Old habits die hard.” He shrugged. “And even though I don’t drink Diet Coke, having it in the fridge makes it feel like you’re there with me.” The pink was now red and I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling too wide. 

“Alright, Mr. Styles, you have a deal.”

Like he said, old habits die hard, so even though we were now adults and my dad wasn’t on tour with us, we still fell into our old routines. Back in the day, I was never allowed to be alone in a room with one of the boys, but we had our ways around it. Usually by walking through the hallways of the floor of the hotel everyone was staying on, checking in with the guards stationed at either side on every loop. So while we could have hung out in our rooms, more often than not, we walked through the hotel hallways in circles just like we used to. 

The night before the Pittsburgh show, Harry showed up at my door at 10pm with a bag of sour gummy worms. 

“It’s not Haribo, but it’s close enough,” he said with a shrug, flashing me his trademark “Harry Styles” grin. And just like that, we were off to wear a hole in the carpet, or so I thought. We hadn’t even made it through one full loop before he pulled me through a random door marked “Employees Only” and dragged me up three flights of stairs. 

“Are you taking me somewhere private so you can murder me?” I asked as we trudged through the dirty stairwell. 

“Something like that,” he answered. But when we reached the top, he opened another door and we were on the roof. 

The view was gorgeous, the moon was bright and cast a cool glow on the Pittsburgh skyline. I turned to Harry with wide eyes.

“Scoped it out earlier,” he said with a sheepish smile on his lips. “Just thought we could use a change of scenery.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand in thanks. “As much as I love hotel hallways, this is better.”

We sat on the edge of the roof, dangling our legs over the top of the building next door, and passed the bag of gummy worms back and forth as we talked. We were out there for so long that my eyelids started to get heavy and our conversation slowed down. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around me, huddling closer for warmth (or so I thought). 

“Wanna listen to some music?” He asked. I nodded and he pulled his Airpods out, sticking one in my ear and the other in his own. 

Story of My Life started playing and my heart rate sped up, pulsing adrenaline through my body. Suddenly, I was wide awake and hyper aware of every place our bodies were touching (thighs, hips, my shoulder to his chest, his shoulder to my head, his arm on my bicep). 

I lifted my head up and turned to look at him.

“Do you ever get sick of this song?” I asked. My voice was quiet because I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know the answer. 

“No,” he replied. His voice was low and raspy and it made my stomach flutter. I felt myself leaning in, unconsciously, as he continued. “It reminds me of you, and I could never get sick of you.” 

He brought his free hand up to my face and rubbed his thumb in soft circles on my cheekbone, and his eyes flickered down to my lips. The distance between us closed as if we were replaying something that had already happened in slow motion. Eventually, I could just barely feel the soft brush of his lips against mine. My mouth fell open just a bit in anticipation of what was to come, but Harry paused. 

“It’s you, Y/N,” he whispered.”It’s always been you.”

Feel free to cross my name out and write in your own, I won’t be mad. I get it; what really happened was better than any self-insert fanfiction.

Chapter 17

I’m going to keep most of the details of our wedding private, but I will tell you about our first dance, because it ties into a lot of the other stories that I’ve written about. If you haven’t noticed by now, Story of My Life is sort of the underlying theme of this book, and that’s because it’s been the underlying theme of my life, the soundtrack to my relationship with Harry. 

After dinner, and some absolutely mental toasts, Harry and I were eager to get the party started. Even though he’s not the best dancer, I have never met anyone who dances with as much joy as Harry does, and I love getting pulled into his wild, spontaneous routines. But our first dance was different. The fairy lights surrounding the garden were twinkling in the moonlight, and Niall, Liam, Louis, and Zayn stood on the sidelines to sing, you guessed it, Story of My Life. We swayed in circles, gently, without trying to put on a show or impress anyone else. It was a beautiful, full circle moment, and the boys even dragged out “between” just a little bit to tease us. 

Life is funny. One minute, you’re sixteen and screaming “The fire beneath my feet is burning bright,” at your best friend and you think that this is it, you will be touring the world with your friends forever, and the next you’re twenty-seven and in a wedding dress, leaving mascara stains on the shoulder of his suit. But I wouldn’t change a thing, because I think it was written in the walls all along. 

[scotianostra]

On 14th March 1952 we saw the first TV programme to be broadcast in Scotland

The broadcast showed the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society performing the Duke of Edinburgh Reel.

The BBC’s new television studios, grandly called Broadcasting House, were located at 5 Queen Street. The invitation had specified “Dress -- Highland or Dinner Jacket”.

Guests included Scotland’s aristocratic and cultural elite (Highland attire), plus a handful of London-based BBC executives (Dinner Jackets) who had ventured to their new outpost in what they saw as the frozen North.

In the main studio, the VIP audience was in the focus of live television cameras and the atmosphere was tense. The pictures on the monitor screens were small and horizontally lined, and , of course, in black and white.

In his speech opening the transmitter, the Secretary of State for Scotland, James Stuart, found the time to put in a good word for John Logie Baird. This was followed by a Prayer of Dedication by the Very Rev Charles L. Warr, Dean of the Thistle and Chapel Royal.

After a Vote of Thanks by James Miller, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, the stage was taken over by the first live television entertainment from Scotland: a performance by the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society, with Tim Wright and his band.

By 8 p.m. the studio was off the air and the tension relaxed. A buffet was opened and glasses of wine appeared while the guests watched the rest of the evening’s programme from London, starting with Television Newsreel.

The show was seen by a large audience in England but the Scottish viewing numbers were small, with only 2730 licence holders on record as of March 14 1952, this in a time where only the very few dared not to have a Licence! In Helensburgh, John Logie Baird’s birthplace, there were just ten licence holders.

Five years later it was the turn of STV.

"This is Scotland" was an hour of entertainment, anchored by James Robertson Justice, to mark the opening of STV on August 31st 1957.

STV dispensed with dignitaries and there was no prayer of dedication, but instead a big variety show featuring singers and dancers and other celebrities including Alastair Sim, Ludovic Kennedy and Stanley Baxter.

The STV programme has considerable Helensburgh interest, including Jimmy Logan in his prime, and a film clip from the south of France in which Deborah Kerr was interviewed with David Niven. John Logie Baird was not forgotten; James Robertson Justice paid him an elaborate tribute and showed a replica of the early 'Televisor' set.

Jack Buchanan in the inevitable top hat and tails; rather incongruously he led the audience in a chorus of " belong to Glasgow. It must have been one of Buchanan’s last public appearances, he was to die of cancer just two months after the STV opening.

[burlveneer-music]

Slowdive - everything is alive - indubitably today's biggest release

The fifth album from shoegaze giants Slowdive contains the duality of a familiar internal language mixed with the exaltation of new beginnings. everything is alive is transportive, searching and aglow, the work of a classic band continuing to pitch its unmistakable voice to the future. Six years after the group’s monumental self-titled album, everything is alive finds Slowdive—vocalists and guitarists Rachel Goswell and Neil Halstead, guitarist Christian Savill, bassist Nick Chaplin, and drummer Simon Scott—locating evermore contours of its immersive, elemental sound. everything is alive, is exactly what the title suggests: an exploration into the shimmering nature of life and the universal touch points within it. Spanning psychedelic soundscapes, pulsating 80’s electronic elements and John Cale inspired journeys, the album lands immediately as something made for the future; which figures, as their fanbase has grown younger and younger as time has gone on, and their influence on forward thinking musical artists continues to prevail. For a genre that is often thought of as divisive, and often warrants introspection, here Slowdive show their craft as the masters of it by pushing it outwards, beyond the singular; the end result being a record which feels as emotional and cathartic as it is optimistic.  Recorded at The Courtyard Studio in Sutton Courtenay, The Farm 2 in St Merryn, Cornwall and Chapel Studios in South Thoresby PERFORMER LINE-UP: Vocals by Rachel Goswell Guitars by Christian Savill Bass guitar by Nick Chaplin Drums and electronics by Simon Scott Guitars, keys, protools and vocals by Neil Halstead

[kembleford1953]

Filming has started today on the third series of the hugely popular BBC Studios Continuing Drama production, Sister Boniface Mysteries. Series three is a co-production for Britbox International and UKTV’s Drama channel and will include a feature length Christmas special written by series creator Jude Tindall and directed by Ian Barber.

Britain is in the grips of the ‘Big Freeze’ – the worst winter on record. Sister Boniface and her fellow travellers are stranded in a train after a frozen coupling snaps, leaving the last carriages stranded in snow. When The Star of the Orient, a precious jewel, is stolen from its safe and a passenger is discovered murdered, Sister Boniface must use her exceptional detection skills to decide who among the suspects is responsible. But with little signs of rescue and a failing generator, passengers must also contend with a more pressing issue – freezing to death.

Elsewhere in the series a famous organist is murdered mid-tune in the chapel, Great Slaughter’s first sci-fi convention results in a mysterious kidnapping and a ‘dead cert’ at the screen tests for the new ‘Agent Best’ ends up, well… dead.  To top it all, Felix has a challenge of his own when his fiancée Victoria arrives from Bermuda with an ultimatum which could change everything…

[lochnessmonsterofficial]

Not to complain about my job which i actually love a lot.

But one of the collections managers is having some health problems (prayers) so she has made me her unofficial replacement which is totally fine but she happens to be the collection manager that does The Most of any of the collections managers so not only do I have over 250 new objects to accession into the museum's collection, which includes research, writing descriptions, measuring, finding donor info, finding a place for them to live in the stacks, and photography (which everybody is so god damn particular about despite the fact that my setup consists of broken tripods topped with improvised foam toppers holding flashlights instead of studio lights), I also have to do multiple researcher visits, averaging about one per week, and each visit takes at least one full day to arrange, prepare for, supervise, aid, record, and clean up from, AND fulfill all the random extra requests like some guy in Chapel Hill asking for higher resolution photos of an object in our collection or an artist wanting to browse through the stacks for ~inspiration~. And all of this is ON TOP of my actual job, which is to help literally EVERY collections manager with anything they need, and since I'm on campus doing all the work for this one person everybody on that campus has noticed me around and is like "oh yeah Ellie would be perfect for this task", which ends up being like - pack ten 1400 year old extremely fragile japanese ceramic vessels for transport to main campus for a class next week, and also 12 Indonesian shadow puppets. And somehow now I'm sort of quasi-supervising a PhD student museum fellow and teaching her how to do collections manager-y stuff. I used to be able to go to my one LITERALLY ONE stupid little lunchtime anthropology brown bag lecture at lunchtime on Fridays and it was ONE hour out of my week that I got to chill out and learn something and now it's gone and I am just. Cataloging.

So anyway please pray for your local university museum collections assistants it's rough out here.

[astonishinglegends]

Ep 292: American Bloodfalls with Tom Maxwell Part

"Usually these things of the accursed have been hushed up or disregarded—suppressed like the seven black rains of Slains—but, upon March 3, 1876, something occurred, in Bath County, Kentucky, that brought many newspaper correspondents to the scene."  -- From Charles Fort’s ‘The Book of the Damned’ c. 1919, Chapter 4

Description:

In our conclusion to our two-part series on American Bloodfalls, we dive deeper into the mysterious phenomenon that baffled witnesses across 19th-century America. Our special guest, Tom Maxwell, guides us through more perplexing incidents of blood and meat raining from the sky, from the famous Kentucky Meat Shower of 1876 to the final recorded event in 1902. We examine the scientific analyses of the time, which often identified the fallen material as animal tissue yet failed to propose any reasonable theories about its origins. Tom helps us navigate the theories proposed over the years and why they fall short when confronted with eyewitness accounts and the scale of events. We’ll discuss connections to biblical accounts and consider how these events might reflect their time's cultural and spiritual climate. Then, of course, we’ll get to the theories, even though the mundane ones have been tough to identify with this legend. But yes, portals and UFOs will probably make the scene.. Tom helps us grapple with how these occurrences challenge humanity’s modern, materialist worldview and why meat showers and bloodfalls seem to have ceased by the early 20th century. Even after all of this time, they continue to defy explanation. However, that won’t stop us from trying to figure it out.

Reference Links:

The Nat Turner Project

Clinton, North Carolina

“The Holy Tale Behind the Cedars of Lebanon”

Olympian Springs, Olympia, Bath County, Kentucky

“KENTUCKY MEAT SHOWER: A Documented Sample Found Is From An Animal’s Lung!”

Nostoc

Chatham County, North Carolina

Jordan Lake State Recreation Area, North Carolina

Joseph B. Stone House from the Chatham County Historical Association

William Lloyd Garrison

Gerard Troost

Joel 2, from the King James Version of the Bible

The Manna Machine book

Kingsway recording studios, New Orleans, Louisiana

“Mutilation of "Snippy" the horse”

“The God of Pity” by Tom Maxwell on Medium.com

Tom Maxwell’s essay, “"For the Scrutiny of Science and the Light of Revelation": American Blood Falls��� an article from Southern Cultures 18:1, Spring 2012 from The University of North Carolina Press

Tom Maxwell’s website, TomMaxwell.com

The “Kentucky Meat Shower”

“The Great Kentucky Meat Shower mystery unwound by projectile vulture vomit” on Scientific American

Nat Turner’s Rebellion

“UFO legend: Horse found dead and mutilated 55 years ago in Colorado gets new life at roadside attraction” from The Gazette

Shakers – “a millenarian restorationist Christian sect”

Charles Fort

“Ep 230: Charles Hoy Fort – Our Supernatural Father Part 1” on AstonishingLegends.com

“Ep 231: Charles Hoy Fort – Our Supernatural Father Part 2” on AstonishingLegends.com

Lebanon, Tennessee

“Oakville Blobs: In 1994, Mysterious Gelatinous Goo Rained Down On Washington” on IFLScience.com

Blood Falls in Antarctica

Tom Maxwell’s book, “A Really Strange and Wonderful Time – The Chapel Hill Music Scene: 1989-1999”

Location:

Jordan Lake, Chatham County, NC - Approximate location of where New Hope Township would have been, which was the bloodfall that Frank Venable, Chemistry Professor and future President of the University of North Carolina (Chapel Hill), investigated.

Suggested reading:

Suggested Listening:

Click here:

From Tom Maxwell: shelved – a long-form documentary music podcast premiering on audible 12/12/24

Two Girls One Ghost Podcast

Would you believe there was a podcast that was haunted? It’s called Two Girls One Ghost. Hosts Corinne and Sabrina didn’t want to believe it at first, but seven years later and after hundreds of encounters submitted by listeners, they can no longer ignore it. Two Girls One Ghost is the most haunted podcast in America! We’re talking ghosts, EVPs in episodes, spirits making contact with listeners, orbs darting through their YouTube videos, and so much more. Paranormal enthusiasts, Sabrina and Corinne explore the deepest, darkest, spookiest places in the world, delivering doses of research, history and spine-tingling tales. If possessed kids crawling backwards up walls, campers entranced in fairy orgies, and creatures chasing drivers down back roads is your thing, tune in to Two Girls One Ghost wherever you listen to podcasts. New episodes are released every Thursday, and Sunday. And now, you can join Sabrina and Corinne every Tuesday on Patreon and share your own haunting tale LIVE on their Campfire Stories. Join the summerween trend and satisfy your spooky itch with Two Girls One Ghost, but be warned, side effects might include a haunting or two, so listen at your own risk!

From the Astonishing Legends Network:

Find us on YouTube!

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Click HERE or go to patreon.com/astonishinglegends to become one of our Patreon members and receive exclusive offerings, like our bonus Astonishing Junk Drawer episodes (posted every weekend the main show is dark) commercial-free episodes, and more!

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CREDITS:

Episode 292: American Bloodfalls Part 2. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess. Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel of VW Sound. Music and Sound Design by Allen Carrescia. Tess Pfeifle, Producer and Lead Researcher. Ed Voccola, Technical Producer. Research Support from The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2024 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

[catb-fics]

wait so they recorded parts of the 1st and 3rd albums in the same studio and it looks like the 2nd and 4th albums were recorded in the same place

Looks like it! I completely forgot about part of the balance being recorded in Chapel studios

[kosmos2999]

Star Trek: The Animted Series 50th Anniversary Episode Review

Episode: The Infinite Vulcan

Season: 1

Episode: 7

Stardate:

Original airdate: October 20, 1973

Written by: Walter Koenig

Directed by: Hal Sutherland

Music by: Yvette Blais and Jeff Michaels

Executive producers: Lou Scheimer and Norm Prescott

Studio: Filmation Associates

Network: NBC

Series created by: Gene Roddenberry

Cast:

Captain James T. Kirk (voice by William Shatner)

Mr. Spock, Spock 2 (voice by Leonard Nimoy)

Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy (voice by DeForest Kelly)

Lt. Uhura, Computer Voice (voice by Nichelle Nichols)

Lt. Hikaru Sulu (voice by George Takei)

Eng. Montgomery Scott, Agmar, Dr. Stavos Keniclus 5 (voices by James Doohan)

Nurse Christine Chapel (voice by Majel Barrett)

Synopsis:

The Enterprise is engaged in an exploring mission. A newly discovered planet on the pheripheral portion of the galaxy. An away team composed of Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, Mister Spock and Lieutenant Sulu is assembled to being beamed down to this world full of natural beauty but full of mystery.

At the arrival, they have found a city apparently abandoned by its inhabitants. They get confusing signals on their scanners and the readings of a power source on a building in front of them. While his teammates explore the inside of the building, Sulu finds a mobile plant and gets hurt mortally by one of its thorns. Kirk, McCoy and Spock came to his rescue once they listen to his scream for help.

The doctor applies one of his antidotes, but it is useless aganist the plant's poison. Then, a group of plant-like beings suddenly appeared. Their leader, Agmar offers a cure for Sulu but McCoy refusses the help. Kirk accepts the help from the natives and just when they apply their antidote, Sulu recovers very fast.

Agmar, the Phylosian told to the crew that they had an earlier contact with humans. One that brought the an infectious bactery that killed a generation of their own, but he also helped them to survive. As they are entering thru a cave, a flock of dragon-like flying plant-lifeforms attack the Enterprise's crew and kidnap Spock.

The Phylosians got a system that makes phasers not working, then a giant human appeared and the natives made a bow to him. He identifies as Doctor Stavos Keniclus 5, the man who saved the natives from extintion. He told the team that he needs Spock for his plans and also told them to leave the planet.

Kirk orders to beam up the rest of the crew.

On the bridge, Kirk orders Lt. Uhura to investigate any data about Keniclus 5. Meanwhile, the doctor tries to find a way to defend themselves against the plant-lifeforms by using a recepie for a pesticide from his gran-grandfather's farm.

Uhura found a record of a scientist Keniciclus who left the Earth after loosing the Eugenic Wars. Kirk is surprised and trying to guess how he survived after more than 200 years.

Kirk, McCoy and Sulu return to the planet's surface but much prepeared to rescue Spock. The natives brought them to a underground compound where Spock is located.

Inside the cave compound, they encounter again with Keniciclus 5. He reveals himself as the fifth generation clone of the original Dr. Keniciclus. His plan is to imposing peace by strenght to the galaxy by invading every single planet they could. For that reason, he produced a Mr. Spock's clone, Spock 2.

As soon as they learned Keniciclus 5's plans for galactic conquest, a new wave of the dragon-like flying plant-lifeforms made an attack. This time, the team is ready to counter using McCoy's pesticide formula as a weapon.

After a successfully defeat of the flying creatures, Kirk triex to reason with Keniciclus 5 that he is unaware of the present time. That there is no need to continue wars from the past because the Federation had brought peace thru the galaxy. Then Kirk had a conversation with Spock 2 about the illogical action of imposing peace thru strenght. Some that goes against the Vulcan philosophy of infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Something that simbolize the elements of truth and beauty.

Spock 2 asserts Kirk's words and changes his mind. Meanwhile, the original Spock is dying in a chamber because of a memory drain performed by the mad scientist, Keniciclus 5. Spock 2 performs a Vulcan mind meld to help his original self to recover.

At the end, Keniciclus 5 was feeling useless after his plans failed miserably, Kirk and the original Spock convince him to use all of his knowledge and strength to help on the restoring of the Phylosian civilization with the help of Spock 2. All of them agree on that.

Fascinating Facts:

This episode was written by Walter Koenig. Due to budget restrictions, Koenig was not cast for playing the role of Lieutenant Chekov in The Animated series, but he made his collaboration by writing this episode.

The Koenig's main source for inspiration for writing the story was the fact that cloning was a very discussed subject in that time.

The mobile plant-lifeform who attackes Sulu has the name of Retlaw. It is Walter spelled backwards. The idea came from a story of a comic book series where the aliens spoke bakwards.

The first reference to the Vulcan philosophy of Infinite Diversity In Infinite Combinations (or IDIC) was made in the third season episode of The Original Series titled “Is There In Truth No Beauty?” At first, Leonard Nimoy refused the idea for a symbol because he thought Gene Roddenberry's idea for merchandising its pin.

[winniehollings]

WINDSOR WINNIE HOLLINGS

name: windsor hollings nicknames: winnie, winds, windy, win. date of birth: may 26th zodiac: gemini sun, aries moon, aries rising age: 30 residence: studio apartment fc: kelsea ballerini skeleton: muse b - seven

Windsor was born and raised in a small town by a single dad who worked his arms off to give her the world, and that's how she was raised, to work very hard for what she wanted. She was kind to anyone and everyone she met, constantly bringing stray animals home, making new friends at recess and convincing everyone that kindness was the way forward.

From a very young age, Winnie loved to sing. Her dad did work on the local vocal teacher's house so she'd give Winnie lessons for free, and then did the same with the town's guitar teacher, and just like that, by the time she was 12, Winnie was singing in every chapel, performing on every stage they'd let her be at, and loving every second of it. She was destined for great things, not for this small town, and she knew it.

Her big break came at 18, when a scouter heard her play at a local bar, and offered her a recording deal. Things blew right up from there, and Winnie picked up her roots, her dad and her guitar and moved to Nashville. She'd lived there, performing all over the country, living the superstar life, with her dad as her manager and her best friend in the world.

Only now, when she tried to change her style a little, reinvent herself at thirty, did Windsor decide to change labels. Her dad had thrown down roots in Nashville, and didn't wanna move with her until she was properly settled, so she moved into a studio apartment on Cornelia Street with her labradoodle Felix.

[generoustreemystic]

Here is my birthday letter to The King of Rock and Roll Elvis Aaron Presley:

Dear Elvis,

Since I was born and raised in Memphis TN my whole life and I still live in Memphis to this day; you sir have changed my life in more ways than one!! Ever since I was a little girl, my parents would take my sister and I to Graceland on special occasions not to mention watched all your movies for movie night. As I got older, I kind of lost that connection with you while traveling city to city with my mother who was born and raised in the city life while my father on the other hand was born and raised in the country life which is something that has always been a part of me since birth. It wasn't until my family and I visited Sun Studio along with close friends to experience your first record deal along with famous musicians such as Johnny Cash until someone told me I have a little resemblance to you and stood on the same spot where you sang behind the microphone except I don't have raven black hair and blue eyes like you do but I took it as a compliment nonetheless?! Not too long ago, I was a bridesmaid at my friend's wedding in the chapel at Graceland seeing your wedding photos with Priscilla and the ceremony was beautiful! It wasn't until Austin Butler portrayed you in the movie Elvis and I felt a mix of deja vu and nostalgia all at once which brings me to happy tears!!! Elvis you have touched my unchained heart with your music, dramatic acting, sense of humor, and your kindhearted spirit!! I wish you were still around to give riding lessons and sing spiritual music and maybe give us dancing lessons but your legacy and spirit lives on even to this very day!!!

Happy birthday to yours truly,

Black Velvet 2023 ❤

@lavenderelvis