#and how long it took him to learn the lyrics and the chords

[nothinglastsforever222]

I think about this way too often

[cambion-companion]

The Devil's Bard

Thank you again for this prompt @superfunething :) Raphael is all-too-eager to have his ego stroked.

Raphael x reader (gn) | drabble

You strummed your lute, having sequestered yourself into a private corner of the Last Light Inn. You began tentatively tuning the old instrument, an heirloom of your family. The ashen wood glistened from the flickering firelight, the warmth of the hearth seeping cozily into the wool of your clothes.

It'd been too long since you'd had time and solitude enough to compose a new song. Since you had collaborated with Alfira, in fact. The itch was there, yet your creative mind had been held captive by none other than a fiend. A cambion. Raphael.

The image of his transformation inside that "House of Hope" where he'd whisked you. His promises spoken in a decadent low voice, rough yet soft. Those eyes, both human brown and devil yellow, staring right through all your outward bluster and bravado.

Wood creaked as you shifted your weight in the mahogany armchair, a discordant noise rose up while you strummed your lute in mild frustration.

Anything else. You would rather create your art around anything else. Flowers, the night sky, the Underdark even. Yet the only thoughts pervading your restless inspiration were those of cherry skin, musky fragrance and a sharp knowing smile.

You whispered the words at first, haltingly and quiet, not wanting to draw attention.

"False hope arrived on hidden wing.

To manor cold and haunted bring,

the weary, wandering and spent.

Those carrying a writhing tenant."

You sighed heavily. Now to create music for your lyrics. You began slow, building the base chords and singing the first verse more confidently after a few rounds. For a moment the world and your troubles melted into the background, your focus a blissfully familiar spotlight upon your work.

You felt sudden pressure as a firm hand gripped your shoulder.

"Hello, my lark." Raphael spoke from behind where you sat, the weight of his gaze upon your head. "As irresistible as the harpy's song, so I too had to investigate what music you were weaving."

He moved around you. Careful measured steps, till he looked down upon you and you up at him. His warm brown eyes caught the glow of firelight as he measured your blushing cheeks and the way you gripped your instrument.

Raphael tilted his head, in an amused air. "Those lyrics rang so familiar." He smiled, that knowing smile you remembered so well. "Almost as though I am the muse behind your making, but that would be presumptuous."

You grimaced. "Speak of the devil."

"Ah, so your little song is about me." Raphael seemed genuinely tickled by this and he chuckled and clapped his hands together once. He took the seat opposite you and slung one of his legs over his other thigh. "Do, please, go on! I so enjoy the extolling arts, especially when revolving around myself."

"What are you doing here, Raphael?" You raised a brow and glanced over your shoulder just in time to see little Mol look away.

"Business, as usual." Raphael leaned forward slightly, his own gaze never deviating from your firelit face. "The richest bounties can be found in the most desperate little havens. But you've learned that already." He smiled, a little sharply. "My most illustrious client. You've sent many souls skittering directly to my door."

"Maybe I should compose a song of warning to stay away from strange men wearing frilly collars." You bit out, your eyes narrowing as you tried again to see where Mol had disappeared to.

"That's the spirit!" Raphael chortled again and gestured graciously to your lute. "Spirit you have in such brilliant abundance, little lark. I find you ever more delightfully ebullient."

"A compliment, were it not for your nature." You said, a little terse of tongue now, growing uncomfortable with how attracted to this fiend you were becoming.

"Does it keep you up at night?" Raphael frowned, a hint of mockery in his cadence. "Tossing and turning upon that cold, hard ground. Desperate to dwell upon anything but the devil in your corner. Oh, come now." His hand found your knee and pressed you back down as you shifted to stand up. "Indulge me! We are friends. After all, what else are little birds for? Sing me your sweet song while I devise for you a safe, gilded cage."

[tinytinyblogs]

Chan In Love With You

Love

(n.) Giving the last piece of pizza no matter how much you want it.

Stray kids Masterlist here

Chan had been overworked for so long that he was starting to feel the effects. He was stressed, everything was a mess, and he felt like he couldn't handle it anymore. That night, he tried to avoid his studio because it was just too much for his brain. He decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air.

As he was walking, he stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light to change. As he was looking down at his phone, he caught a glimpse of someone standing next to him. He looked up and saw you.

Chan couldn't believe his eyes. He was standing in the middle of the street, and time seemed to have stopped. He was mesmerized by your beauty. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. He watched as you turned to look at him. Your eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of electricity run through his body. He smiled at you, but he was too nervous to say anything. He didn't want to come across as a creep, especially since you had just met randomly on the street.

You smiled back at him, and for a moment, he thought he was going to faint. He had never felt so flustered before. He wanted to talk to you, but he didn't know what to say. He was afraid that he would say something stupid and make a fool of himself.

Chan couldn't stop thinking about you. He went back to the same spot on the street every day, hoping to see you again. He would wait for hours, just to catch a glimpse of your beautiful smile. One day, he finally worked up the courage to talk to you. He said hello, and you smiled at him. He asked you if you were going home after work, and you said yes. He walked with you, and you talked for hours.

Chan learned that you were a kind, intelligent, and funny. He was falling in love with you, but he was too shy to say anything. He just kept walking with you, day after day, hoping that one day he would be brave enough to tell you how he felt. In the meantime, he took baby steps to get closer to you. He would let out a small "hi" every day, and then he would ask you how your day was going. He would compliment you on your clothes or your hair. He would make you laugh.

Chan was surprised to find how comfortable he felt around you. He could talk to you about anything, and you always knew how to make him feel better. You were a good listener, and you always had a kind word to say. Chan started to open up to you about his life. He told you about his dreams, his fears, and his struggles. You listened patiently, and you never judged him. You just offered your support and understanding. Chan started to feel like he could be himself around you. He didn't have to pretend to be someone he wasn't. He could just be himself, and you would accept him for who he was.

Chan was sitting in his studio, humming to himself as he worked on a new song. He was pouring all of his feelings into the music, and he was feeling really inspired. He was clicking away on his mouse, adding in new chords and lyrics as he went. Chan didn't really pay attention to what he was writing. He was so focused on the music that he just let the words flow out of him. He didn't even realize that he was writing a love song until he was finished. When he read the lyrics, he was surprised to see that they were all about you. He had been thinking about you so much that he had subconsciously written a song about you.

Chan changed a lot after he met you. He used to be overworked and stressed out all the time, but you helped him to see that he needed to take care of himself. You told him that he was important, and that he needed to take some time for himself. Chan listened to you, and he started to take better care of himself. He started to get enough sleep, and he started to eat healthier. He also started to exercise more. Chan's mood improved dramatically. He was no longer stressed out all the time, and he was always in a good mood. He especially loved seeing your face, and he knew that he could always count on you to make him laugh. He was finally able to enjoy life, and he knew that it was all thanks to you.

Chan knew that he couldn't just tell you how he felt. He had to do something more. He had to show you how he felt. So he decided to create an album for you. He poured all of his love and passion into the album. He wrote the songs, he produced the music, and he even designed the album art. The album was a masterpiece. It was a collection of love songs that perfectly captured Chan's feelings for you. The songs were beautiful, the music was soulful, and the lyrics were heartfelt.

It had been a few days since you had last seen Chan. He didn't show up in front of your apartment, he didn't send any texts, and he didn't walk you home. You were starting to get worried. You knew that Chan could be overworked. You hadn't heard from him in days, and you didn't know if he was okay. You wanted to text him, but you were too scared to. You didn't want to bother him if he was busy. But you were also worried that something might be wrong.

Chan missed you a lot. He missed your smile, your laugh, and the way you made him feel. But he knew that he had to finish the confession album first. He wanted to give you something special, and he knew that the album would be the perfect way to do it. After two weeks of hard work, the album was finally finished. Chan was so proud of himself, and he couldn't wait to show you. He waited until the time you finished your work and went home. He stood there in the same spot where he had first seen you, and he smiled when he saw you coming.

You were so happy to see Chan. You had been looking forward to this moment all day. He apologized for not being able to come earlier, and he said that he had something for you. Once you and Chan got into your apartment, he handed you the album he had been talking about. You didn't think much about it at first, but then you saw the title: "My Confession." You opened the album, and you saw that it was full of love songs. The songs were all about you.

You were stunned. You couldn't believe that Chan had written all of these songs for you. You listened to the first song, and you were immediately hooked. Chan's soft voice was perfect for the song, and the lyrics were so beautiful. When the song was over, you looked up at Chan. He was standing there with a smile on his face. "It's all about you," he said. "I'm so glad I met you that day. You changed my life, and I can't imagine my life without you. Please be mine." You smiled back at him. You knew that you had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Chan hugged you tightly, and you kissed him. You were so happy to be with him, and you knew that you would be together forever.

[the-pink-poet]

The Shadowsinger and the Lightbringer

Part 1 Part 2

My eyes widened as Rhys detailed his plan to contact the mortal queens and get half the book of breathings. My gaze darted between my three sisters and the males, waiting for someone to speak up.

                Azriel noticed my frantic gaze and held it, giving me a soft smile that calmed something in me. I took a deep breath and came back to the conversation.

                By the end, my sisters finally agreed to let our home be the meeting place for the queens and the High Lord’s Inner Circle, as he called them. I could tell that Nesta was less than happy with the arrangements, but she held her tongue (eventually).

                I breathed a sigh of relief as everyone stood up and began milling around the house, Feyre’s friends going to their rooms, and my sisters going to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat for dinner in a couple of hours.

                Not being inclined to join my sisters after their awful attitudes towards Feyre and her friends, I went off to a side room where a piano sat, and began to play, softly singing an old song.

A shadow sings its soft song

To the newly shining dawn

But will the dawn heed the call

Of the dark and swirling throngs

I paused as soft footsteps sounded behind me, “I’m surprised you know that song. It dates before the treaty.” The Shadowsinger approached my side, “Don’t let me stop you.” His hazel eyes pierced into mine once again.

                Blushing slightly, I turned back towards the piano and continued playing and singing, the keys of the piano clicking softly under my fingers.

But the shadows are aware

That the dawn itself is scared

So, he approaches soft and slow

And the dawn and shadows grow

                I almost stopped playing as Azriel softly began singing along, a soft and deep baritone voice that almost took my breath away.

But if the dark and the dawn

Learn to sing the same song

Then they will see, what could be

What was meant to all along

                I softly played the last few chords, and stood there breathless, the sound of his voice still echoing within me. “You have a beautiful voice.” I whispered, and he chuckled a little behind me, “I don’t usually sing in front of others, but I heard you playing and thought I’d see who was singing so beautifully.”

                My face turned red again, and I turned away. He gently put his hand on my shoulder, making my gaze turn towards him again and he smiled, “What else do you know how to play?”

                A soft smile returned to my face, and I scooted over, making room for him on the bench beside me, and began to play. I giggled as a shadow tickled my neck, almost as if it was trying to look over my shoulder at the keys. I’m not sure how long we sat there, singing old songs together, and laughing when Azriel fumbled through the lyrics of newer songs.

It was in the middle of one of these newer songs when a knock sounded on the door, and Feyre called out, “Dinner’s ready! Wrap it up you two.”

I smiled, shut the lid on the piano, and turned to Azriel, who stood up and held his hand out to me, “Shall we?” I smiled softly, taking his hand in answer, and he walked me to the dining room, while shadows swirled at our feet.

We walked into the dining room, and I rolled my eyes at the sight that met us. Unsurprisingly, Elain sat at the table next to Nesta, looking slightly less uncomfortable than before, but still awkward. Nesta was sitting next to Cassian, glaring daggers at him as he smirked after saying something that obviously irked her. Feyre sat next to Rhys, looking worriedly at our sisters.

Azriel leaned over and whispered something into my ear, “Looks like we missed something fun.” I smacked his arm, and he pulled out the chair for me, pushing it in as I sat. He sat next to me, and looked quizzically at Cassian trying to figure out what had happened while we were gone. He just shrugged and Azriel looked at me, shrugging as well.

I reached over my plate to begin piling potatoes and green beans onto my plate, handing them to Azriel. He did the same, and I noticed him shifting his wings oddly behind him, trying to be mindful of the back of the chair, “Are you ok?”

He smiled at me, ��Yes, Illyrians typically aren’t used to human chairs as all.” I smacked my forehead and moved to get up, “Let me get a stool for you then,” He grabbed my hand before I could move even further, “It’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

I raised my eyebrow, “Are you sure? It won’t take very long.” But he just shook his head and smiled, “No, please don’t worry about it. I’m fine, really.” I gave him a questioning look, not quite believing him, “Alright. If you’re sure about it.” He chuckled, “Yes I’m sure.” And he began eating his food.

I sighed at the warm potatoes and lightly salted green beans, such a contrast to the food that we had been living off the last several years. Even though we’d been living in our new home and social life for several months now, it never ceased to amaze me the new luxuries at our fingertips. Feyre however, seemed to have a different idea.

Nesta glared at her from across the table, “What? Is the food not up to your fine taste now?” Feyre swallowed thickly and looked down sadly. Rhysand stepped in, “You have to understand that the food where we come from is much different, and while I’m sure by human standards your food is incredible, once one tastes our food things pale in comparison.”

Nesta turned her fiery gaze towards Rhys, “Well I’m sorry if our food doesn’t meet the standards of the mighty High Fae.” Rhys just shook his head and kept eating.

I leaned over to Azriel and whispered, “Is it really that bad?” He looked back at me and made a face, “It could be worse.” I snorted and earned a glare from Nesta across the table, but I didn’t care. My snort made Azriel chuckle a little, which got Cassian looking between the two of us again. I wonder why he kept doing that.

Thankfully, the awkward dinner was over soon, and we all retired to bed for the night. I sighed as I lay my head down on the pillow. Something about Azriel was just… different. A small smile danced on my face and I giggled, snuggling further into the blankets.

Part 3 will be up soon!

Let me know what y'all think!

[nutluvs]

musicians in love - fluff

javier escuella x fem!reader

hellooo! 🤍 🪻 this is my first rdr2 post! some things i should point out: • i take requests, i rarely do smut but i always do fluff and angst • requests can be of any rdr2 character, whether major or minor • expect a lot of posts of charles smith, he's my husband and i love him bunches. • i mostly do short writings, but i can also do headcanons if requested! 🪻 warnings for this piece: maybe a little sloppy; it's my first time writing for javier, don't yell at me. also i don't even know how long this is, but it's kinda long.

you never thought of yourself as a terrible singer—you felt you were alright. you just needed some rounding out over a few roughened edges, after you took a few years off of your singing practice. not only did you need practice, but you needed confidence to be what you truly wanted to be: a singer. out in front of crowds in bustling cities all over the country, that's where you wanted to be. you wanted to use your own voice to please the public and provide entertainment in the grand theaters. but you resorted to the life of an outlaw, making reckless decisions, and now you knew that you couldn't ever be something as wonderful as a singer. it brought you down more than anything.

however, with your good friend javier, you lightened up significantly. he knew what your struggles were. he had to go through these same feelings at least once, maybe twice. he sang too, and quite frequently. not often in english, no, but he taught you a few a thing or two, some mexican spanish songs mostly, and you'd harmonize. compliments of your voices flooded in from the listeners nearby once you finished your duet.

"ah. you learn well and fast, mi amiga." javier praised gently after the crowd dispersed, nudging his shoulder gently against yours. you smiled sheepishly at him, your cheeks blooming in a light pink hue. "oh, you flatter me, javier." you sighed out. his deep brown eyes softened at your flushed face, and he couldn't help the smile that etched onto his lips as well. how he wanted to tell you that he was eager for any attempt to make your heart race, but he was just unaware if you felt the same or not. he didn't want to get used to directing flirtatious spews of words at you, just to be turned down. it wouldn't be worth it. however, javier could never just.. ignore his feelings for you. you were a kind soul, soft and delicate with one of the prettiest voices he'd ever heard. you had talent in music, identifying chords and defining them well enough. it wasn't so easy to find a bandit possessing real musical talent like you. you also took good care of him. you had patience, listening to him when he needed to discuss anything that bothered his calmly flowing day, and you always provided advice whether or not the issue was big. he liked you a lot. but his worry of rejection was pushing his confidence down. you were perfect to him, and he didn't want this failed opportunity to seep down the drain. what he didn't know was that you felt very similar.

your eyes trained down to javier's scarred fingertips as they delicately and idly plucked at the guitar strings. you loved his passion for his instrument and the music played with it, you loved the soft tones of his voice as he drew a handful of folk in the gang with each lyric. it wasn't just his musical skill you loved, but you loved his care for the gang and his personality, loyal, friendly. only sometimes was he a bit arrogant... you could deal with it when he was, and it wasn't like you disagreed with his vain behavior. his eagerness to save john when he was up in the mountains after a grizzly wolf attack, how quick he went when bill got caught by bounty hunters. he wanted only the best for his close ones. javier was just perfect in your eyes. a wonderful friend, someone you wanted to keep. you wondered what it'd be like to keep him forever as your love. the man noticed your lingering gaze, and he hummed gently to catch your attention. you looked right up at him. those pretty eyes, swimming with a wholesome light. "what is it?" you asked. "nothing, nothing, no worries. you just looked like you were zoning out," javier answered, looking at the strings of his guitar again before back at you. "i know you have a tendency to do that..." he pointed out in a humorous tone, and you laughed. the way you smiled, and the sound of your laughter... damn it. he had to bite back a groan and look away to cover up the furious scarlet that rose to his cheeks. his heart pounded hard in his chest, and he thought you heard it due to how it thrummed. he wouldn't get over this love for you. now that he thought a bit more about his feelings, he learned had to confess at one point or another. he had to do it, even if he was shy. it would be whatever if you didn't like him back, you'd still be friends. "listen," javier started. "you're special to me. very special to me. it's.. weird, it is, but, you.. you are mi corazón. i love you dearly. this might be stupid to you, you might not love me back, but.. i just wanted to tell you." your lips remained parted in surprise as the, first sappy, then insecure words left his mouth. you began to grip and fist your skirt, looking at your knees shyly. you hadn't the words to reply, you were oh, so stunned. "i'd understand if you don't love me back." he blurted. you both remained quiet momentarily, but his confidence was contagious, and it bloomed in your belly as you leaned a little closer. at first you moved hesitantly, but your leaning turned to a needy lunge as you cupped his flushed cheeks in your soft palms. what happened next was a blur to the both of you—your lips meeting in a swift kiss. you flinched lightly when you felt his hand rest on your back, and you retracted. your eyes were wide and so were his, but eventually, his grew soft once more. he grinned, "so you do love me back."

ohh stupid love stories thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed <3

[thislovintime]

Head premiered on November 6, 1968. (Edit featuring the two Tork songs - in the studio and demo versions, respectively - and a line from the movie.)

“What’s happening as time goes on is that the movie [Head] is becoming a chronicle of an age. At the time, it was just a chronicle of the Monkees.” - Peter Tork, The Monkees Tale (1985) Q: “What do you think of the music from the film ‘Head’?” Peter Tork: "Well, since I wrote and produced two of the songs myself, I think it’s fine. I did ‘Can You Dig It?’ And ‘[Long Title:] Do I Have To Do This All Over Again.’” - Goldmine, 1982 “The funny thing is that the lyrics [to ‘Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?’] came to me right out of the air. I was just playing those chord changes on the guitar, and I opened my mouth and that’s what popped out. The song was weirdly prophetic. I had no idea that was going to be my attitude about anything having to do with music when I wrote that song." - Peter Tork, Listen To The Band liner notes (more about "Long Title..." here) “‘Can You Dig It’ is about the Tao. The hook line I wrote in my dressing room on the set [of the television series in 1967]. The chords for the chorus I’d written in college, and [they] had just stuck with me.” - Peter Tork, Head box set liner notes (more about "Can You Dig It?" here) "I think they're ['Can You Dig It?' and 'Long Title...'] the best songs in the movie [Head]. I love both of them. I thought they were just terrific. He had plugged himself into that whole Stephen Stills connection and was working with those guys. I think they fit the movie better than anything did. When those two songs start up in the movie, it comes alive for me.” - Michael Nesmith, Head box set liner notes “Thorkelson expressed a preference for the Monkees’ ‘Headquarters’ album, because it was the group’s first self-performed album […]. The soundtrack to the [...] movie ‘Head’ also is among Thorkelson’s favorites. ‘It was a little tinny, but back then I guess we were a little tinny,’ he said. ‘That movie will always look good,’ commented Thorkelson.” - The Bowling Green News Revue, May 24, 1979 "'When we made Headquarters, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven,' says Tork. 'My whole goal had been to be a member of a band that worked. The next thing I know we're making a movie and it doesn't have anything to do with the business of being in a band together.' [...] 'There's some weight behind the idea that Bob and Bert wanted to wreck the Monkees, to stop it cold in its tracks,' says Tork. 'I've never known for sure. Bert and Bob might have thought out loud: "Let's kill the Monkees!" Or they may have not thought so out loud but at some unconscious level, they were sick of the Monkees and wanted to do something else.' [...] 'It was a joy seeing a movie being made, but I didn't like working for Bob Rafelson,' Tork says. 'I did what he told me, but I can't say that I ever had any heart connection with him.' His favorite scene, in which he recounts what he has learned from an Indian mystic, was actually directed by Nicholson. [...] Tork has seen Head around 80 times but it took him years to work out why it bothered him so much. In the movie, the Monkees are hoodwinked, bamboozled, chased, assaulted, mocked, trapped in a black box and reduced to dandruff in the hair of actor Victor Mature, before ending up back where they started. In the words of the sardonic Nicholson-penned theme tune, 'So make your choice and we'll rejoice/ In never being free.' 'Most people are dazzled by the psychedelia, and that's fine, but for me finally the point of the movie is the Monkees never get out,' Tork says sadly. 'Which is to say Bob Rafelson's view of life is you never get out of the black box you're in. There's no escape.' So how would a Peter Tork cut of Head end? 'There might have been a scene where we get out,' he says wistfully. 'We jump in the water and get away.'" - The Guardian, April 28, 2011

[extremelyblackandwhite]

... but i’m not done yet falling for your fools’ gold. 

pairing: rockstar!bucky x rockstar!reader

He looked up from his guitar and to the girl sat on top of the drum kit case. Bucky often found himself distracted by her ever since the day she was brought aboard the band. She just had this air about her, the feeling and energy of someone who refused to be ordinary, who refused to settle down for the comfort and instead followed after whatever it was her heart desired at the moment. He was hopefully infatuated with her, writing every and any song he wrote about her. She just had that factor, that almost mythological ease of being his muse. He’d never admit this to her out loud, he’d never even admitted himself just how in love he was with her as well, instead choosing to just call it infatuation. However, the truth was that he was finding himself once again distracted by this woman who was doing nothing that would gather any attention. She was just being herself, legs swinging as she spoke to the bass player with unkept hair and Bucky was as hooked on her as any bad habits on an addict. 

Suddenly, she stood up, her wood platform shoes becoming the only thing he can see as he pretends to be back to the crumbled piece of paper on his legs with crossed out lyrics and chords in various shades of blue and black. She took a seat next to him, her eyes skimming over the what he’d written before a playful smile drew itself on her cherry bitten lips which made his weak heart wonder if she’d been kissed by someone other than him. 

     - Writing love songs, loverboy? - her voice, teasing yet sincere was always the thing that he loved most about any song. It wasn’t traditionally feminine, instead she almost spoke like an old time femme fatale, low and raspy tones; yet, he never found anything more beautiful than the sound of her voice breaking through silence. 

    - Can’t be all about sadness and doing cocaine. - he tried to keep the conversation short. - Some people enjoy love. 

    - Are you not gonna include me in that “some people”? - she looked at him with those eyes that made everyone fall in love with her. - I enjoy love songs, you just don’t seem to be the guy who likes to write them. 

    - Why is that?

Bucky knew why it was that. It was not a surprise that he was a man who was, in certain terms “free loving”, or at least had been until he met her. He didn’t apologise for how he had been, he liked sex, he always enjoyed it and he was not gonna start apologising for having it. He just didn’t settle down and was the only one in the band not to be in a relationship. It wasn’t that he was against commitment, he didn’t particularly need a long term exclusive romantic relationship to make himself happy - that is with some that wasn’t her. She was the only exception, she was the only woman he’d actually picture himself in a committed relationship with. Truth was, Bucky did not want to wake up everyday to the same person in his bed if it wasn’t Y/N. He knew how this painted him, free-loving, heartbreaking - mean, even. He didn’t care how he was perceived, if he was being honest. He didn’t care at all - he’d stopped caring a long time ago. 

    - Don’t make me say it. - she smirked at him, her eyes skimming through the lyrics once more. - You know I’m a bad liar. 

    - You can attempt your own love songs, blossom. - he watched her face like he usually did whenever the two of them ended up together in bed. He’d learned and memorised every detail, every expression. - Are you alright? 

     - Remember Clara? - she looked up at him. 

He didn’t remember her that well. He knew Clara had been in a band with Y/N before Y/N had left to join their band, he remembered a short, red-headed girl but they’d exchanged only greetings. 

     - She’s getting married. - she folded her legs, knee against her chest. - Got the invite last week. Our old bass player.

     - What? Need a date to the wedding? - he teased. 

     - No. It just made me think ... you know, a few years ago I thought that’d what I’d be doing by 26. Getting married and getting the house in the burbs. It’s just funny to watch someone I knew do it. I’m sure I saw her attempt doing coke upside down. 

He sighed, looking at her, taking her in like he’d never done before. Sure, he knew what he felt about her but as he opened his mouth, he felt he was signing and sealing his fate - a fate which he was uncertain she would accept. 

    - I’ll wait for your, blossom. 

    - Buck ... - she sighed. - I told you, we can’t. The band ...

    - I know. - he interrupted her, his blue eyes looking into hers which had inspired millions and thousands of chord pairings in his mind. - And I will wait for you, blossom. 

[extraordinaryhistories]

#14 – 'Happy Birthday' (A Sun Came, 1998)

Oh! the things that you learn when you start seeking them out. In doing some research in preparation for the entry for ‘Happy Birthday’, at certain times and in certain states of mind my favourite A Sun Came song, I discovered that a sizeable corner of the fanbase thinks ‘Happy Birthday’ is about Jesus. They take Sufjan singing ‘you’re God’s great paramour and sweet’ quite literally, and point to lines like ‘your birthday brings a pardoning’ – a reference to Christ-as-redeemer, his birthday an enduring sign of his sacrifice for our sins – and ‘keep your proverbs short and sweet’ – a reference to, um, Jesus’ proverbs – as evidence. It is a compelling case, and it would be keeping with the grand tradition of Sufjan love songs to God, ones where God is not an inaccessible other but someone very corporeal, and very close to Sufjan. (It would also make ‘Happy Birthday’ a Christmas song.)

It's a fascinating way to think about the song, but honestly, I prefer to read it in a different way. I would prefer there to be no religious connotations to ‘Happy Birthday’. I would prefer if ‘Happy Birthday’ were a song about a person – no baggage, an earthly, real, thoroughly mundane person – who Sufjan wants the world for. I think that would be quite beautiful. Because that would make ‘Happy Birthday’ an incredibly sincere expression of platonic love in an album full of them (c.f. the dedication on ‘Wordsworth’s Ridge (for Fran Fike)’.) No baggage, no imbalance of power, nobody owing, nothing owed. Just Sufjan and his affection for somebody in his life. Would that not be the greatest gift of all?

Part of the effervescent magic of ‘Happy Birthday’ lies in how the instrumental is, well, so effervescent, so magical. The spirit of the song, its countless well-wishes, is captured perfectly in the main motif. Sufjan songs are often very simple in construction – it is what sets him apart from the Elliott Smiths of the folk world – but they are rarely this simple. There are no chord progressions, no key changes, no intricate modal shifts; the song is anchored around a single insistent guitar line, consisting of arpeggio triplets that suggest a G ♭ chord. The song never shifts from that guitar line at any point. It spins on and on and on around that tonal centre, that one chord, perpetually at ease with itself. A sign of musical immaturity, perhaps, but the effect it creates is sublime.

The sense of melody in the instrumentation is created by the first note of each arpeggio, which ascends and descends with every passing beat. It moves up in small steps and then down in small steps, creating this sort of contented, quasi-hymnal melody, the sound of sunny mornings and good tidings. And to be clear, this melody is the song. Sufjan’s vocal line in the verses follows that melody note-for-note, with a slight variation in the chorus – ‘I’m happy, I’m happy...’ – that adds more sunshine still. Again, this is something you would scarcely see him do on later releases. Here it is deployed proudly, and to the song’s eternal benefit, because that melody burrows its way into your head, and it will never leave for as long as this man’s music is in your life. It took me a while to embrace it. Once I did, I found ‘Happy Birthday’ to be exceedingly beautiful.

In this song, Sufjan is wishing somebody a happy birthday. But it goes deeper than that, because the subject of ‘Happy Birthday’ seems to be specific, and somebody that Sufjan knows very well. We know this because despite the clear affection he demonstrates, he will poke fun at the subject, point out their flaws. It is good-natured joshing, but joshing nonetheless. Sufjan invokes the delightful image of a ‘periwig on parakeet’ in describing the subject, which is one of my favourite little lyrical moments on A Sun Came because of its naïve playfulness (a ‘periwig’ being an archaic term for the wig worn by a barrister in traditional legal dress.) There is absolutely no ill will in an image like that; it is the sort of thing that one could imagine an Edwardian mother calling her child, with all its old-fashioned farce. The subject is clearly prone to rumination, and they can be a little silly in doing so. ‘You’re like a bird that will not be’: so much purity in you, so much natural kindness and song, so why squander it all by acting like anything but?

And yet there is empathy here in equal measure. The second chorus brings a change in lyrical motif – the first and the third centre themselves around ‘I’m happy’, the simplest of declarations, but the second centres itself around ‘I’m sorry’, and here Sufjan does acknowledge the hardships that his friend has undergone (and will undergo.) Life can be harsh; life can be anxious; life can be mean. This is what makes ‘Happy Birthday’ so incredibly sweet: Sufjan will poke fun at his friend, because he’s their friend, but he will commiserate with his friend too, because he’s their friend, and any playfulness is only playfulness at the end of the day. This platonic ideal of friendship is explored in a few other (later) songs – ‘Vito’s Ordination Song’ and ‘The Greatest Gift’ come to mind – but rarely with this sort of directness, rarely with this sort of charm.

In this song, Sufjan is wishing somebody a happy birthday. It goes deeper than that, granted, but the stark simplicity cannot be denied. ‘Your birthday brings a pardoning’, he repeats, transparently employing a Christian metaphor to communicate to his friend that his birthday is a reset, a new dawn. As Sufjan might put it, last year’s shit is last year’s shit; there need not be anything vital about it. Sufjan’s direct advice is fittingly simple and fittingly adorable: ‘keep your bed warm, keep your humor, keep your proverbs short and sweet’, the former two reminding his friend to focus on immediate self-care needs, the latter one a return to the playful, featherlight jabs that he shares in the first verse. Sufjan’s friend is the only one who can act on any of this – it is their choice – but Sufjan does everything that he can in this song to give them the necessary drive. It is time to turn a new leaf. God has given you divine providence; go – go and find all that you deserve. 

And I suppose that he is also speaking directly to the listener, if you choose to so interpret it. Birthdays can be emotionally taxing; aging is a bitter pill to swallow, and swallow it we must, though it never gets much easier, does it? ‘Happy Birthday’ thus becomes a rallying cry for the listener in the truest sense of the word. Find in it the drive to go out there and achieve everything your heart could ever desire. Sufjan wants it for you.

‘Happy Birthday’ holds the fascinating distinction of being the only song on A Sun Came that Sufjan has performed live since the year 2004, and in a surprising spread of shows, too – two performances in 2005, one in 2009, one in 2016 on the Carrie & Lowell  tour(!), and one in 2017 for the Tibet House Benefit Concert series(!!). Something about this song’s music and lyrics clearly remains enduring for Sufjan, and it is easy to surmise why. The melody sounds just as natural in 2016 Sufjan’s hushed tones as it does in 1998 Sufjan’s more nasally voice, struggle as he might to reach some of the high notes. And the message, well, the message endures. This is one song where I really am quite glad that Sufjan released it when he did, because I think later Sufjan may have baulked slightly at some of the naïveté in the lyrics. Thankfully, it is irrevocably out there, a gift for all. And if Sufjan ever tours again, catch him on the right night, and you might just see him celebrating another trip ‘round the sun.

There is one final detail about ‘Happy Birthday’ that I always like to point out. In the opening instrumental introduction, before the verse proper hits, you can hear Sufjan very quietly vocalising something into the microphone. It’s entirely indistinguishable – he is whispering, or possibly even just breathing heavily – but it’s there, and to my knowledge nobody else has pointed it out. Like a shadow of a shadow of a shadow of Sufjan, impressed onto a cassette forever.

I get chills every time I hear that sound. The sound is so faint that it cannot really be heard in a public place, or in a car, or in any setting with background noise. One where there might be people disturbing the communion. It can only be heard by you, in a room, no distractions. Just Sufjan and the listener. To fully experience this song, to hear all of its secrets, you have to be alone. Because ‘Happy Birthday’ is for you. You, and nobody else.

[dollarbin]

Sandy Saturdays #5:

Fairport Convention's White Dress

Sandy Denny hated her return to Fairport Convention.

By 1974 the band had cycled through about 25 increasingly Tolkienish members in 7 years (seriously, I can think of 2 drummers, one of whom was about to be replaced, 2 bass players, 3 guitarists, a fiddler/mandolin savant and about 17 lead singers; and the only two women in that mix were the only ones without giant, hairy feet).

What's more, no one in the band understood Denny's songs, most especially her own husband; I mean just look at them; do they look like who you want backing up one of the best musicians in history?

The husband in question, Trevor Lucas, far left, was about 7 foot 6 (unlike his band mates, he obviously was not a hobbit; rather he's like a ranger that Aragorn would ditch at first chance) and knew a few guitar chords; he figured that qualified him to be Denny's producer.

What's more, Fairport in 74 wanted to rock while Sandy wanted to sway; the other band members knew Lucas couldn't produce pancakes for the breakfast table let alone a real band, so they turned away from their long term sympathetic engineer and producer, John Wood, and hired this guy instead:

That would be Glyn Johns, who had guided both the Beatles and the Stones to just about nowhere worthwhile, and who went on to dedicate his lousy career mostly to Eric Clapton (yuck; someone get Eric's slowhand offa my throat) and, you guessed it, Stephen Stills. Both men suck. Just look at Johns and Stills hanging out with two lesser losers:

David Crosby, second from left, is accusing Glyn, far right, of having a fake name (seriously: Glyn?) and of eating Crosby's pastrami sandwich to boot. Glyn, in turn, is pointing out that the sandwich is clearly already in Crosby's belly. Graham Nash, standing between them, is employing some of the Nonviolent Communication Techniques he has been trying to use, unsuccessfully, on his pet ferrets. And Stephen Stills? Standing at far left, he's clearly the true pastrami thief, plus he's stolen Graham's ferrets, and is opening his mouth to dissemble about it all while (covertly) passing gas.

To make matters worse for poor Sandy, when on stage Fairport Convention still rolled out the traditional rockified British folk songs that had made them all initially famous. "Forget the perfect songs you wrote on your first four records Sandy," they told her. "We need you to sing Child Ballad Number 69: The Undertaker's Loathsome Barrow, then stand aside while we lay out assorted French dances that will insure we never have a successful record; please, learn the lyrics lass."

Here's what Sandy had to say about it all afterwards:

"If I have to sing Matty Groves one more time I'll throw myself out the window."

Her quote would be funny if she'd had the life, and the band, she deserved, and had not fallen down a set of stairs to her death just a few years later.

But there is one moment in her second tenure with the band which documents the greatness of what could have been. Dave Swarbrick was capable of writing a song worthy of her voice and he did so just once in 74 with the simple and aching, White Dress.

Check it out.

This video is a bit of the Holy Grail for Denny freaks like me: only the first minute of footage has ever emerged. Where is the rest? Happily some guy who surely lives in his mother's basement and is wondering right now when she will tell him breakfast is ready took the time to paste on still photos over the rest of the live take so we can hear everything and see how it started.

That's drummer number three in the opening shot, and Swarbrick stands behind Denny with the mandolin, grinning away at his good luck to have her singing his song. Sandy sets aside all her angst in this performance; she fills every available space with her grace and heartache.

Did Neil Young know about Denny's performance of this song before he wrote its natural sequel, Wrecking Ball, wherein his ladyfriend dons something pretty and white before they go dancing tonight? If not, Emmylou Harris certainly knew all about Sandy and the song before she sang Shakey's version. Just listen to the similar aching sway.

I love Harris's performance here, but I get chills seeing and listening to Denny fronting the band in 74. I get a little weepy to. Denny died four years later, 46 years ago this Spring. She should be 76 years old today, singing to her grandchildren.

At least she's still singing to us.

[irradon]

i think i'm finally getting over it, guys!

the story of me making a "sad" spotify playlist is so streamlined, you could almost boil it down to a recipe. be it due to another boy betraying my expectations or the suburban quiet turning to a deafening roar, it all starts with me legitimizing the nagging feeling that tugs at me like a child. it pulls on my shirt, asking for my attention when all i want is to ignore it, pretend that i am beyond messy tantrums and even messier rooms.

i ran away from the disappointment of this last fling for so long that i accepted that the heartbreak would linger its way into a home. i made room for it in my heart like one does for a stranger in a bus. the sadness, the feeling of unworthiness that followed in his absence, which came as quickly as his presence, it became my companion as i attempted to lead my life as if it was unchanged. it was only one date, amrita. you should be over it by now. he ended it with you already.

i am famously incapable of moving on from people who express any care or interest in me out of their own volition. more than anything, i am stubborn to a fault, and was so shaken by the whirlwind of march 2023 that i didn't even know how to begin to move on. from that one night he took every expectation i had for romance and shattered them. i had never tasted anything like it, and just like that, it was taken away from me. i couldn't understand the sheer insanity of what had happened. all i knew was that i didn't want to be over. and so despite the wishes of everyone around me who wanted me to move on, i let myself hold onto a shred of hope that it wasn't over.

it was that same persistence that numbed me through a month long escapade in greece, where i fooled around with not one, but two different people in my study abroad program. i let their interest in me dictate how these would go, not stopping to think or care about the consequences or how i was being objectified as a result. they weren't him, after all, so why would i care? they simply provided some much (so i thought) needed validation, and my ego craved nothing more.

when i came home, i found myself more miserable than ever as my attempts to get over him failed. as if things had never ended, i found myself learning more about him, finally having an interest in king krule's space heavy and listening to his song "cellular" (from a different album) on repeat. when i could handle it, i would replay the conversations we had in my mind, trying to figure out what went wrong along the way but wishing, more than anything, that the intimacy we had would return again. i let his music create a sort of makeshift intimacy for me, the sounds through my headphones becoming a portal to my dreamland where my heart wasn't broken and we were friends with no awkwardness. music tears down the ego like nothing else. chords, rhythm, melodies, and lyrics can bare your heart open for anyone to see, if you let it.

and so the nagging child of my own hurt continued to be ignored. my feelings swam around me like koi fish in a vast ocean, muddied by selfish motifs of betrayal and "deserving better" and the godforsaken phrase "if he wanted to, he would" plaguing my social media algorithm. where i was once considered "emotionally aware," charting my own feelings for him with any honesty with myself was like sailing this ocean blindfolded. i would meditate and pretend not to hear my own sadness. instead i'd pick up on "still in love" and assume that was the end of it.

the date itself was a very divine and ethereal moment in time. my body seemed to buzz from how right everything felt at that time. it was so surreal i felt drunk. because of how desperately i wanted these feelings to last, i fixated on them and neglected the anxiety which followed immediately after. i couldn't believe it even happened. my skin felt like it was on edge. my body knew it was over before my mind could even understand it. but these were feelings i knew too often and too well. i wanted him to be different, because he was so different. when i think about the divinity i saw in him, how loving him felt like a religion, how blissful it is to be in love with someone, the allure of unconditional devotion, it felt like a healing balm. i didn't want to walk away, and so i rooted down and stayed to no answer.

it was like that for eight months. the moments of divinity found their ways back to me in ways i never expected. another hours long conversation that ended at 2 in the morning, tying my keffiyeh before a protest, making eye contact that once again felt like years condensed into a second. when i got into that car accident, he only waited for me to say yes before driving over, staying with me for an hour, and driving me home. in these ways, when i think about it, there is still love. it's just confused.

but too much in my life is uncertain and in flux. my routines after the accident have disrupted the facets of my life that kept me grounded. so much has changed in a few months, and i graduate after this next semester. new house, no car, no job. new friends, new pain, your doctor said no exercise for at least a month. no relationships in sight. the ocean of feelings swimming around me has only grown deeper. the nagging feeling of heartbreak is still tugging at my shirt, silently begging for me to pay attention to her.

the nagging feeling finally had a chance to grow louder once my finals ended, and i couldn't numb myself by partying, organizing, working, or studying. i was home, left to my own devices for days on end. and so i numbed myself with my last resort of doomscrolling, and that's where the nagging turned into a scream.

i'd heard the harmonies of "can't catch me now" by olivia rodrigo and they captivated me almost instantly. but instagram reel audios don't always tell you the song name. all i knew was that those were undoubtedly her vocals, and that she'd released an album pretty recently. i searched through her discography, incessantly looking for the song i only knew the melody for, and was left disappointed. still, it tugged at me. it was too pretty - i had to find it, i knew that. but maybe i had gotten the artist wrong, and without knowing the lyrics i was lost on a google search. and so i once again let go of the nagging child's hand.

it only took until the next day for me to find another reel with a sped up version of that song. and, like a beacon of light, someone in the comment section will always ask, "song?" and an angel will bless them with an answer. it was the one song i'd chosen to ignore in olivia's discography, naturally. when i finally pressed play, let the verse bleed into the chorus, a gentle lilt of harmonies and the lyrics "but i'm in the trees, i'm in the breeze / my footsteps on the ground" with nothing but soft strings and finger pickings on an acoustic guitar for an instrumental, i was captivated. i dissolved into the music almost instantly, and the muddied ocean in my body began to clear. i could hear it so vividly, "i'm here, i'm there, i'm everywhere / but you can't catch me now" and felt those words graze my skin with the sunlight streaming through my window. i was ready to let go. my body and mind, my emotions, they were tired. i had neglected myself, that nagging child, for so long.

i've listened to that song on repeat for close to two days now. i parked myself on my couch and let my soul find answers. what about this song spoke to me so loudly? what feelings did it elicit? were there other songs like it? and from those answers, a new playlist was born. olivia's femininity, the sheer power that radiated from soft lyrics and quiet harmonies in the chorus. this was what it has always felt like to walk away. it is to realize that whatever divinity you felt was yours always. the experience came from you and was felt within you. the other person was simply a trigger. i could finally feel a sense of control over myself again. i could embrace something to be "mine," and mine alone. other songs quickly followed suit: by woom, by adrianne lenker, billie marten, laufey. it needed to be explicitly feminine. it needed to be rooted in nature, and soft. and it needed to be beautiful.

the title of this playlist is "555." the caption is "change. everything is shifting." and i'd had it empty for a few months. i knew that when i was ready, the right songs would find their own way into that playlist. it's like any other creative act, or any act in general. when we are ready, we will receive. it took me this time to be ready to move on, to really try everything and feel fleeting moments of connection before fully letting go. do i have answers to most of my uncertainty? no. but the fog finally feels like it's lifting. the ocean is clearing. i finally feel like i'm getting over it.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

[ karaoke ]  for our muses to sing together

(Sending one to each sibling, feel free to do just one or any <3 )

Andro had found her a guitar.

Granted, it wasn't in the best state it could have been, but it was a guitar, and that meant that Cass would play it nonstop, even if her fingers hurt and her voice was strained from the effort, every single day, until she managed to empty herself of everything she was feeling, which was... a lot.

She didn't have any way of checking any music sheets, so whatever songs she felt like learning, she had to do so from memory. Luckily, her parents, Fernando and María, had paid for extensive music lessons for the three siblings (and for Orión, but he never paid any attention, and since he was a horrible student either way...) and she knew the instrument better than, in some ways, she knew herself.

'Fuck...' Tongue peeking from parted lips in both concentration and frustration, her body bending down to make a note of the chords as she progressed with the song, white fingers stained with ink as was usually the case, messy curls all over her face. 'No, this doesn't sound right.'

Repetition. Make a mistake. Try again. Absolute failure. Get it finally right. Maybe, if her music taste wasn't as eclectic as she was, it would have been easier. She'd never know. Also, her voice was a little bit too high to hit all the notes and to get the melody to sound exactly the way she wanted. She needed some help, but who could she ask? Niragi? No, he would never agree. Chishiya? Maybe, but he was always busy... Hinata's name appeared in her mind and while, she didn't want to bother him with something as stupid and as trivial as this, she just. Needed to get it off her chest.

She was in his room no less than ten minutes later, holding the instrument like she would a weapon, with something resembling reverence and as if she was scared it could go off at any minute. When Hinata opened the door, she quickly explained the situation: she needed to sing and she required someone with a lower voice. She didn't want to sing, there was a huge difference, she needed it as much as she did oxygen and food and water, to keep living. It was a supernatural thing, this weird need to create. But her close friend was an artist as well, and she was sure that he would understand.

She gave him a piece of paper with the lyrics on it, in the best handwriting she could produce, while she took a seat in the bed and started playing the intro to the song. After practicing for about half an hour, they finally got it right.

Illustrate all my pain and set it all ablaze

Burn, and set it all ablaze

So how do I apologize and put the tears back in your eyes, when every canvas that I paint is a masterpiece of my mistakes?

And in the light of my demise, I see my failures in your eyes

Every canvas that I paint is a masterpiece made of my mistakes

Their voices worked together in the same way their personalities did. In a way that was sweet, soft, almost magical; it felt like the caress of a long lost lover you had never got over. Like a warm hug when you needed it the most. Like a friend you could spend months without speaking to, but when you resumed contact, nothing had changed. There was also a... certain chaos to it, but there was beauty in it.

How could there not be? Cass asked herself, while looking at Hinata and the light that seemed to irradiate from him, after the last notes echoed in the room. He really was someone whose smile could lit up the darkness. Such a simple gesture from him could guide any astray soul back to their path. Everything good in this world could be found inside of him. Words, simply, fell short.

[sujantim]

Supporting a Friend's Musical Journey: An Interview with Aakash

Aakash is more than just a talented musician—he’s a close friend I’ve had the privilege of supporting throughout his journey. From songwriting sessions to late nights filming music videos, I’ve witnessed firsthand the dedication he pours into his craft. This interview explores not only his experiences but also the challenges, triumphs, and moments of growth that shaped him into the artist he is today.

Sujan: Let's take it back a little—when did you know you wanted to become a musician and singer?

Aakash: Honestly, I never thought I’d actually be able to do it. I loved watching people perform, especially playing instruments and creating all these different sounds. The guitar was the first thing that really caught my attention. I’d walk five miles every week just to see street performers. My parents noticed I’d always go to the lakeside area to watch them and thought I might stop studying if I got too into music. So, when I first asked them for a guitar, they said no.

Sujan: So, what was your first experience with a guitar? How did you finally get one?

Aakash: In sixth grade, we had music class every Friday, and I’d finally get a chance to play the guitar. There was only one guitar in the class, so we took turns. After seeing my enthusiasm, my instructor talked to my parents, and they surprised me with a guitar for my 12th birthday. That was the best birthday of my life.

Influences and Breaking Stereotypes

Sujan: Did you have a musical background in your family, or did anyone influence your interest in music?

Aakash: Not really. My family didn’t have a musical background. In my community, most parents don’t see a sustainable life in music. They’d listen to traditional music but weren’t too supportive of modern instruments, especially because musicians often got a bad image—long hair, tight pants, smoking. But for me, music was all about peace of mind. I loved how music could make people stop and listen. Watching street performers being appreciated made me want to be that person.

Dedication and Consistency

Sujan: I know you play guitar, piano, and sarangi. What kept you motivated to keep learning and practicing?

Aakash: I think when you really want something, you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you really need it. When my parents didn’t get me a guitar at first, it made me want it even more. Once I finally had it, I didn’t take it for granted. That dedication helped me stick with the guitar, and then I applied the same discipline to learning other instruments. Of course, sometimes I’d need a break, but I’d always come back to it. Consistency is key.

From Street Jam Sessions to the Stage

Sujan: How did you go from jamming with friends to performing on a real stage?

Aakash: I made a couple of friends in music class, and eventually, we performed at an annual school program. I treated the audience as if I was just jamming with friends, and that helped me stay calm. I’ve always seen the audience as individuals, not a big, intimidating crowd.

Exploring Original Compositions

Sujan: Have you ever felt the need to compose your own music instead of covering popular songs?

Aakash: Yeah, we mostly played covers at first, especially when we started performing in the streets. Eventually, I realized that people often didn’t focus on us as performers—they were thinking about the original artists. And on top of that, dealing with drunk people in the crowd was tough! So, I started writing my own music, using lyrics I’d been jotting down in my diary.

The Challenges of Songwriting and Production

Sujan: What was it like transitioning from performing covers to writing and producing your own music?

Aakash: At first, I had no clue about composing music. I focused mostly on guitar chords, strumming, and lyrics. My first song was a bit of a struggle because I didn’t have complete lyrics. Eventually, I reached out to a producer in Kathmandu. Working with him was eye-opening—he had so much experience and could easily fix the broken parts of my songs.

Delivering Music to the Audience

Sujan: What was it like to release your first song?

Aakash: I was so nervous, hoping it sounded good outside the studio. Thankfully, people loved it. The best part was feeling appreciated for my work, which made all the struggles worth it.

The Journey of Self-Improvement

Sujan: After your first release, how did you keep improving yourself?

Aakash: I was lucky with my first project since my producer was so skilled, but I didn’t have much control over it. There were things I wanted to change, but I didn’t know how back then. After that song, I took a break to reflect on what I could improve and what I’d do differently next time. I wanted my second project to feel more like my own.

Working with Aakash has shown me how much effort and passion go into each piece of music. From those initial songwriting sessions to watching his songs resonate with audiences, it’s been an inspiring journey. Aakash’s story proves that with resilience, discipline, and genuine love for one’s art, anyone can turn their dreams into reality. I’m proud to see him grow and can’t wait to see what he accomplishes next.

[moremusic]

This weeks guest is a force on the Brisbane Music scene. Their music has influences of the great music of era’s past. The Beatles, Zeppelin etc. here is guitarist Jack to tell us about all things Ten12

Tell us a little bit about Ten12? Members, how did you get together etc?

-We’re a 4 piece alternative rock band that started in 2018 out of Aspley state highschool in north brisbane. Our school talent show was approaching at the time and our school music teacher suggested to a few members to put a band together. We got along almost instantly and found that we all shared a love for a similar music which for me personally meant a lot. Much to our neighbours delight, we managed to organise a few rehearsals at Luke (drums) house, and eventually played at the talent show. We’ve never looked back since.

What are your short and long terms goals?

-We’ve always had goals. In the beginning we wrote down a list of goals and although for a group of naive and stary eyed teenagers some things listed may have been “play a stadium tour”, there were still more shorter term realistic goals like “sell out 50 person capacity venue” we still strived to learn and develop ourselves to complete the goals. A current Short term goal is to sell out a venue ideally equal or larger than 120 people capacity, another is to gain radio play on triple J/ unearthed. And a long term goal is to have to opportunity to be on a festival line up. playing to as many people as possible along side the bands we look up to

How was it dealing with the Covid Pandemic? Is everything back to normal?

-being a band during covid was kind of like when a sporting team travels away to focus on training. The world was in lock down and there were no gigs. It gave us the opportunity to write music with no distractions or having to rehearse specifically for gigs. We tried our best to use that time productively and would write and demo as many songs as we felt made the cut. Gigs slowly made their way back in and we were able to snatch up good slot times and days (a Friday or Saturday) without much drama. Although our audience were forced to wear masks and sit still in seats during a rock show, we made the most of it! Fast forward to today and gigs are back to normal crowds and require to be booked 3-4 months in advance!

What is your career highlight so far?

-This one’s hard to pick but I think it would have to be placing number #50 in the 4zzz Hottest one hundred last year (2022) for the single “Burden”. This song’s currently proving to be our most streamed song and we’re proud of it!

Your new song “Whiskey in a Smokey room ” is my favourite of all your music releases. I can’t stop listening to it. What is it about and how did you come up with?

-For this particular song I remember having the title down before the song! We liked the picture that “whiskey in a smoky room” painted by simply saying that line. The song came later. From memory We had the music written for a while before the lyrics or melody. I came up with the riff and the chords to the song and presented it to the band. From there we arranged it together and awaited lyrics. While we waited we jammed it for a while as an instrumental where we found a jam based direction to end the song. Luke (drums) worked with Liam (vocals) and eventually wrote the lyrics to the song to complete what would become our favourite single.

I asked liam to describe what the song means to him. Liam - “Whiskey in a Smoky room pushes the essence of mortality, deity’s and nights out playing music where the day break never comes nor it ever leave. When writing for the song I wanted to take a different direction than I usually would and took a lot of inspiration and had a large focus on where the instrumentation took me instead of what it made me feel”

Have you got any new music coming out? Or are you still recording?

We have new music coming out very soon!

1st of July will see the release of our 2nd EP “the singularity”, which you can now pre-save! The pre-save link is in our bio on our Instagram! As for new recordings, we are always working on new music and aren’t shy to throw down some tracks..

Who are the greatest influences on you? Individually and as a band?

-Individually we have a a range of different influences. Ethan (bass) is a huge beetles fan, Liam (vocals) loves grunge, predominantly pearl jam. Luke (drums) draws influence largely from Led Zeppelin, and I (Jack, guitar) look up to mostly David Gilmore, and Angus Young for guitar techniques.

As a whole we’ve gone through stages of bonding over similar or the bands. This greatly influences our songwriting. These bands include the likes of AC/DC, Oasis, Led Zeppelin, Nirvana, and then on to more local bands like Ball Park Music.

If you could invite 4 musicians to dinner dead or alive) who would you invite?

I feel like with an opportunity like this I’d want the dinner to have some outgoing souls to keep it exciting mixed with some unmatched talent and knowledge for learning purposes. Straight away the people that come to mind would be:

Paul McCartney

Freddy Mercury

Jimmy Page

Bob Dylan

Any gigs coming up you want to promote?

-We actually have a huge show coming up on the 9th of July for our EP release at Black Bear a lodge in fortitude Valley, Brisbane. Joining us on the night will be our friends New Living, and Lazy Guns. We’re really looking forward to this one! It’s gearing up to be some kinda night!

Gibson or Fender? What gear do you play?

-This one’s a bit tricky. This is a good time to give a shout out to my dad (Jack’s Dad, Graham) who took up the art of being a luthier as a pass time. He’s made mostly of my guitars as well as Amps. He likes to keep nothing but a wooden finish on all of his gear.

My favourite and most used guitar is the body and headstock of a Gibson SG, with a fender Strat bridge, and fender scale length for the neck. I’ve never felt anything like it so I use it as much as I can. For amps, he’s made 2, along with several different size cabs. The best way I can describe the first and most used amp is simply referring it to a Vox AC15. However, everything he makes has its own unique sound and is hard to compare to professionally made gear. I’m a big believer in this unique sound is a big part of the TEN12 sound.

If you were given the chance to support one artist in the world, who would you pick?

-There are so many options here! However I feel like if I didn’t choose this band I’d regret it forever. It would have to be Paul McCartney’s Wings. But I’d like to give an honourable mention to Bruce Springsteen and the E street Band.

If you were stuck on a deserted island with only one record, what would it be?

-That's a tough one. I think we’d all have a different answer to this question, but if I had to pick one it would have to be Dark side of the moon by Pink Floyd. I think the variation in the album is enough to keep you going for a bit. And the music is just whacky enough to match the state of your mind which would eventually probably go insane.

Where can people find out more about you?

-you can find us on all platforms! But make sure to check out our official website which I’ll attach below! From there you can sign up to our emailing list and receive monthly updates on what’s to come!

[heyyyharry]

Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')

(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

Read part 1 here

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“What the fuck is this?”

Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.

He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”

“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”

Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.

It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.

“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Listen to the song.”

“Baby.”

“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not.”

“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”

“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.

“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.

Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.

Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.

Car rides down Malibu

Strawberry ice cream

One spoon for two…

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“Are we there yet?”

“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.

Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.

“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.

“Ahh, brain freeze!”

“But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.

Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.

Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.

“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.

“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”

“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.

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.

.

“They went to Miami last week.”

Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.

“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”

“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”

“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?

It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.

“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”

Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.

The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.

“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.

“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.

Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.

“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”

“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.

Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.

She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.

Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.

“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.

“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”

Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.

That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.

“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.

“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”

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.

.

Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.

They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.

Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.

His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.

He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.

At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.

“Hi. How are you?” he said.

Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.

But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”

“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For speaking out about it.”

“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”

They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.

“Look, Y/N, I—”

Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”

Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”

Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.

[alltheselights]

With Harry working the way he is, I think it does affect quality of his songs. I know his co-writers help him but I don’t think the second and third album were as strong or good musically or lyrically as HS1. I liked some songs but not as many, and that’s a personal preference so I’m sure for some people it’s his best but I just didn’t connect lyrically to more of those songs. And I think his voice hasn’t been sounding as good live throughout the whole show, maybe because of the over-working. Also, all those comparisons with other songs, where they sound very similar. That can happen anyway because there are only so many chords but I do think the quick turnaround of Harry’s music considering what else he does doesn’t help that. And people are talking about Harry’s acting now. It was just a single clip so we don’t know and you can’t judge a whole movie of acting on one clip, but people are now again talking about how singers don’t have to train in acting to get roles and how that’s not fair to actors who have worked for years to learn the art of acting and to improve their skills. And with this tour? I don’t think Harry is doing himself any favours. What do you think his aim is? Is it to make just more and more money? Is it because he doesn’t know how to slow down? Is it because he wants to be considered the best?

I actually agree. Part of it is personal preference, but I thought that HS1 was much stronger lyrically than HS2 and HS3. I also think his songs were better when he was staying more comfortably within his range instead of doing falsetto all the time, which he isn’t able to maintain as much live so he has to change the songs for the live performances. I do think that despite some of the things Harry says when he’s promoting his album, it is clear that they’re aiming to write things for radio and for TikTok trends and for hits. And I do think it affects the quality of the music and especially how genuine the lyrics are.

I think Harry’s a workaholic and I don’t think he knows how to slow down. I also think he’s surrounded by yes-men “friends” who make money off him and are never, ever going to actually say no to him, tell him to take a break, or tell him when something’s not up to a high level of quality. He has a fanbase that will buy and eat up anything he does, so they don’t care because they just want more money and more success and more fame.

He hasn’t taken a real break since he went solo and I think that’s a combination of his workaholic tendencies and him having a team (which is also all of his friends, pretty much) that doesn’t care about long-term sustainability because they only care about current profits. This has been his schedule:

2016: Dunkirk filming, writing HS1 2017: Dunkirk promo, HS1 release and promo, tour 2018: Tour, writing HS2 2019: Tour, filming Eternals, HS2 release and promo 2020: Writing HS3, filming DWD 2021: Filming DWD, filming MP, tour 2022: HS3 release and promo, tour

He and everyone who surrounds him wants to capitalize off him as much as they can while he’s still on top, which won’t last forever. And maybe it’ll pay off, but I also think we’re missing out on a level of quality from Harry’s music and likely acting as well that we would get if he took proper breaks and stopped caring so much about being at the top of the charts and being famous.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Thor Odinson - happier

A/N & WC - I am not trying to pretend I am Olivia Rodrigo at all: total credit for all songs and lyrics used here goes to her and her team. No disrespect is meant towards her. I do not own the songs, I also do not own the characters I’m writing these blurbs for. Please read the preface. 1.4k.

Warnings - Thor being a himbo, Thor being obsessed with Jane, break up talk, swearing.

“Ah!” Thor’s voice booms out once I manage to seek him out, still wiping my eyes. “Mortal girl. Why were you being so… noisy?”

“I was trying to find you,” I tell him, deadpanning.

“Ok then, y/n. Why?”

“For God’s sake, will you just follow me?”

He sighs at me rolling my eyes, but follows me. I ignore the hiss of wind and the way the flash of silver passing just inches over the top of my head dislodges my hair.

“I apologise for Mjolnir. He tends to…”

“I know,” I say, turning to meet his one-eyed gaze as we reach the living room, “I’m used to it. Make yourself comfortable.”

He’s still iffy about Midgardian furniture—probably since he’s broken multiple pieces of it during his time here—so balances uncomfortably on the very edge of the sofa with Mjolnir in his hand, the leather and metal of his fighting gear settling heavily against the cushions. I sit at the piano with my back straight, my shoulders squared, and my fingers gently curved over the notes.

“A-are you going to play for me, y/n?”

“That was the plan. I wrote a song I want you to hear.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, though I can’t tell whether it’s in surprise or disapproval, “ok.”

He runs one giant hand through his matted blonde hair, and hones his eyes in on my back. My fingers press the keys for the very first chord, Db7. The 6/8 time signature adds a swing waltz feel, unique to this song, unfamiliar with my usual compositional style.

‘We broke up a month ago

You've moved on, found someone new

One more girl who brings out the better in you’

Thor wasn’t grounded when I was going through the breakup, but returned by the photo leak, and hugged me so tight once he learned what had happened that I almost stopped breathing. He then proceeded to spend around ten hours telling me every small detail and every little passing emotion in a long winded retelling about his relationship with Jane. I won’t lie, it did help a little, and most certainly distracted me.

The part of his tale that inspired this song was about his return to earth during the convergence, when Jane was dating an Irish man who made Thor more jealous than he can recall being before in all thousand years of his life. When he took her to Asgard, he wished for her to only be happy with him. I don’t blame him one little bit.

‘And I thought my heart was attached

For all the sunlight of our past.’

For all of his chaos in recent years, Thor has his head screwed on straight. He can detach himself, be logical through heartbreak, and for all his recklessness, he’s… solid. He taught me how to separate myself from my heart so it wouldn’t hurt, how to watch my emotions from another perspective and weigh them up. We examined each and every one under the same question. Is it worth it? And a lot of the time the answer was no, so Thor sat by me as I let go of the happy memories. It… helped.

But she's so sweet, she's so pretty

Does she mean you forgot about me?’

Thor likes to ramble. He’s very good at it. I feel like I’m subjected to an inane lecture half the time, but the other half, he packs wisdom in his nonsense. Whilst rambling about Jane, he dropped a few quality bombs from their conversations. ‘I never forgot about you, or stopped hoping…’ ‘if you ever doubted my return, we aren’t meant to be…’ And then I realised that for the precise reason that I doubted him, it doesn’t matter if we forget one another, because we clearly weren’t meant to be.

‘Oh, I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier’

Thor’s eyes are closed, and he’s swaying to the beat in his seat, his blond locks floating around him as he soaks my words in. His ego is the size of the nine realms most of the time, so he knows Jane won’t find anyone better, the same way I know my ex won't find anyone as good as me. Thor and I, though I always thought we were polar opposites, are exactly the same. We know how happy we can make people, we know we’re wonderful, we know we can be selfish at times, but that makes us great people to be around. He brought the oomph back into my ego, and for that, I smile at him as I tail off from the chorus, not that he can see me.

‘And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean

But she's beautiful, she looks kind, she probably gives you butterflies.’

Thor told me I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He was drunk, of course, and assured me it was platonic because he was in love with Jane, but it boosted my self esteem anyway, since my ex never said anything like that. I knew I shouldn’t be comparing myself to her, as Thor knows he shouldn’t compare himself to any mortal men that may take Jane’s fancy in the interim. Though misguided and rather conceited, I took his point in my stride. It’s complete bullshit, whatever my ex says, to me, to her, to whoever comes next and whoever has been before. Thor… he helped me increase my sorry Stark ego. Of course no one else in the tower was happy about this, but I was, because I was back to myself once he was done.

‘I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier’

Vengeance seeps into my tone now as I experience the true meaning of the song. Thor, in typical golden retriever style, has his head cocked and his brows furrowed as he tries to visibly make sense of the lyrics. I’m fucking unforgettable, and I’ll be damned if he finds anyone better. I’m happier alone, but he’s so disgusting he wouldn’t manage it. There’s nothing more for me to feel fondly about, and I thank Thor in these lyrics for helping me recognise this.

Light, almost heady vocalisations spill from my lips, feeling them in my nose as I hum and ooh and ahh. I let it all flood over me, emotions pooling around me as I attempt to sift through them for some conformation, but all I get is clarity. I’m happy, so fucking happy now. While I was tied down—without the help of my bloody witless Uncle Thor—I never would’ve figured out that he was the reason I wasn’t happier. Jokes on him. I repeat the chorus with a smirk etched upon my face.

‘I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.’

My final line is sung almost ethereally, lightly, with the slightest riff and inflection on the words as I breathe out on the final word, vibrato lacing my lyrics. I glance at Thor, his cheeks full of food he got from lord knows where so he looks like a hamster, wearing that stupid grin he often does.

He stands up, his posture impressive, and applauds me. The sound booms around the room despite it only being him, and I feel the vibrations of his claps in my legs as I stand, wobbling slightly.

“I liked that!” he exclaims. “Not the style, of course, but the words are lovely.”

I offer him a smile, shuffling over to perch on the arm of the couch, “I wrote the lyrics after your help through my break up.”

“Who knew I was a songwriter? I can add that to my list, hold on one moment…”

“Thor, no—” I start, but cut myself off. I’ll let him have this one.

“Well then, y/n. What is it the others call you? Baked bean? I can see it! Your eyes are all... they’re all splotchy like baked beans,” he laughs.

And now I remember why we aren’t usually friends.

“Well anyway, I liked your little song. Thank you. Should I leave now?”

“Yeah, um, you can just go,” I say half heartedly.

He smiles at me over his shoulder as he disappears, leaving the door wide open behind him. Typical Thor. But then again, sometimes family is difficult, and I suppose that’s what he is to me, why he helped me, why I put up with him even when he says the most pointless things. Hopefully Bucky has a bit more to say.