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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years ago

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Nothing To Him - A Harry Styles One Shot

Harry Styles is a liar.

He lied your whole relationship.

He promised to love you forever and then he walked away.

A lovers to nothing break up fic feat. blisters, heartache & two sides to one story.

Word count: 15k (Sorry! You’re going to want to open this little pal in a browser window probably. Eek)

Story Playlist:

The First Lie: Damn This Love - Thirsty Merc The Second Lie: Do You Remember - Jarryd James The Third Lie: Nebraska - Oh Wonder The Fourth Lie: I Saw You - Jon Bryant The Fifth Lie: Here We Go - Emily Hearn The Sixth Lie: Crying Dancing - Nina Nesbitt , NOTD

MY MASTERLIST.

The first lie was that you were different.

Harry felt different with you.

You just slipped into his routine and his life. You didn't buy into the spectacle of it all. You told him on your first date that you didn't play games, and that it wasn't often you connected with someone on an intellectual or emotional level. Harry sat there and listened to the woman across from him say she didn't expect to finish the date still attracted to him.

And he fucking loved it.

The next morning he called you at quarter past eight, because he figured you either started work at eight-thirty or nine o'clock, so he'd catch you on your commute or just before you walked into the office. You answered your phone like you would a business call. He teased you for it, but really he was just glad you answered at all. It felt like getting test results telling Harry he was in the clear.

The truth was when Harry first met you at the birthday party the night before he'd been angling towards you being a hookup. He saw you across the bar as soon as he arrived, gaze zeroing in on your legs in That Dress, his ears leaning to the sound of your laugh pulling eyes from around the room. Harry wanted you, and he'd been through a bit of a dry spell. You radiated the kind of energy Harry could get drunk on, the sort of body he wanted to lose himself in for a night.

It was almost an hour before he managed to edge into the same circle of bodies as you. You knew the birthday girl the same way he did; through work. Harry caught early on that you didn't still work for his record label, but did a few years before and stayed in touch with everyone. You seemed like the kind of person who collected people, who everyone wanted to keep in touch with. Harry just wanted to touch you.

Two tequilas in he got you to himself.

You were good at flirting, which excited Harry initially. You had a quip for everything or an interesting addition to each story he told. You were well-read and well-travelled, and you weren't hesitant in showing Harry that you had opinions and ideas of your own. Over the years he'd become good at getting people to talk, good at asking questions that make someone share themselves because the alternative—Harry sharing himself—wasn't something he could do. But something about you and the way you framed questions made Harry feel like it was safe to share a little more, you'd disarmed him quietly, and by the time he noticed Harry didn't feel the need to protect himself anymore.

"That's bullshit," you'd told him when he said he wasn't all that into contemporary fiction. You hated the artsy elites who listed off the Hemingway's and the Kerouac's and the Vonnegut's as though the only literature worth mentioning came from lifetimes ago. Your hair swished back and forth at your cheeks as you shook your head emphatically, "You're being lazy. Imagine saying the same about modern music."

Harry's lips ticked up into a smile, and he raised his eyebrow in concession, "That would be bullshit," he agreed, thinking of the album he'd just released and how he wanted to know if you'd listened to any of his stuff. (Very quickly he decided he probably didn't want to know because it stuck Harry the answer would be no.) His eyes couldn't pull away from watching your lips as you spoke, admiring the shade of lipstick you wore.

"Right," you continued, "Modern fiction teaches me about myself, about my life. It gives words to what my friends and I are experiencing. The classics are amazing—don't get me wrong—but I don't see myself in them."

"Seems like your criteria stem from narcissism," Harry was sure he had you there. He grinned at you happily.

"Exactly," you agreed without hesitation, "Maybe 'Hills Like White Elephants' is genius, and as a woman, I should be grateful to Hemmingway for horrifying his audience in 1927 with a normalised view of abortion but … I don't think he wrote that for me. He was challenging ideas then. I feel more connection and loyalty to an Instagram poet who's painting the world that actually matters to me, the world I'm trying to survive now."

Harry hums into his drink and says nothing. He expects you to back away a little, or ask him some question that watered-down your view and opened up the table to his. But you don't. You let your view sit on the slice of the bar between you and don't apologise for it.

"There's a reason artists burst out of every generation," you add, sitting forward on your stool. "If the classics were the perfect form, the perfect commentary of humanity, then there'd be no need for anyone after them to bother trying to put the world and life into words, or pictures, or music. You can't just dismiss a generation of voices because some smelly, old, white, university hasn't decided to name a building after them yet. I don't think being published as a little orange Penguin Classic is the singular hallmark to good literature."

He didn't entirely agree with you, (he thought it was vital to learn from the past, thought those great authors you reeled off and dismissed set the benchmark artists today should aspire to) but Harry liked hearing your thoughts and seeing the passion burst out of you. He liked seeing how you didn't second guess yourself or try to soften your opinion by asking for his. You just said what you thought, and that was always one of his favourite characteristics in a person.

That night you met him, you were the designated driver for a few of your friends. He should have noticed the way you switched to pineapple juice after you finished your first drink, but he was too busy trying not to look at the curve of your thigh when you crossed one leg over the other. Trying to ignore the smell of your perfume or how you kept licking your lips and he wanted to taste them, desperately. Harry didn't like to say anything when he offered to buy you another gin and dry. Still, when it eventually came out in conversation—that you were strictly only having one tonight—he felt his excitement deflate. His warm buzz suddenly felt pervy and presumptuous.

"Well, that's bloody annoying, isn't it?"

His response surprised you, "Me getting my friends home alive?"

With his hand comfortably resting over your knee, Harry shook his head, "I was hoping to go home with you."

"Oh."

You blinked at him, not having expected him to be so bold. You didn't hate it though, you felt the twinge of realising you were going to miss something that could have been good. Could have been great, probably. The last time you had sex had been … sad. And disappointing. Still, you hadn't come out to meet anyone tonight, why the sudden rush of despondency? These were old work colleagues you rarely saw, and you figured it would be a night of catching up before six months of not seeing each other because life got in the way.

Then Harry asked for your number. Asked if you'd go out with him the next night. He didn't beat around the bush with it, he wanted to see you again and told you so. The way you said you would filled him with relief but also fear. Harry knew he'd need to really deliver with you, he couldn't half-arse it. He was terrified he'd overshoot it and lose the change to be someone who impressed you.

He settled on a Sunday evening picnic where the two of you ate takeaway on a beach towel at the top of a park halfway between your houses. Something told Harry you would be happier with him underplaying the date than you would be getting taken to an expensive, showy restaurant. You wore jean shorts and a long sleeve jumper which churned his body more deeply than the dress with the split from the night before. He was hooked.

"Do you not like olives?" Harry asked, sucking the oil off his fingers after just depositing one into his mouth. You instantly loved the way the inflection of his words rose at the end of his sentences, and you'd mock him for it your whole relationship.

You looked at the plastic container sitting between you, you'd been picking at the cheese and crackers, the antipasto was not your thing, "They don't seem like something humans should eat … Salty and rubbery with a tiny stone on the inside? No, thanks."

A laugh burst out of Harry's mouth as he picked up another green olive, "More for me then."

"I'm happy about the rosemary in these though," you held up a cracker before digging it into the hummus, a plastic-stemmed wine glass with a dry rose in your free hand, "You got the fancy ones."

"Only the best," Harry returned with a smile and then went on trying to playfully wedge more information from you about the secret poetry Instagram he was convinced you had. He was already feeling buzzed from the wine, but more from the way you kept looking at him and he couldn't catch a hint of you being anything other than yourself.

You didn't go home together that night either, despite The Kiss at the end next to his car. Despite Harry's hands on the back of your thighs as things got heated. The way the tips of his fingers feathered against the elastic of your knickers, just slipping under before pulling away. Your chests heaving together in a rhythm you'd never found with anyone else.

He felt like he had just auditioned for a part he wasn't sure yet that you were going to give him. Wine always heightened his anxiety, so Harry also wanted to appear controlled and measured. He wanted to be as thoughtful as you were. As connected to himself as you were to all your wonderful opinions and facts. There was some part of him that feared taking you home too soon might risk that being the only night Harry got. So he pulled away, kissed your cheek and promised to call you later on.

Somewhere along the line, Harry decided he wanted more than a little bit. He was greedy. Harry wanted the whole pie all to himself.

That was a theme, him wanting more. Even now, months since you've seen or heard from him. Harry always knew how to get you to take that one step out of your comfort zone, take that little bit extra risk. Letting go of him in one way felt like small release valve finally letting go. A tiny bit of your safety net tucking closer around you. A little quiet moment to take stock and check every part of you was still connected, still there. A deep breath in. A short pause of calming silence. Like getting your heart back … But then finding it didn't fit in your chest the same way anymore.

So you found it particularly cruel to have received a follow-up email from his assistant this week, checking to see if you were able to attend his show tonight.

The show that six months ago Harry drew you a mock ticket for and hand-delivered to you sitting outside in his garden with a tea and a biscuit. Even then, even as his girlfriend, you'd feigned not knowing if you could say whether you would attend. Now it felt foreboding, the way you'd pulled your features together thoughtfully and told Harry you'd have to see closer to the date. You waited just long enough for him to switch over into thinking you were serious before you laughed and told him of course and where else would I be?

Where else would I be, was right, in a sense. Because this is still your city, and you're here tonight. It's not his anymore. He moved soon after you broke up … Relocated to one of his—what was it you used to mockingly call them?—" location" homes. Houses you never saw in person. Places he never took you. Either Italy or France. Somewhere he could hide, be creative, recenter himself. All three of those things filled you with dread for different reasons.

Were you really going to go tonight though? Walk in through the front door of the venue with a ticket and barcode on your phone, sit in a crowd and listen to Harry for two hours? Look at him from across the room and just take it on the chin?

It certainly seemed you were dressed for it. And you were out of the house with time to get there. Would you get off the train at the stop though? Would you walk down the street with the bright sign his name lit up? Would Harry even know if you didn't go?

Part of you wonders if his assistant didn't mean to email you. Maybe she forgot you were no longer in Harry's life? Perhaps it was a scheduled email she forgot to stop? Probably it was Harry just being fucking nice, and polite, and worrying about how you'd feel if you were uninvited. Or if he didn't check in on you while he was here.

You accepted the reminder too easily and scolded yourself for it. His team was expecting you. Harry was expecting you. And now, sitting on the train and counting down the stops you felt caught. Felt like he had you again, even if it was just winning whatever tonight was.

Harry did always enjoy the chase. Admitted it himself, admitted to loving the beginning of meeting someone. Loving the audition process, the figuring each other out, the get. The Catch.

You wonder now if it was the chase he liked back then. Was it a thrill having you make him feel as though he had something to prove? Or was it Harry experiencing for the first time not having the upper hand, not having even the tiniest amount of weight around who he was count for anything. Now it felt like Harry was nothing but upper hand.

Whatever it was—the Chase, or your endless facts, pancakes on a Sunday morning—the part of Harry's lie about you being different that hurts the most is the way you bought into it so proudly. Wore it later as his girlfriend like a badge of honour. As though it signalled to others you'd been hard-won, and Harry was lucky to have you.

Different turned out to be such a dirty word.

Different turned out to mean nothing. To get you nowhere.

All different got you was Nothing To Him.

The second lie was that he saw a future with you.

Harry didn't shy away from talking about it. He made plans for you both.

Sometimes it was in the moments right before you both fell asleep at night, or in the final seconds before the kettle finished boiling. Always in some small window where his mind drifted and sat comfortably stagnant when all there was to think about was the next holiday you'd take together. Or what breed of dog you might have one day. Whether you wanted your kids to be close together in age or have larger age gaps between them. What you thought about silent retreats in Thailand.

He stored your answers away in the file full of you in his head or added them to the note on his phone with ideas for gifts for people or things going on in their lives he wanted to remember.

"My family have always had cats," he told you one night, fingers drawing circles around your bare kneecap, your naked thigh resting across his stomach, "When I'm settled I'd want to get a few of my own."

It was one of those hot summer nights no position felt comfortable for sleep, you raised your arms up over your head and stretched out further on the mattress, fingers dangling off the edge of the bed to feel the cold stream from the air conditioning unit above, "I don't trust cats. Isn't there something about them being evolutionarily build to hunt their owner?"

Harry turned his head to face you, "A fact for everything," he recited fondly, his common quip for your always having an answer for everything, "I'll let the cats hunt me, you'll be spared."

"As long as I can name them," you murmured, your eyes finally closing.

Close to three months later, an hour into unsuccessfully putting together a flat-pack shelving unit in Harry's garage, you heavily plopped yourself down on the concrete floor and hailed defeat. You tossed the small, silver Allen key onto the floor in Harry's direction and rested your chin in your palm.

A few minutes of watching his embittered attempts passed before he spoke.

"Hey Sulky, I can feel you looking at me," Harry was frowning at the short piece of timber in his hand, he was holding it next to what was supposed to be the base of the structure. This was your second attempt at pulling apart the shelves and starting again while you cursed the entire Swedish furniture empire. You were enjoying seeing Harry's stubborn frustration immensely.

He could be such a man sometimes.

"Yeah, 'cause you're hot," you said, mocking him dreamily.

"Ha ha," he drawled, rolling his shoulders back to try to regain his focus.

When he paused a moment later and looked up at you, his arms dropped as his brow softened and he let out a breath.

You grinned at him, "I'm pretty cute too, right?"

"All this shit is going to end up living on the ground because you're sabotaged the assembly!" He gestured wildly at the tools and spare paint colours for the house lying around you. His bike parts and the weird assortment of garden tools Harry collected were leaning against the wall waiting to be put on their new home as well, the shelf neither you nor Harry were skilled enough to put together.

"Baby," you began, but Harry waved you off, and you saw genuine frustration start to emerge on his face, "Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," you stressed, "Are you sure we're looking at this thing from the right way around? Maybe the designer meant for it to be wonky?"

He rolled his eyes at you. As if the mere thought anyone would design anything to look like the mess currently on the floor was purely preposterous—his temper for small frustrations on full display.

"Don't be rude!" You admonished, "It's a fucking shelf, we can do this, Harry."

It took you another hour and a half, but when it was done, Harry draped his arm around your shoulders, kissed you on the head and told you that you were the person he wanted by his side of all his future crisis. Someone to say to him, whatever the challenge was, it wasn't beyond him, wasn't something he couldn't handle or wasn't capable of.

You felt like you were floating that night.

It was one of those few times you could see your imprint on his life. See some evidence of it. There were shelves in his garage only there because you told him he needed storage there, and then you pushed him to keep trying assembling them. It was some proof you'd been in his life. An impression of your influence. A memory that would hover in his garage forever.

Two days after putting the shelves together, you and Harry had an argument about the plastic tubs he went off on his own to buy for all the loose bits and pieces he wanted to go on the shelves. You were annoyed he didn't purchase wooden ones, and he couldn't understand why it mattered that they were white plastic which would apparently be impossible to keep clean.

It's a garage, he thought, who's cleaning their garage?

And because arguments always dredge up things that they aren't supposed to, you made a jab about your relationship being secret.

You said something like, If I'd been able to come with you, we wouldn't be having this row!

Harry knew what you really meant straight away. You'd been together for more than nine months at that point, and nobody knew about it: nobody but your families and very very closest friends. There were no photos of Harry having lunch with you at a cafe, or of you walking a few steps behind him at the shops. Nobody had snuck a picture of you backstage at a show of his. He'd never appeared on your social media, even by suggestion, and Harry had never taken the risk including you on any private Instagram Stories.

Those photographs didn't exist, because those circumstances never had. There wasn't even a celebrity paper trail linking you to knowing Harry, let alone dating him. Harry didn't dedicate performances to you, or even to an unnamed significant other. You never got a song or an album dedication. Harry was so adamant on nobody getting wind of the relationship that sometimes it felt like … Like he enjoyed the sneaking around. The having a secret. (Later on, when you reflected on the relationship once it was over, you really weren't sure how there'd never been even one instance of you being seen coming or going from Harry's house. Hindsight made that feel suss to you.)

Most of the time you liked it, though, liked not having any fuss or interruption to your life but sometimes—a lot of the time—it felt like something silently eroding you from the inside—a silent acid eating your spirit.

But you'd never tell Harry that. Then anyway. Now … You're not sure what you'd tell him now.

The truth was a lot of the time you weren't sure how you'd managed to keep it going so long. Part of it was obvious, maybe, like not being in public together. But still, surely after being together months and having arguments about shelves you could afford a platonic appearing coffee trip or going for a run at the same time, together?

Instead, you'd gear up and run in opposite directions down his street. Or Harry would stay in the car while you went in for the coffee. You'd sit in a nosebleed seat if you went to a show, sneaking through some fire exit and into the main hallways of a venue with the public to get to it. You looked like a sad woman attending a gig on your own, not the girlfriend of the star.

Nobody would know you even knew the man up on stage. That you had something in the slow cooker at home for you both to eat when you got home, or that he'd stolen a tube of your favourite lip balm and had it in his blazer pocket for his set. Nobody would guess you made him late for the soundcheck with just a smile and the undoing of a zip.

Seeing him tonight would be just like it always was, you and Harry from across the room. But then not like always, because Harry wouldn't see you tonight. You wouldn't have the taste of a good luck kiss on your lips. Or the sound of Harry's warm-up in your ears. Yours was always an invisible connection that was kept invisible by design, and now being broken up, it looked no different than together. Not really.

Tonight though it would only be you seeing Harry. Like you see him on late-night talk show promotions and billboards. Like the times you get into an Uber, and his song is playing. How strange it feels, to have your heart crack in your chest again while also lifting somehow. Singing along with a song about you. Or hearing his laugh or even just Harry speaking, and being able to picture the exact expression that would go along with it.

Every raised inflection. Ever breathy giggle. Every brow crease at a thought that Harry was chasing or somehow unable to articulate. All of those turning into you picturing what he looked like every time he knew he was disappointing you. Every whined sorry and all the instances of him loving on you to move your mind away from his deficiencies.

"What's the plan for Y/N?"

If your relationship with Harry was a t-shirt, that would be the slogan across the chest. Those would be the words under the cartoon impression of you banging your head against a wall Harry's standing on the other side of.

How will Y/N get in? Who's staying behind with Y/N? Where will I meet up with Y/N?

There was always a question. Always a plan for you and it was decidedly separate to the plan for Harry. His team organised a second car or an earlier flight for you. A back entrance or some other smokescreen to keep you concealed. In the beginning, it felt like a kindness, but in the end, you were embarrassed by it. The bother, the way what started as a careful consideration for your wellbeing turned into something rotten that painted you a different colour to Harry and his public inner circle, the circle you were never invited or initiated into.

It was exhausting. But Harry assured you it was for the best.

You wonder what the future he saw for you really was though. How much further did Harry see a life like that going? A life with you perpetually operating under cover of darkness. A life of you decidedly not existing. Not really.

So when he said he saw a future with you, you're really not sure what Harry meant.

Did he mean one day he saw himself lifting the veil and telling the world he had a Someone? Or did he mean that he saw himself forever hiding you, forever living that lie?

Maybe he actually saw nothing.

Sometimes you could be convinced the fact Harry hid you was an action pointing to a more profound truth.

That the future he saw was an imagined indulgence; a convenience, and a comfortable lie. Comforting on a temporary level, like bowling alley bumper rails or the plastic covering on a new watch face. The fake sense of security—of protection, of immaculacy—was just that, artificial and temporary. It ceased to exist the minute you plucked the corner and pulled back the protective layer. Crashed as soon as the bumpers were flipped down.

You were a secret only Harry had any power over. He led from the front because you didn't know there was any other option. And in letting yourself be that, you made yourself easily dispensable.

Disposable. Replaceable. Erasable.

Which is precisely what happened when he left.

Harry left, and the You of the two of you ended. But more than any other relationship ever could, the silence that followed felt deadly. It wasn't just a relationship that once was, it was a relationship that never was. A year of your life made no imprint on his. Nobody looking at him could know there was anything—anybody—missing, and maybe that was the whole point.

Maybe that was the design of it.

The third lie was that you could tell him anything.

Harry's golden rule always was honest communication.

There's no such thing as an overshare, he'd say when you naturally hesitated.

He was all about that. All about hearing what was worrying you, or the mundane things that were going on in your world. Sometimes you felt like maybe it was an act because nobody had ever found your family, or your friends, or your life in general as interesting as Harry seemed to. He was always telling you he loved hearing the funny text conversations going on, or who was having a row and why, or what each of your friends was stressed about in their jobs or relationships or themselves. And Harry always said he loved hearing it from you the most.

(Now, that struck you as a strange thing to say. Where else would he hear anything about you? Harry was the only line connecting you back to him. You didn't have mutual friends or people who'd known you both before you dated each other. There was nobody for Harry to hear anything from. It's not like your friends were going to reach out to him with gossip about you. Not like how you could sneak a look at update accounts or read about his performance online while he was away.)

Still, you loved the stories he told from the road, ate them up. The missing coffee mugs where everyone got their caffeine fix served in wine glasses and lemonade tumblers for almost two whole weeks. And then the tour t-shirts accidentally ordered in bulk in children's sizes that Harry hand-delivered them to a local children's charity. The crumbs of gossip Harry picked up about who in his team was sweet on who (he loved a setup, loved watching crushes silently and awkwardly orbit around each other).

Your secrets were safe with him, he promised. He wouldn't ever judge you. Wouldn't dismiss your feelings or what kept you awake at night next to him. So you did it. You believed him. And you slowly drained everything inside of you into him. Harry got all your stories, even the ones you vowed to leave exactly where they sat in your past. Even the ones you felt like might kill you to dredge back up. The ones that made you look like a shitty friend or sister or daughter. He got them all.

And even now, he's still got them.

"What's the biggest lie you ever told?" He asked you one night in his kitchen, both of you elbow deep in making dinner. Harry rolled out the lines of gnocchi and cut the inch long pieces while you pressed them over a fork to decoratively indent them. (Although Harry likes to tell you how when he was in Italy he learned in patterns weren't just aesthetic—it was all about soaking up more of the sauce, For the sauce, of course! He'd sing out in an Italian accent, proud of himself.) "Like, a proper lie," he clarified, "Not like how you told my mum you didn't take sugar in your tea when you first met her."

You hinged your knee out to attack his calf for the teasing comment but then rolled your lips together in thought, "I lied to my parents a lot growing up," you told him honestly. "I think about eighty per cent of the time I wasn't where I told them I was. Definitely wasn't with who I said I was with."

Harry shook his head as he rolled out the next lump of dough, "No, I mean like … Like a lie."

A moment passed as you thought more deeply about the question, travelled around your memories until you landed somewhere suitable, "I lied to my boyfriend at university," you begin. "A pretty bad one, I guess."

"And the lie was …" Harry prompts.

"I told him I was a virgin before him."

Harry eyes raised, and then he nodded, accepting it, "I think that's probably a common one, really."

"I thought he'd like me more if I said it," I admitted quietly, pausing the work with your hands. "Wasn't too proud of losing my virginity in a tent in the sixth form … And I mean, at that age you just so desperately want to be the version of you that you think the people around you will like the most. A whole group of us went camping at someone's grandparent's farm during the summer holidays. Not sure how our parents let us, to be honest. Anyway, I had awful, painful, embarrassing sex in a tent with a guy named … Dylan Fraiser."

You were surprised by how long the name took to come to you. Years ago, that was such a defining event in your life. Now it hardly mattered at all anymore.

Progress, you thought.

"A tent," Harry winced.

"Really came back to bite me in the arse when my uni boyfriend went on to tell a group of his mates he was my first and—

—Tent Guy was one of them?" Harry guessed. Correctly.

"Yep. Small towns are a curse."

"I promise never to have sex with you in a tent," Harry teased, grinning at you over his wine glass and then leaning over to kiss your temple. He looked down at the line of gnocchi pieces you'd made together proudly, "We're alright at this."

"Hmmm," you hummed, now lost in the past, "I told that uni boyfriend him I loved him … I didn't though," you say without thinking, shrugging as the words came out, "I thought he was boring. But it was cool to have a boyfriend, so I didn't break up with him … Guess I've told more whoppers than I thought."

Harry gives you an understanding look, "I've said I love you to protect someone's feelings too. Thought it might come a little later, that I was just not feeling it as quickly as them."

It should have made you question whether Harry meant I love you with you. But it didn't. He was speaking in the past tense, and you were imaging that version of him being younger than the almost thirty-year-old you were dating. Now though … You wonder what love meant to Harry when you were together. Whether your wires were crossed by different definitions. Even now, you couldn't vilify him. Not completely. He was too thoughtful in general, there'd be a reason for it. There always was with Harry.

"What's your biggest lie?" You turned the exercise back on him, smiling as he refilled your wine glass and skipped a few songs on the playlist. These were your favourite moments with Harry. The end of the day, where you were the only thing on his to-do list. There wasn't a lingering work call, or a meeting to prepare for, an email to reply to. Harry was just finishing his day with dinner and some time at home. With you.

Harry gave you a withering look, "I think you know already."

"I don't," you said because you really didn't, "What was it?"

"There's no way I'll ever do anything else with The Band," he said tonelessly as he turned to rinse his hands in the sink, unable to look at you while he said it. And even then, Harry didn't admit to the lie. Didn't name it. He just said what the truth was instead.

"Why wouldn't you?" You asked, instead of what you were sure Harry thought you'd ask.

You weren't interested in why he told that particular lie though, the answer to that was pretty apparent to you: he cared about his fans—they all did—and didn't want to disappoint them. And they probably hadn't been able to deal with thinking about the ripples ending it completely, right off the bat, would have caused. Saying you were taking a break was a much nicer way to let a world of fans down. An easier pill to swallow than 'We're done' straight off the bat.

You gave Harry time to respond. He fiddled with the gnocchi pieces in front of him, waiting for the water to boil in the pot behind you both, "Not sure, really."

He was lying now, and you could tell. He was ashamed of the truth.

"You're not sure?"

"I just wouldn't, there's no one reason. No big thing. It's not like I hate them all or anything, I just …"

There was one big thing, though. And it was typical Harry to not be able to name it. He was always so in denial about his own arrogance, about what it was that drove him. Harry thought he was above them. His success since The Band far outweighed anything any of the others had done. Going back to that would be diminishing for Harry's career. Wouldn't help him any. He was stronger on his own, more successful. More widely appreciated. That chapter of his life was done, it had been a stepping stone—yes, a life-defining one—but Harry had moved to bigger and brighter stages on his own.

"It's not what you think," he told you lowly when you didn't ask anything further.

It was so typical of Harry to not see the forest for the trees. To not see how he, yet again, was blurring and confusing the lines between a business decision and an emotional, personal one. He was speaking about The Band emotionally, but his reason for distancing himself from it was all to do with business.

"It's not?" You asked plainly.

"I don't think I'm better than them or some shit," Harry said, "I just … That part of me is done. I'm not who I was back then, and I don't want to go back to that person."

"You also wouldn't get anything out of it," you prod, knowing that you shouldn't have. But it was true. So much of Harry's life was a business decision. Everything was so carefully done, so deliberately set into place by him and his team that results and his successes were almost guaranteed.

At the time, you didn't understand how he couldn't see it. Or you couldn't believe that he didn't. He was so calculating, and he hated you telling him so. But he was. He liked to say he wasn't defined by his job, but Harry's whole life was defined by his career, by the who he was.

He loved to spout off his public shit about staying grounded and having a life away from being Harry Styles ™, but he didn't let anyone see even a skerrick that life. The only thing Harry ever let be projected about him was his job, that was all was ever on the table for discussion. And so it was hardly surprising that became who he was away from the cameras and lights as well.

Hiding you was a business decision, you figured out in the aftermath of The End. It was his way of keeping the narrative about his music and career on track. As soon as there was a You, Harry's private life would distract from his real focus and goal, his career. And you mean, it's not like it didn't work for him. Because here you were, standing outside in the chilly night looking at his name up in lights.

Harry's name always looked so good up on billboards and the fronts of stadiums. You always used to tell him even the letters of his name were visually pleasing, they looked good together, like they fit. So you stand on the street across the road from tonight's venue and take it in—HARRY STYLES, SOLD OUT—for several minutes.

You don't know that you're ready for this. Seeing him. You've so perfectly avoided it until now. Until you felt like there was a promise you made lifetimes ago you now can't break. Even if you felt like he'd broken a thousand promises between the two points in time.

Where else would I be? you'd said when he first drew that stupid mock ticket.

Where else, indeed.

You scuttle across the street and sneak between people to get yourself in through the doors. Dodging lenders selling merchandise and ticket holders excitedly covering their painstakingly planned outfits with t-shirts Harry—aided by his perfectionism, you were sure— probably spent months deciding on.

The barcode won't scan though. And the usher at the door doesn't appreciate you pulling your phone back and trying to adjust the backlight, as though that will help the loud, angry sound his scanner is making each time he aims it at the email on your screen. He eventually reads part of your email and then tells you that you need to stand off to the side, barks something gruffly into his walkie talkie and dismisses you in favour of getting through the backlog of people behind you. You're filled with a white-hot embarrassment as you shuffle over and stand under a neon EXIT sign. A moment later you step forward and ask him to try again, but that doesn't get you anywhere different, and you think you're going to get in some kind of trouble when he insists Just stand back over there for a moment.

Your feet have already started hurting in your too-tight boots when finally the wall behind you opens up, and you very quickly come face to face with Harry's assistant.

"Y/N," she smiles, "I thought I said in the email to call me when you got here?"

You're dumbstruck, you didn't read the email, not properly. "I … I …"

"It's good to see you again," her smile hasn't moved, and it's genuine. She reaches one hand out towards you and deposits a VIP lanyard around your neck, "Follow me."

You get halfway down the emergency exit, and she sidesteps a security guard through a doorway, leading you into the veins of the backstage area where there's a familiar buzz of busy people you'd not realised you missed being around until now. Your heart is racing because you weren't prepared for this. You'd been deliberately dragging your feet getting here, and you've arrived barely fifteen minutes before Harry's due to go on stage. She's walked you right to the side of the stage where there's a curtain just to your left and scaffolding all around. You can hear the audience, and you know that one step through that curtain will take you to the pit side of the stage, where you'd seen Harry's family stand during shows before.

"He wanted to say hi beforehand but," his assistant looks at her watch, "But it's a touch too close now so are you okay if I leave you here for just a second? I'll be back in …" her eyes go back to her wrist, "Probably about twenty-five?"

"That's fine," you nod dumbly. "Are you sure this okay?"

You're looking around wondering if this is where Harry meant you to be. Really, you're sure this isn't where he intended you to watch his show at all. A few people are milling around but nobody you recognise, and you figure the majority of them are probably venue employees. Harry and his band would only walk through here at the very last second. He didn't like standing around beforehand with anyone who wouldn't be on stage with him. Harry got in his zone and needed to stay there.

When you look back at his assistant she's giving you a look you don't want to read too deeply, but it almost looks like pity, "Of course," she tells you, "I'll be back by the end of the first song."

"I might go stand through here now," you point to the curtain, preferring the thought of standing in the dark by yourself than waiting for Harry to walk straight past you during his thirty-second countdown. "Is that okay?"

You get a nod, and she tells you to grab a drink off the table behind you. Leaving you with your heart rattling and the heaviest lanyard you've ever worn burning through your shirt to your chest.

Finding a spot to watch the show was easy. You picked the furthest side of the pit, under the concrete overhand of the seats above, and stand in the shadows, only half the stage in your line of sight. It felt like a little cave almost, and you lean your back against the cold concrete and tap your boots together on the ground below you.

The area starts filling around you as members of Harry's team finish their part in preparing him for the show. There are a few women wearing belts with makeup brushes and combs peaking out of them, and two familiar faces from Harry's executive team. They don't see you, though, and you're glad. You watch the roadies' torches flash on the dark stage as they neaten up leads and manoeuvre over amp boxes double-checking the guitars are in the right order for the sets.

There's a movement in your periphery that draws your attention back, the group of people who joined you in the pit all gravitating towards something back at the curtain. And it's not until one of them steps to the side that you see the floating head that's poking through the dark material.

Harry.

He's staring right at you: no expression on his face, just his searching, green eyes that stop when they see you standing in the dark as far from him as you can possibly be. He takes half a step forward, and the shoulder of an expensive suit peeks out. You hear in your head echos of a moment in Harry's living room unpacking a delivery from Gucci, the way you nearly choked on your tea at the cost of a tailored trouser and his half frustrated dismissal, 'It's nothing, that's standard for me.' You felt small at that moment, thinking about how one of Harry's suits could pay for your education for a year, and that would be nothing for him.

You feel small now too. This isn't the space you're supposed to occupy.

The shadow of a frown barely cross his features, but then Harry tries to pull his dimples up to give you a small smile. But it's testing, it's not a confident smile or one he looks sure he's giving. Like he's smiling at someone he's not sure will smile back.

There's no way I'll ever do anything else with the band, he'd said.

But that wasn't the biggest lie he'd told, just the most public, the widest.

His deepest, biggest lie was you.

The fourth lie was that he loved you.

Harry was the one to say it first.

It came out like a compliment. A response to a fact of yours he'd particularly liked. A sort of well done, that was a good one.

It was nearly two months since you'd met, and what started as three or four dates a week morphed into you staying at Harry's house most nights. You spending your weekends off work trailing around after him on his errands or to work things, or hanging out alone at his place until he returned from them. A couple of times, you went to the same exercise class, which involved the two of you going separately and not interacting at all. Still, you'd peek at him from across the room and have to hold your giggles for later when Harry spent the hour concentrating beyond anything you'd ever seen just to stay in the seat of the spin bike.

Saturdays and Sundays he started taking off too though, around a month into dating you. No more 6am weekend PT sessions or midday conference calls with creative teams. The only work Harry allowed himself to do on weekends was housework. Laundry. Food prep. Touching base with his mum.

"Did you know blueberries are actually false berries?"

"No, I did not know blueberries are actually false berries," Harry parroted back to you. You catch the half rolling of his eyes at you where you're sitting up in your favourite spot on the bench next to the hob, peering at him keeping careful watch over breakfast: blueberry pancakes. He was wearing just his pants, chest bare and cool in the autumn morning air. You were rugged up in leggings and a sweater, unsure how he could stand being in such a state of undress.

"It's true," you reaffirmed your tidbit, popping a false berry into your mouth while Harry—with far too much concentration for the job at hand—dropped the small round berries on top of the batter sizzling in the pan. "Berries by definition are fleshy, pulpy ovary fruits that have their seeds embedded on the outside. Blueberry seeds are on the inside. So they aren't really berries."

"Ovary fruits?" He questioned, with a look of mild distaste.

Your shoulders dropped as you realised Harry knew less than you thought he did, "All fruit are ovaries, Harry. Think about it."

He does for a moment, and you can practically see the cogs turning. Harry thinking about how fruit grows on their plants and bushes and shrubs. The fact of what an ovary is when it comes to basic anatomy. And when he comes to the full circle of it, he groans, "That is so weird."

"I think it's cool," you grinned. "Like a little bit cannibalistic in a way."

He barked out a laugh at that, "I don't think that's what it is."

"Well, maybe not technically," you conceded, "But it's something … Really makes you rethink eating eggs."

"Oh my god," Harry was truly laughing then, "Stop, please."

"Sorry," you peeped with a cringed look, tossing back half a handful of the small, round fruit in front of you.

He was shaking his head at you, laughter bubbling out between his perfectly straight teeth, and then it just slipped out, "Fuck, I love you."

The words didn't bump over any hesitation. I love you, Harry said.

Your stomach dropped instantly, but the fond happiness dancing across Harry's face didn't go anywhere. He didn't look back at the pancakes or to where your hands were wringing together on your lap. Harry held your gaze and didn't dodge away from what he said at all. Like he knew you'd need a moment with it, that you weren't expecting him to just come out with that.

"I love you," he repeated after a moment, smiling when he saw your lips start to turn up, "I mean it."

Hearing him yell the same words through the microphone from stage sizzles your heart a little, like the pancakes that day crackled in the pan as Harry pushed himself into you on the kitchen floor. You remember the feeling of his hands under your clothes, your leggings barely halfway down your thighs before he was claiming you in a wave of lust, pushed by the new, invisible force in your relationship—love.

The floor under you now vibrates as everyone gets to their feet to join Harry dancing through his first song. You stare at him, daring him to look over at you but knowing he won't. The longer you stand there, the more you thaw out to it, the more you find yourself with a smile on your face and a slight sway to your hips. His music is fun and familiar and feels like clicking into place.

It's mesmerising. He's mesmerising.

You don't like admitting you'd forgotten how good at this he was. He has the whole crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. Even his crew around you are grinning ear to ear and singing along. Sharing private jokes between them and cutting dance moves in small groups as they watch the show. It's fun. And it reminds you that so much of your relationship with Harry was like that. That there were countless nights spent dancing in the living room or screaming at laptop screens doing board game nights with his family.

You'd forgotten that you could laugh so hard your belly hurt and that Harry was one of the few people who'd ever been able to get you to that point of joy. Watching him throw joy off the stage now at thousands of people was reminding you how very good Harry was—used to be—at making you feel like the only person in the world to him.

"Babe," his giggles filtered down the hallway and into the bathroom where you were plucking your eyebrows, "Babe! Come … Come see this."

You rolled your eyes as you put the tweezers down and padded into his living room, not at all surprised to see Harry pretzeled on his yoga mat in a fit of laughter. He did this a lot, called you away from a task or from work for something hilarious that ninety-nine per cent of the time wasn't hilarious at all. You'd end up snorting out laughter of your own though, at him.

Now, Harry had one of his feet hooked behind his neck while the other was prostrate on the floor behind him.

"You're doing great, baby," you condescended lightly, tilting your head to the side and frowning at his position. It looked awful and not at all calming, let alone comfortable. He wasn't a very good advertisement for yoga at all.

"They say this one's great for—great for," he giggled too much to get the words out, his arms holding his torso back so his legs would do what he wanted them to, he took a deep breath, "It's meant to be the yoga colonic."

Harry was heaving with laughter as he finally got it out, his position faltered, and you watched as his limbs all fell back to the mat as he leant forward cackling. You were grinning too, amused by how amused he was.

"Been feeling backed up, have you?" You asked him, crossing your arms as you hitch one hip out.

He rolled over on his back and wheezed out the final string of laughter, one hand holding his lower tummy as if it ached from the whole spectacle, as his other hand reached out for your ankle, "Come down here with me."

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to be unhappy to be dragged down on top of him, your hips resting on his thighs as your chin propped up on your hands at his chest, "It's very entertaining how entertaining you find yourself," you mused.

Harry rubbed the tears from his eyes and then settled his hands on your back, breathing in the pleasant weight of you there, "I just—I was thinking about what they think the yoga colonic is going to do." His giggles started again, "Imagine being in a class and it literally working? Everyone just—everyone just shits themselves!"

You can feel his laugher, his bones pushing yours up as his whole body fills with his happiness. The stream of tears coming from the corners of his eyes start again as he squeezed his eyes shut while the sound of Harry's deep, uninhibited laughter filled the whole house again.

The memory brings back a smile, like so many with Harry do.

But there's still the Too Fresh Sting of your final moments with him, your last moments with him. You've not seen him since that evening months ago where you both yapped at each other things that couldn't be unsaid, unhappinesses that couldn't be reverted or unadmitted. It wasn't like the fights you had about Harry's casualised view of money and how he'd drop thousands of pounds on seemingly nothing without thinking how small it could make you feel. Or the times you'd snap in frustration when Harry tuned out of you complaining about an issue with your friends he deemed as superfluous or rooted in something silly or not as essential as the Important Thing He Was Planning. He could be so dismissive when he didn't think something mattered highly enough on his scale of measuring things.

The Harry dancing around on stage in front of you wasn't the man who said you were independent like it was a dirty word. Yelled across the kitchen that it was too easy for the two of you to be apart, you didn't miss him enough. The man who told you he didn't feel like you needed him, thought you were always standing with one foot out the door the whole time you were together. And you can remember being flabbergasted (still are, really) by what he was saying because it just wasn't true at all. You? Too independent? You spent every night at his house, and were at Harry's beck and call the whole relationship. And you can hear all the times you said 'what would I do without you?' when he talked you off a ledge or had answers to questions you believed to be unanswerable.

You can see how it was another classic example of Harry telling a non-truth to cover up what was really there. To distract from his own shortcomings. He accused you of what he was feeling, of his flaws. Making them your problem meant he didn't have to be vulnerable. Didn't have to take a risk his business manager hadn't guaranteed. Didn't have to gamble on your future together.

In the relationship, he always had the upper hand. And maybe you did have one foot out the door emotionally, but that was only because you had to. Harry never invited you in with him completely. You were always on the outer. After nearly a year of dating you were still The Girlfriend He Didn't Have.

But I fucking love you, he'd said when he sensed where that night was going. Like Harry had a list of grievances, and it wasn't until he got to the end of reading them out to you that he realised where it landed him. He told you he loved you as though it would erase all the things about you he seemed to dislike so much. Things about yourself you apparently couldn't see.

Hindsight has taught you that if anyone was too independent, or hesitant to commit fully in that relationship, it was Harry.

Halfway through his set, Harry's assistant comes over to check on you, and you end up chatting for a few minutes about how you've been. She speaks to you like there was some club you were a member of and she missed your meetings. Although neither of you references the breakup, or acknowledge in another life you had a lot more to do with each other, the unspoken things weigh on your chest. You find yourself wiping away a quiet tear when she walks back over to the main group watching Harry.

Of course, that's when he teeters over to your side of the stage and looks straight at you. His expression falls instantly, and you're sure that he only meant to glance at you in passing, but what he sees has him doing a double-take and fixing his gaze on you for two lines of the song he's midway through. He tugs on the collar of his shirt and Harry's eyes are desperately trying to read what you're thinking, just like that day he told you he loved you at the end of the breakup, as though you'd forget everything that came before it.

You stick your thumb out to him and give him your best fake smile. Like he might be led to believe you were crying about something else. As if you hadn't just pulled his attention from a room full of people who'd paid for his attention tonight. At that moment you think the fact there's a secret love and life between you must be too obvious to everyone else. There's a connection, something whirls around the room between you and it feels threatening and perilous to how you've been trained to think things have to be.

You wait until Harry turns and goes the other way across the stage before you push off from the wall and walk out.

At first, love was an encouragement between you. It was approval, a showing of appreciation. Love was a promise that was just for the two of you. A declaration that validated everything you were doing together. Love was a feeling that proved what every action meant.

Then, love was a bandaid, was a line used in desperation to fix something unfixable, and you walk the world with skun knees now because of it. Love was never just love. It was used to fix the wrong things.

And in the end, nothing healed at all.

The fifth lie was that he'd always fight for you.

Harry promised you that the two of you would make it work.

You'd make up after every argument, big or small. The little ones that were those tiny bickerings in the car which somehow roared into yelling matches. Or when one person's grumpiness from the day leaked into your evening together. You always expected his call or the long sigh that would precede his apology. You never got halfway home to your house if you left his after a row. He'd call and beg for you to come back, that nothing was worth you physically leaving being near him. You left knowing before the night was done the two of you would reconcile.

Until it was That Fight you were leaving after. The one that began The End.

It started because Harry was overseas for a few weeks. While he was away, you suggested the two of you going on a holiday together during the summer. An anniversary trip. From the other side of the world, it was easy enough for Harry to worm his way of out of it. He went off on a tangent about there being no holidays (rest) for the wicked and then got you talking about something else until you forgot how you'd been sold on the idea of lying on a beach with him for a week.

When Harry got home, you had it stored in an unhappy little pocket in your mind. Top of the agenda for when he returned.

"Can we talk about the holiday thing again?" You asked his first night home.

He sighed against you, his body gearing up for a reunion that didn't involve speaking, lips attached to your neck while his hands danced around the band of your bra, "Do we have to right now?"

"Well," your instinct was to back away from the tension rising between you, "I'd like to."

Harry pushed his hair up off his face and briefly looked at the ceiling, "I don't see how we can, babe. It's too hard, logistically. Just take a week off work and stay with me here."

"I already stay here," you counter, "I'm talking about a holiday somewhere. A beach. Or a ski resort. Something fun and different."

"Those places are all busy," Harry complained, his hands off you. He started to pack the dishwasher from dinner.

"I just want to go away with you, do something normal, you know?"

He clipped the side of the sink with a dinner plate and swore angrily under his breath, "Fuck."

"Don't get angry."

"I'm not fucking angry," he growled, tossing your forks into the plastic crate, "I just fucking got home, and you're straight into this. No 'I missed you so much' or 'It's so great to see you'… Just straight into going on a holiday as if I have endless time to mess about."

"What do you mean? We've just eaten dinner together, you told me all about your trip. I said I was happy to have you home!"

"Yeah, well, feels like you just don't give a fuck that I'm back."

You frowned at him starting to get annoyed yourself, "I cried on our FaceTime call on the weekend because I missed you! You have a lobotomy since then?"

"Don't yell," Harry instructed quietly like he was chastising a child for not controlling themselves.

"What's this about, Harry?" You asked. "Why is it such a crime for me to want to go away with my boyfriend?"

He sighed again, "It's not."

"Right," you crossed your arms over your chest and wondered how many times he could wipe down the chopping board.

Probably one more time.

"So …"

"So what?" Harry repeated, "What do you want from me?"

His words and their harshness shocked you, and that was the exact moment you started worrying this was going to turn into Something Else. Not just a Normal Fight.

"I want you to tell me why you're so annoyed by this?"

It would have been so easy for you to break down and scream about how insane it was that you were talking about celebrating your first anniversary with him and the relationship was still a secret. How badly you wanted to throw that out there, but there was a wise fear in you which said that would be a death wish. (That fact haunts you today, how you knew he'd never step out with you. There wasn't any hope in you or promise from him it wouldn't always be that way. You knew your place and where the boundary line was, don't push past this point. And you always behaved. Never peeped out of your box.)

"It's like you don't even need me," Harry said bitterly, "You're so fucking independent. What's the point?"

"What are you talking about?" You gushed, nearly swallowing your tongue when he turned back to look at you for the first time.

"You don't need me," he accused, "You've always got one foot out the door."

"I don't," came your defence, but you both knew it was the truth. You were halfway out the door because you hadn't been invited all the way in yet.

"You don't want this life with me," Harry shook his head, "You've never been happy where we are. Relationships don't work that way, you can't just keep demanding the same thing hoping you'll wear me down. That's not fair."

Tears shake out of your eyes slowly as your body catches up with what he's saying, "Harry."

"It's not fair!" He repeated loudly. "You can't keep on about it."

About what? You want to ask him because you hadn't mentioned a holiday until the week before. That's not what he was really angry about. He was talking about The Secret. And his guilt was showing. His anger was misdirected, aimed at the wrong thing. He muttered something to himself you didn't hear.

"I didn't hear that."

"I said," Harry looked up at you, and when your eyes clicked together you saw surprise rise and then quickly disappear as if he hadn't expected to see you there. "I said, I don't think we can keep doing this."

"You don't think we can keep doing this?" You repeated it because the words hardly sounded like English the first time you heard them.

I don't think we can keep doing this.

Harry stood across from you with no expression on his face. And it took a few moments for him to own up to what he said, but he does. He nods his head once, awkwardly, and then nods again.

"We can't keep doing this," he tells you, sounding defeated, and then his voice rises again—in pitch, not in volume—"But I fucking love you!"

But I fucking love you.

As if that was enough.

It was days of you expecting a call, and a make up that never came. Expecting the fight for your relationship Harry promised you he'd always put up. You wanted him to prove that you were someone he couldn't do without. You hated the thought of him walking around his house and not feeling the absence of you as some impossible weight he couldn't bear.

"Y/N!" Your name sounds out behind you, but you keep walking, an instantaneous decision that pretending not to hear her might work.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't.

Harry's assistant keeps chasing you down the hall she initially led you through, calling your name and eventually getting you to stop and turn around because, well, you can't keep pretending she's not there forever.

"I'm just finding a loo," you lie.

"There's one this way," she points over her shoulder, in the direction you both came from, "Harry said if you tried to leave I had to go with you, which, for my own dignity I'd really prefer not to have to do."

You find yourself scoffing, "Who said he's in charge of how long I stay?"

Her expression softens somewhat, "He just wants to see you after."

How dare he think he can control this still, you think.

You know she's not the person to be frustrated with. You should be frustrated with yourself first, for coming, and then with Harry for deciding he could orchestrate this … This whatever it was. Still, you find yourself biting out your reply, "He saw me from stage," you tell her bitterly.

"And he'll have seen that you're not there anymore," she replies patiently,, "It'll throw off his focus if he's worried you've gone home halfway through."

You fall into step beside her but can't give him the win, "Quite frankly, it's not my concern or responsibility anymore if his focus is thrown or not."

She wordlessly points out where the bathrooms are just in front of you. You're trying not to make eye contact with anyone who's in these backstage hallways. They feel like ghosts from a life that's not yours anymore.

The first time you met any of Harry's People you'd felt absolutely mortified. The whole thing felt awkward to you, meeting assistants and managers and creative directors. Putting faces and humans to jobs done for Harry. He was a lot of people's boss, and it made you uncomfortable because you'd not seen that side to him before. You knew things like how hot he liked his showers and what yogurt he liked on his muesli in the morning.

That first—and only—step into his professional world, was in a venue just like this one where Harry was filming a music video for a few days. The stage was set up like it was for live a show, and you overheard someone saying setting up for a shoot was more involved than for an actual performance. Harry wanted you to see what this part of his world looked like and despite them not fitting in either of the Friends or Family categories you'd laid out for People Allowed To Know About You, his "Team" were people Harry felt safe introducing to you. (NDAs were a powerful thing) He led you through the hallways by the hand and stuck his head into every room with a cheery, 'Hullo, just bringing Y/N around to meet everyone.'

You remember one person declaring they were happy to be meeting you. Harry was too young to be married to his job, they said with a relieved tone, That it was good he'd found his Someone. Harry beamed at that, looking down at you as if thinking, Yeah, I have found my Someone.

Now you stand back in the pit side of stage, and Harry looks down at you with a hesitation that makes you more uncomfortable than when you were watching him film that music video. His assistant has brought you back to where his team are standing, and you feel more than one set of eyes take stock of you returning, a shared glance between a manager and the girl shadowing you. A wide-eyed exchange that says, That was the last thing we needed. When Harry comes to the side of stage between songs, he's hunting for a bottle of water, but you can see he's come to that side because his eyes are focused on hunting for you.

When he sees you've returned, he slowly takes a sip of water, eyes not leaving yours. You feel like he's admonishing you in his head, seeing how weak you were, that you ran away after a little eye contact. There's a distaste there, you think, and as he's putting the cap back on the bottle, Harry opens his mouth like he's going to try to say something to you, but he stops. He frowns at his hands as he puts the bottle down and then turns away, bringing the microphone back up to his lips and slipping back into entertainer mode.

"In a lot of ways, I hate this next song," he starts slowly, speaking over the band as they begin to slow down the tempo of the night. A smoke machine whirls to life and pumps out a few big clouds, shrouding the stage behind Harry. "I really hate it."

He pauses. And your insides freeze in your chest. You're hanging off his every word, just like every other body in the room. Harry stands right on the front of the stage, toes almost touching the drop off. He's looking out at the audience and lets the microphone hang at his side. Makes no move to keep talking. Was he looking for someone out there, or was he running over what he was about to say in his head? Rehearsing it, making sure it was exactly what needed to be said.

Where you used to see thoughtfulness you now see calculation.

Give nothing away. Sell only the product. Push the song. Let people come to their own conclusions.

"This is a song about," he says carefully, a crack to his voice that sends adrenaline shooting straight down your legs, "About regretting that you've hurt someone. And about the helplessness of wishing you could make them forget what you said, but … Knowing you can't take it back."

You watched Harry trail around to the upright piano on stage and sit himself down on the stool. He stares at his hands hovering over the keys for a moment too long, but you're sure Harry's audience would let him take a hundred more. You see what perhaps they don't—the hesitation. You'd witnessed it enough to spot it, even across the stage in the dark from thirty feet away.

He's not sure about playing the song.

You think about contacting him by telepathy. Saying, I'll leave so you can go back to your show. You don't have to pretend I'm not here, I'll just go. Like I wanted to. Like I tried to.

But he plays it.

You've not heard it before, but the rest of the room has, and they sing along with him. You hear a couple of thousand people sing with your ex-boyfriend about him regretting the way he treated you. And you're almost able to talk yourself out of believing it's about you, you can nearly reason with yourself that it's kind of vague. Other than naming the cafe he'd sat in the car park of a hundred times waiting for you to return with a takeaway, it could be about anyone, really.

But he sings out a line and looks straight at you, and his eyes say it's yours. The song. The apology that's not been said yet.

I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.

His voice cracks again as he sings it. And the hurt part of you says it's just a vocal technique Harry's trained to call on at any time. It doesn't speak to anything other than a creative choice on his part. But the vulnerability is hard to ignore, the low hanging, remorseful unease in the room. He fumbles a string of notes on the piano as he sings and you're hit by the overwhelming need to make him stop.

Witnessing whatever he's currently feeling with this song is more uncomfortable than you've ever been, and a switch in you to protect him flicks on. You look around at his assistant, his manager, trying to see if there's even a hint of anyone else feeling like this moment needs an intervention, needs to be stopped.

The song ends. And you're glad.

Harry takes a few moments on stage to get ready with a guitar for the next song. He doesn't come over to your side of the stage for a drink, or to ask the roadies for anything. Instead, he flies straight into the next section of the set. Seemingly recovered from the heavy moment you felt as though you nearly drowned in. He'd never sung about you before.

Nothing remotely personal about your relationship ever left Harry's house.

And you find yourself wishing it would all just go back there.

The sixth lie was that he wouldn't break your heart.

Harry did though.

He broke your whole life.

So when he comes off stage at the end of his gig, there's little in you that wants to hang around. As soon as the lights go down and you see Harry's silhouette cross the back of the stage and hop down the stairs to the floor, your gut churns, and you wish you were one of the people in the rest of the venue. The ones now turning and slowly filing out of the building. Going back to their lives peacefully.

Instead, you're ushered behind the curtain again, into the small area that's immediately buzzing with life. You watch Harry as if he's moving in slow motion though. As soon as his boots hit the concrete floor somebody is tugging the suit jacket from his shoulders and swapping it for a grey hand towel that he uses to wipe down his face. His hand pushes his hair up over his head as he smiles at a handful of people, and then his eyes find yours. The smile drops, and he takes a steadying breath in.

"Y/N," he says loudly. Straight. Without expression. It's a statement, but also you sense a question there too. As if you might not turn out to be the person who was standing there. He holds your gaze over and through the people walking around and in front of him. He's handed a bottle of water and offered a second one which he takes, "Y/N," he says again, pulling his head back to beckon you over.

You roll your lips together when you've made it to the vacant space in front of him. Harry passes you the extra water bottle and cracks the lid off the one he keeps for himself. You grip yours with both hands but don't make any move to open it. Standing in front of him didn’t feel like you thought it would. It’s less of a kick I in the gut, and more a reinforcing of things that you’d figured out since being without him.

"Hi," he says hesitantly, briefly looking at someone behind your left shoulder. Then, you feel his eyes back on your face.

You speak to his forehead, not ready to have things inside you unlocked by eye contact, "Hello."

"This way," Harry says after a moment, running the towel down his sweaty face again.

He leads you down a hallway, wiping his face on the towel two more times as he walks. Harry continuously looks over his shoulder at you to make sure you're still following him, as if there was somewhere for you to hide in the concrete hallway. When he gets to his dressing room door, he kicks it open and holds his arm out to let you in first. The room smells like his cologne, a whiff of his final moments before going out on stage and a time portal back to mornings you'd spritz it on yourself before leaving the house, it was your scent then too. There was a small sofa and table, a long mirrored table with his laptop open next to a stack of papers, his screen saver bouncing back and white photos across the locked screen. His overnight bag and its contents were sprawled out over the floor in the corner next to where you can see his phone charging.

"You look good," is the first thing he says to you. Trying to pull your attention probably. Maybe hoping to get on the front foot charming you. You could tell him he looked good as well, particularly in the cream suit they had him in tonight, but you were sure there were no shortage of people who already had.

"Your show was good," you deflect away from the personal, eyes tracing the bottles in the corner of the table, "Great setlist."

"Needs a shakeup, if we're honest. Getting stale," Harry shrugs, and you see it in the mirrored wall. He's still standing by the closed door, watching you walk into the centre of the room and take stock of what's around you. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

Harry coughs uncomfortably, "Thanks for coming, wasn't sure you would."

"I wasn't sure either."

You sense Harry realising this conversation was going to be exactly as difficult as feared it might be, he nods his head and moves over to the sofa but doesn't sit down, "Did you want a seat?"

"I'll sit here," you perch yourself on the chair in front of his laptop, crossing one leg over the other and hitching your elbow at the back so you're facing Harry. Keeping the room between you.

Harry sits on the arm of the small, burgundy sofa, and tosses the towel onto the seat next to him, "Looked like you were a little upset there for a moment."

"My boots are new," you quip, kicking your top foot out towards him, "Blisters."

He sighs again, and you start to feel chastised, but there's a more substantial part of you that stubbornly bunkers on down to playing this role, taking power when you'd never had it with Harry before. He knew it wasn’t blisters that had emotion welling up in you during his set. But just the same it wasn’t his place anymore to be privy to your feelings. And you weren’t going to let him gallantly try to take it. You weren’t old friends who could pick up where you left off. You were broken lovers.

"I just thought we could do with talking," Harry says finally.

"You could have uninvited me, you know, I assumed—Well, it's not like I've been expecting to still attend any of your shows the last six months. This one didn't have to be different."

He almost looks hurt, "You live here."

"How was Italy, Harry?” you turn the conversation around abruptly because you didn't like where it was going, and he was starting to frustrate you. You didn’t need him pointing out you lived in this city alone now since he left. As if you didn’t know.

Where watching him on stage hit you with longing and heartbreak, memories you found yourself irrevocably attached to, being in the same room as him now is only making you see the real Harry. The one who's so good at rearranging the energy in the room to make you feel you need to give more of yourself. The one who's an expert at asking a leading question and relying on the other person to be vulnerable first, lead the charge out the gates.

The man who lied to hide you every day for nearly a year, even when it was hurting you more than protecting you. The hurt from him was worse than the invasion of your privacy would have be. The distrust you felt didn't counteract the security you were still afforded by anonymity. The way you felt you still had something to prove—something to earn from him—and that you just needed to earn the right to your place in Harry's life.

"I've missed you," he said finally, "Just …"

"You've been lonely?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"What?" Harry's defences click into place, "No, it's not that—obviously yes, I've been lonely—but also I just—I miss you."

You start nodding, and your gaze drifts around the room, "Yeah, I … What exactly do you miss, Harry? Because—I mean, it was kind of shit, don't you think?"

"Shit?" he looks horrified, "What was shit?"

"Harry," you say simply, telling him to cut the bullshit with your expression. "Come on."

"I loved you," he declares loudly, proudly, “We had a great time together. I don't think it was kind of shit at all."

That's when you feel tears come to your eyes. Of course he didn't think it was shit. He still didn't see where the problem was. Couldn't see it. He would go right back to That Fight and keep going the way you had been if he could. Harry would keep living that life with you, he would have kept on going the same way. You'd still be the secret. A fight about a holiday would have resolved itself with compromise and make-up sex, and you would have gone right back to sneaking out of venues and pretending not to know him in crowded rooms.

Your lips turn up in a smile of sorts as your tears beg to fall but don't, "You haven't changed," you state with a small, incredulous laugh, "You've not figured it out. Nothing's changed," you repeat, shaking your head.

Harry's confusion is plain, and if he thought your tears were because you miss him there's something like a flicker of doubt, as if he's reading what's in front of him again and maybe getting a different story.

"You can't have a life with someone who doesn't want anyone to know you're in their life," you state simply.

And that was it, really. That was the nuts and bolts of it.

The secrecy eroded any meaning your relationship with Harry had. The doubt that cast. The burden on you to continually prove yourself, to audition for the role every day only to never graduate from understudy.

You watch Harry's throat constrict tightly as he thinks about the words that come from his mouth, "I loved you," he repeats, "I didn't want anything outside of us to fuck us up."

"You can't control the world that way, Harry," you're observing him carefully, "You definitely can't control people that way. I get why we started that way, but a year in, Harry? A year."

He looks at his feet, and it's the first bit of remorse you've ever seen him show over it.

"I know you loved me," you keep going, "But you can't use that as some bandaid for the lying, for the hurt that was. You can't erase the consequences because you thought you were protecting me or us or yourself. The truth doesn't cancel out the hurt of the lie."

Harry's still starring at his boots, "You could have said something."

You blink once.

"Fuck you," bursts out before you can stop it, and Harry's eyes snap up to yours, you laugh at his nerve and rise to your feet, "Fuck you, Harry. I couldn't have. I felt like I had to earn it. Like maybe I was one gold star away from getting there. And then when I did push it, you ended it."

"That's not—

"—It is," you insist, shaking your head at him, "You put all your insecurities and shortcomings on me and then had the nerve to tell me you loved me as if I was the defective cog in the wheel. As if you saying you loved me put all the onus on me spoiling it."

"I'm a private person—

You put your hand up to silence him, turning on your heel to face Harry as your pacing halts, "Stop. I don't … I don't care," you breathe out simply, "I really don't. Our relationship wasn't The One. It's one we'll both learn from for the ones that are coming. I hope you learn from it," you add quietly, "Because I have."

"Y/N," Harry says your name like it's an idea he's unsure of.

"That song wasn't about me, was it?" You ask because on stage he said it was about regretting hurting someone and there's been no hint of a 'sorry' from Harry since.

His brow creased, "It is. I am. I wanted you to hear me play it tonight. It's for you."

You smile, the idea that you've grown beyond this situation blooming inside you, "You've not said it."

"What?"

"You haven't said you're sorry," your head shakes again, a fresh wave of your new perfume—the one that's just yours—filling your nose, "You've said you missed me. And that I look good, but you've not said you're sorry. You can put an apology into the song on stage, but you can't admit you were wrong to the person you wrote the song about."

His shoulders sink, just the slightest amount, and you know that you've seen enough. You've said enough. He's not going to have an epiphany on this, not in this conversation with you. You've gone as far as you can with this. As far as you're willing to.

"I'm going to go," you take a step forward, "Thanks for the song, your voice sounded really nice on it."

And you walk passed him with just a final wave and the slightest touch to his shoulder. He doesn't move from his seated position, but his neck cranes and he watches you leave. Eyes hunting your back for answers, like the manuscript for what just happened might show up there. But it doesn't, and you slip out the door, the clip from your shoes fading from his hearing quicker than he wanted it to.

Your insides are shaking by the time you make it out onto the street. No part of you wants to turn back and look up at his name in lights again. You're done with seeing the best of everything in him. Harry's one of the shitty boyfriends you'll tell someone about one day in the future, and they'll call him a dickhead with anger dripping from their tongue, promising to never treat you the same way.

And they won't.

You'll both have bumped and bruised your way into each other's lives, and there'll be a satisfying click with them there wasn't with anyone else. You'll have journeyed through all the maybes and not-quites, and you'll land in that forever place with the person who wears the badge of Yours with a fervour nobody before them has.

And Harry … You'll go and be Nothing to Him.

My inbox is here

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uglypastels · 4 years ago

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To the Beat - Headcanons

(a/n) right, so here are just some headcanons/vague ideas of how i imagined the band play their songs. Either at the specific concert or in general in the future once they had grown more comfortable on stage and a bigger fanbase etc.

Also, I have no idea if this makes sense but I had all these ideas in my head that i needed to get out and on to “paper”, so i thought then why not just share it :)

Read part 1 here <---> part 2 here

If you want any other hc about the band :) just send an ask. cause this might be my new favorite au and i would love to do some further world building lmao.

The Band setlist

headcanons below cut

MR BRIGHTSIDE (The Killers)

So, Harrison starts playing on the guitar, and then the drums follow after a few beats just like in the original. Harrison sings the first verse, but Harry comes in with the harmonies in the lines like “gotta gotta be down” and “How did I end up like this?”

Then I feel like there could be more harmonies in the pre-chorus, but the chorus itself is sung by Haz, with Tom and Harry doing like matching back up vocals (ooohs and stuff like that).

The second verse is sung by Harry, with harmonies done by Haz. Then at the line with the pre-echo of “(it was only a kiss) It was only a kiss” Tom is the one to say it. -

(sidenote, i feel, like if they performed it more, he would get more confidence into and would start improvising shit that would totally not match the song and harry would either go along with it or just ignore him. Either way, funny shit.)

Harry would sing most of the second pre-chorus, but the other two would join him in the last line “and taking control”. Then Harrison sings the final chorus. And Tom would do the echoes the song ends on (the repeated “I never”s)

THE INVISIBLE MAN (Queen)

Harrison sings most of it, but like, really close to the microphone, so he doesn’t have to sing it very loudly.

You just know Harry is having the time of his life during this song with the bass. Especially after the intro and there is that part of just bass and drums. Tom and Harry love it.

(also Tom does the adlibs through the verses and he shouts something randoms, but not through the mic, just into the void lol we love our adlib king)

Then during the chorus, Tom and Harry whisper-sing “I’m the invisible man”

So the bridge is a bit more aggressive so Harry would sing that, headbanging like crazy when given the time.

The guitar solo… honestly, I don’t know what to say about that without becoming a puddle. K byeee.

Basically they would go all out and be super extra, making Freddie Mercuy proud.

YOU OUGHTA KNOW (Alanis Morissette)

So, this is Tom’s song. It starts off with a snare drum and he sings softly, but angry just like Alanis. And the rhythm just fits considering he would also have to drum. Then the second part of the verse, he gets louder.

Haz and Harry do the pre-chorus in harmonies, with Tom shouting out the No in “To be open wide, no” Then the last two lines are for Harry (“ ‘til you died, until you died, but you’re still alive!”) and he shouts them out to transition into the chorus which he also sings.

Then then the second verse is also sung by Tom. It basically follows the same formula as the first part.

After the second chorus, there is that kind of echo which Haz sings. The bridge is Tom’s part again. Harry sings the last two choruses again but then the last “you, you, you oughta know” is sung much softer for the DRAMA.

ARE YOU GONNA BE MY GIRL (Jet)

The cough. You know that one of them would do the cough. But never at the right moment though.

This is another song that Harry loves to perform because its super bass… based, so he grabs at at the attention and gets super extra at the intro. Tom would just be vibing at the beat really. Then the guitar riff comes in and everyone just *swoons* and Harry comes in with the WhOO!

Harrison also goes all out, playing to the audience, but then for every line he would lean into the microphone, really close and then jump off it to the back, just to come back in at the next line. I don’t know how to describe but.. That. And he would change his tone where it fits so in the second line of “say you look so fine, that I really wanna make you mine” he would end it all husky probably. And he would most definitely try to spot someone hot in the crowd and sing the next line to them with a wink (Now you don't need the money/When you look like that, do ya honey?) and his voice would go all deep and oof yeah. Just sex all around for him, really.

Harry would finish off the pre-chorus and shout his way through the chorus like the energetic weirdo that he is (how he still has a voice at the end of it all is large mystery).

Then the drum stops for Tom to catch a moment, not that he really needs it, and he says the “Are you gonna be my girl?” and then I die basically.

And then after the second chorus, the guitar starts and Tom stands up to clap, letting the audience to follow. And (hopefully) they continue with it through the rest of the song.

BREAK MY HEART (Dua Lipa, cover version of HEY LIFE)

The song would either start with a bass actually or a guitar that is a bit higher than the one in the playlist i set. They wouldn’t play it as metal-y. Harrison sings, holding on to that mic Harry is living his life with the bass.

Then they all sing the first half of the pre-chorus in harmonies and it sounds amazing. The other half is for Harrison.

The first few lines of the chorus “I would've stayed at home/'Cause I was doin' better alone/But when you said, "Hello"/I know that was the end of it all” is like an acapella monotone singing… I don’t know music terms okay, deal it with <3 but then they repeat it with the instruments and harmonies.

It all kind of repeats itself in the same formula, I think. Then there’s a bit of a solo at the end of the second??? chorus so that would go to Harrison. And the bridge they’d sing together again. And there are some like background lines?? That would probably be Harry :) why did I make him the loud chaotic one?? I have no idea but try and tell me that I’m wrong. He’d go through like 6 bottles of water cause ya boy’s gotta STAY HYDRATED

MISS YOU (The Rolling Stones)

Right, so like in the fic, audience participation in the best way possible. They teach the crowd what to sing and how to sing it. So the ooohs and yadda yadda at the intro and through the rest of the song. It has a fucking great beat too so everyone is just VIBING to it and it’s a party. Harrison is doing his best with his cursive™ singing lol. No one really understands what he’s saying but we’re here for it. Then Harry signs towards the crowd to sing and its loud and amazing and the connection!!

Then later on tom and harry to the back up vocals again and it just sounds like two little angels.

There is a part where it’s kind of slam poetry lol, about walking in central park or something (idk the song that well oops) anyway, that part is Harry’s.

The saxophone solos are obviously changed into a guitar solo, or a bass, or drum, whichever guy is quicker each show. Then the crowd joins in again cause they can’t help it and that little ooooh/aaaah will be stuck in everyones head for the rest of the week (just like it happened to me after i went to the Rolling Stones concert, people were still singing it in the train on the way home and that is exactly the vibe we are going for here)

WILDFLOWER (5 Seconds of Summer)

So it’s been established that these boys do nothing but exude sex through their entire performance and this song is no exception. They start of very sweet with the wild-wildflower but from their, straight into the sin bin. Harrison is singing

(ngl i did base him a lot on Luke Hemmings in this fic so I just had to put in a 5SOS song- even though calum sings it but do not ruin this for me OKAY)

In the meantime, Tom is clapping along, getting the crowd to do it, though he has to make sure the people actually stay in rhythm so it doesn’t fuck up the song. Then in the pre-chorus its Tom and Harry as back-up, still for Harrison to take the lead. Until the last sentence where its Harry coming in with the “I know where tonight is going!”

But here’s the thing. The song goes “You're the only one who makes me- Every time we-” and then there’s the added “Tell you what I like” which Tom is SUPPOSED to sing, but as we have established, he’s a little shit and he loves to mess around, so he would shout out weird stuff out when he got the chance, but if he couldn’t think of it, then he’d at least take it to the stage to finish Haz’ sentence. So when he sings “You’re the only one who makes me-” Tom nicely finished is it and shouts “HARD”

Also I think Harry would be bopping around with his bass to the drum, cause how can you not.

SEVEN NATION ARMY (The White Stripes)

Right so here is Harrison, aka our cursive singing king, thriving. The first part of the song doesn’t even use guitar so he’s just at the microphone chilling, most definitely brushing his fingers through his hair, maybe rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Does he need to do it? No, but who minds it? Exactly, nobody.

But then when the guitar does finally start he is oFFFFF. Putting so much into it.

Tom also most definitely goes far and beyond drumming to this. it’s a simple beat but he just drums with all his body. At the begining of every verse, where its just the bass drum, you can see him step on that fucking pedal.

and then he adds on the other drum (idk terms, let me be) but he moves his head to each beat and he hits it fucking hard okay, so MUSCLE uhum uhum, yeah.

And there’s another classic bassline in here so Harry is thriving like any time he gets to shine <3

CALIFORNICATION (Red Hot Chili Peppers)

So this was a slower song to kind of level all the songs that had been super energetic.

It’s simply the moment where all of them can relax a bit. maybe some of the audience will turn on their flashlights. Not that the song really needs that, but its fun, so why not.

Harrison is at it again with the cursive, tho not as much here. He also plays around at the end of the verses, lengthening the notes and stuff. idk, making it fancy

They put in more distinct harmonies at the chorus “Dream of Californication”

then there are the back up Ooooh’s in the other verses. love those.

they might cut the song short, stopping before the last verse, just where its the soft guitar plating and they faded out and its time for another break :)

CHELSEA DAGGER (The Fratellis)

So they don’t actually play this song. It was something that came accidentally. They probably don’t even know the name of the song. But its just one of those things that everyone kinda knows. So during a break one of the 3 is fucking around on their instrument and the other two join in, still clueless, and suddenly its the crowd that does the dudududud’s and there ya go, Chelsea Dagger. Just a little quickie to get everyone pumped up again after a slower song.

SEX ON FIRE (Kings of Leon)

Harrison’s cursive singing strikes again, but at this point we’re all living for it. It’s also the song where he’s a bit louder and gets up there together with Harry’s voice lol.

Then Tom sings the chorus, since this is all my self indulgence and I want him to sing the words “your sex is on fire” over and over again. sue me.

But like, he tenses up when he sings, getting it in that right emotional range, and he’s still drumming and it’s all very very hot.

maybe the light technicians set the lights on red or orange <3

MISS ALISSA (Eagles of Death Metal)

Here’s my idea: they all had a veto on picking one song each for the set list and the rest had to be voted on together

(Harrison’s would be ---- and Tom’s would be You Oughta Know, cause he angsty like that sometimes).

Harry picked this song simply because its fucking fast and it was a struggle for the other two lol. It’s basically just drums and guitar so Harry is singing and clapping, with his bass on his back, while tom is basically dying from this repeated beat, playing it nonstop for 3 minutes straight while his fucking brother is jumping around on stage.

And the ‘you aint dancing’ at the end is definitely directed at Tom.

To which Tom would nicely respond with flipping his brother off :)

RUBY (Kaiser Chief)

My sweet baby angels they start with the tadata’s together

And Harry sings the verse and the chorus, with Tom and Haz doing the back up vocals.

Cause he sings the most of this song, he sometimes slacks with the bass, just letting it go all together, to hold on to the mic (or taking it with him and dancing around the stage during the chorus)

and during the bridge he could very well bend down to sing to the audience directly

so the people *swoon* once again

and he would be deep in eye contact with someone for that bridge, just for the chorus to start again and he’d jump up and be all bouncy again. we love variety

in short, this concert would not be good for my heart

STAR GIRL (McFly)

The only real reason why the chose this song is cause they’re 12 year old boys and the lines of the second verse made them laugh (there’s nothing on Earth that can save us, when i fell in love with Uranus) and i mean, who can blame them. But its also just a really fun song that the crowd can easily join into as well - gotta love the whoohoo-oooo’s .

And speaking of, after the bridge and trumpet/in this case guitar solo, there’s a few counts of silence. You can bet that the audience misses it by like half a beat which the boys enjoy immensely. Sometimes they would even go out of their way to make the pause even longer to mess with people.

But basically, the do end up loving this song, especially Tom and Harry. they have possibly argued about who sings which part, so they end up just switching through shows (tho Harry gets to do the bridge, since he has the loudest voice<3)

COME TOGETHER (The Beatles)

They specifically chose this song to finish the show off with.

cause it really brings everyone together.

they might sing it a bit differently though, maybe more like Aerosmith

(they tried Gary Clark Jr.’s version but they felt like they couldn’t do it as big as he did it)

they definitely fool the crowd to when to sing Come Together or not, very anticlamactic and all but it won’t make anyone love them any less.

but once they do sing it, Chilssss

and they do each a verse, so first Harrison, then Harry, and finally Tom. and they all finish their own verse very dramatic in their own little ways.

Harrison barely understandable, but very dramatic

Harry basically screams it out

and Tom is just SEX™

and then they finish the show off with extended solo’s and I cry again

idk if i should tag people, since no one asked for this, but i’m doing it

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @spiderrrling @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @duskholland @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @captainpeggy40 @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @starkeybabie @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @perspectiveparker @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @spidey-reids-2003 @fallinfortom @chloecreatesfictions @londonspidey @hollandcreep @inlovewithmobtom @hypnotized-so-mesmerized

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #harry holland #band!au #fanfic #fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harry holland fanfiction #drummer!tom #guitarist!harrison #bassist!harry #headcanon #this could have just been the fic #but instead i went out of my way and wrote 17k #including like 8k smut #fml

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onestowatch · 3 years ago

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Your Grandparents Manifest a Cinematic, Soulful Debut Album With ‘Thru My Window’ [Q&A]

Photo: Jordan Perez

Inspired by everything from ‘90s boom bap artists like Digable Planets and the Pharcyde to modern funk legends like Outkast and D'Angelo, Your Grandparents have quickly proven themselves to be their generations' torchbearers for the psychedelic soul movement.

Using a variety of recording techniques to get the desired effect for their genre-blending debut album Thru My Window, the group credits their uniquely cohesive sound to their years-long friendship, which began in their early teens. With their lush grooves, breezy, clear vocals, a sonic aesthetic built on unwavering authenticity, and of course, a deep love for their roots and deep musical traditions passed down from their grandparents, Your Grandparents embodies what it means to be an artist to watch.

Ones To Watch had a chance to talk with the trio, comprised of DaCosta (vocals), Jean Carter (vocals), and Cole, aka ghettoblasterman (producer), to discuss their inspirations and the long days and nights that went into creating their debut album.

When you last spoke to Ones To Watch, it was for the release of your single "So Damn Fly," and now, a year later, here we are talking about the release of your debut album, Thru My Window. How are you all feeling, and what have you learned about yourselves in this last year through the album-making process?

DaCosta: From a personal outlook, I've learned that making music is heavily dependent on my mood, or just how I'm feeling and what's going on in my personal life. When things are a little too stagnant, it's a little harder to write. On the other hand, when things are flowing, and life is being lived, it's easy fuel. It's good fuel. It doesn't burn too quickly.

GBM: I've learned that no idea is too wild. It's usually less wild than I think it is.

Jean: Yeah, it's better to start at the extreme and take away. I realized I feel like a lot of artists feel like they have to put themselves through turmoil or allow certain situations to write meaningful things. Like it's not necessarily good music, but it's something that means a lot to them. I think I realized that that's not the case and inspiration comes in many different forms. It could be a person or something completely random and inanimate that makes you feel something.

What were some of those inspirations?

Jean: Definitely films.

GBM: A lot of films!

Jean: Yeah, we're all pretty big film people. We do all our own videos pretty much, and it just comes from this love of film that we've had that got nurtured in high school. We were blessed enough to have a really dope film program that Sony funded and stuff, and so we got like an impromptu film education before we graduated. So by the time we graduated, we knew how to get our own projects done without reaching out to someone else and then taxing us because they want to hire their friends and all that stuff. So because of that, we had complete creative control. I've also been watching a lot of Korean movies lately. Not during the album—wait, actually, during the album, there were a lot of old kung fu movies and blaxploitation movies from, like, the ‘70s. Also, my friend got me this Curtis Mayfield record, and "So Damn Fly" is definitely heavily influenced by that whole record.

GBM: I feel like the ‘70s in general, the ‘60s and ‘70s, definitely had a big inspiration on the aesthetic and the kind of sound we were going after. Especially with "So Damn Fly" and "Tomorrow" and those kinds of songs.

Do you feel like this album has a linear story the same way a film does, or do you feel like it's more of an anthology of the band's personal experiences?

GBM: It's kind of a mix of both.

Jean: Yeah, it started off as an anthology, and then we pieced together the story, which was largely done by Cole by sitting there and being like, “Hmmm.”

DaCosta: Yeah, it was a lot of Cole dissecting the words and putting them on the tracks.

Jean: When we're writing the words and trying to be free-flowing and expressive and stuff, we're not fully conscious of a bigger picture situation. Instead, Cole is sitting there producing everything and putting in the music and being just more of a listener than anyone else could. So he has the context, and he could find a story that we didn't know we were doing together with our three minds and in our three different lives.

GBM: It's like a puzzle almost, because I'll be sitting there at like 2 a.m. in my bed, listening to the songs, and I'm like, "Ok, Kyle said, that in the hook, so this song has to go before that," and so on and so forth. It's like a storyboard kinda.

Right, to keep the record's "plot" cohesive and self-referential.

GBM: Another big consideration was playlists. I love making playlists, and I know Kyle loves making playlists, too, so it needed to flow. It just has to flow. We didn't want songs that juxtapose each other or have opposite vibes be back to back.

DaCosta: Yeah, I think we even switched around the playlist a couple of times before we had it set in stone.

GBM: There were like fourteen songs originally, and then we got talked down to ten.

Jean: Fourteen tracks woulda went crazy!

I'm sure fans would love a deluxe version of the album at some point! So what were some of the rough draft ideas before you set these ten tracks in stone?

Jean: There were more modern-sounding tracks. The more time we spent on a project, and this being our debut, we wanted to be true to the name. We wanted to be true to the artistry that had gotten us to this point.

DaCosta: There were a couple of heavier hip-hop tracks there too.

Jean: We had been doing that, and a lot of people haven't even heard those because they're like heavy hip-hop stuff from when we were in high school and like early college.

Were there any tracks on the record that challenged you?

Jean: "Intoxicated" challenged me. I had a whole different verse. The conception of that song—I was just venting about whatever I was going through at the time, and one of my homies was like, "It's not sexy enough!" So I was just like, "What? No! I've done sexy stuff on all the other songs. Just let me vent!" So I tried another verse, and we ended up going with that one instead.

DaCosta: I mean, it worked out great though...

Jean: I mean, yeah, it sits nicely on the song, and now I have a verse for something else one day when it's time for it.

GBM: Yeah, that song went from being all of ours and everyone on our team's favorite song to our least favorite song. I will say that recording the instruments for the album was fun, but there were definitely some long hours. We had a drummer and bassist come through, and they played for like twelve hours straight doing all the songs. So the songs that have live drums on them were all done in that one day, and they even did songs we recorded that didn't make it on the final record. I think we started at 1 p.m. and we ended at 1 a.m. It was crazy.

What song are you most excited for people to hear when the album drops?

Jean: I think people are gonna like "Comfortable" a lot. Honestly, I haven't listened to the record in a while because it's existed in our world for a minute. We had just posted the visuals for that song today, and I was feelin it.

DaCosta: I think people are gonna really like "Digest." For me, it gives me that "it" factor.

GBM: I think "Red Room." It's my personal favorite and one of the more fun ones to me. It's just a good time!

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You mentioned earlier that you try to maintain creative control when making your music videos and coming up with concepts for visualizers. What is your creative process like?

DaCosta: We definitely sit down, and we go through everything from storyboard to shotlist and just take and grab inspiration from all over the place. For "So Damn Fly," there was that That 70's Show shot where they're all sitting around the table, and it's spinning. So there are all types of really cool influences, and we just try to use those and make everything unique to us.

GBM: I think we kind of go through a three-step verification. The idea has to go through all three of us before it becomes something else or moves on to actually being tested out or put into picture. So that kind of attributes to the very solid identity we aim for.

It sounds like that impromptu film education you mentioned earlier has really set you up for success in creating your videos.

Jean: Yeah. My high school film teacher, Miss Butler, I took that class for two years, and then when I couldn't take it anymore, I became a TA. So then I took the after-school class, and I just spent hella hours pretty much ruining the way I enjoyed cinema and teaching myself like—she would have us look and watch these classic movies and be like, this is what they did wrong.

Can you give me an example of a classic film you would watch and critique?

Jean: The first one that comes to mind is Rear Window. I watched it a few times, just because I had taken the class a couple of times. She talked about how the set that they made and the world that they created, they had full control over. Just seeing older films and how simple things were a lot more complicated then. Like you can't just delete a take and wipe your card. Everything had to be so planned out and so intentional. You gotta do shit on purpose. It's just a lot of thinking and planning, and sometimes, I feel like it's more challenging to have more people involved in a film production sometimes because of the growing degrees of communication. With the small groups that we usually keep, everyone's on the same page as us. All of us took this same class, so we all have a similar workflow.

DaCosta: Yeah, our organization when it comes to films, we're all pretty much on the same page. You know, with what was going to happen, who's doing what, who's in charge of what, etc.

Jean: And pre-production is the biggest thing and finding the right team because we can't shoot it and be in it. Although Cole can somehow!

GBM: I'm in one scene, and I'm like, "I'm just gonna kill this scene right now, and then I'm gonna jump back." That's why I'm only in the last scene.

Because he's doing everything else!

Jean: Yeah! Then as soon as the scene cuts, it's like, I go back to directing people, and Kyle goes back to making sure we got the next shot set up.

GBM: There were only seven people on set.

DaCosta: And four out of seven were crew members

GBM: Yeah, the DP was the only person that wasn't actually a casted character. Everybody else is like multitasking.

You'll be making your first-ever festival appearance at Day N Vegas in November. How are y'all feeling about it?

GBM: It feels incredible!

DaCosta: I'm so so excited!

Jean: If I get excited, I get nervous. So I just aim to be focused, or I don't think about it at all.

After the release of Thru My Window, what are some long-term or short-term goals y'all are manifesting?

Jean: I think for the next album, I want it to get Best Rap Album. We went R&B on this one, but nobody knows the way that we—like yes, we rap on it, but nobody knows our actual rap potential. So I feel like that's something that needs to be lived out on the next project. It's been a minute since we were rapping, bro. There are cool people out here doing the rap thing right now, but not many people have impressed me.

GBM: I kind of want this album to open up the door to doing a lot of travel. When we got back from Paris in 2019, what we experienced during that summer gave us fuel to start this project. So I feel like if we just keep that kind of like tradition going, we just travel somewhere and just make stuff, I think it'll never get steered wrong.

DaCosta: I think I want the album to just open up doors in general. I know it's kind of a broad thing, but like, we're so diverse, and between the three of us, we can do literally anything I think in the world if we put our minds to it, and we kind of plan on doing everything that we want to do. So, I kind of want this album to open the door just so that we can you can start striding towards whatever, whether it's directing movies and videos and fucking scoring—

Jean: Or directing other people's videos!

DaCosta: Yeah, all types of shit.

Thru My Window is available everywhere you can stream it.

#your grandparents #album review #interview #thru my window

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mountainmusicgroup · 3 years ago

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Managing your Music - Part one

Defining your sound

At MMG we like to teach people how to manage themselves, but we appreciate that sometimes depending on each individual’s situation a Manager might be the answer!

Who knows? Every Artist or band is different.

We have created a series of blogs to help you with a few ‘Beginner Level’ considerations before you tread any further down your musical path. You need to have this stuff down, regardless!

WHERE WE START : Know who you are artistically

This isn’t about pigeon holing your sound…it’s about creating a way to tell someone who doesn’t know you (or your music) where you sit.

Imagine that a busy executive doesn’t have the time to delve into every tiny detail or contradiction from you about what you do. They want to know instantly where to place you and if you are worth a punt. They might not want to develop you, they might want you ready.

Hopefully a potential manager will listen to your music, and find that it clicks!

If you know what you are, and communicate this effectively, then they will understand where you are coming from, and they should know the trends and the industry well enough to be able to push you in the right direction.

The best way to start this is to create the dreaded ‘Elevator Pitch’.

If you got into an elevator (or a ‘lift’ to us Brits) with a big cheese of the music world and you had to describe your music to them before they exit in a few floors time….what would you say?!

Usually when presented with this question in real life, the answer is

“Well, it’s kind of a bit (Insert generic term) but a bit more (Insert generic term)”

I am really sorry to let you know that any vagueness doesn’t cut it.

This watery response is yawn-generating to anyone that listens to new music day in day out. They want you to know what you are and sell it to them, at the click of a finger.

Even if that means you are simply good old fashioned classic rock or avant-garde post punk theatrical ska.

When put on the spot about something so personal to you, it can be very hard to sum it up. Think it as a verbal way to get a foot in the door…will they think of you later with intrigue?

Or will they think there is a gap for you in the market at this time?

You don’t know what a manager, or a booker, or a casting director, or in fact anyone that hires musicians is looking for, so stop double guessing and aim to be unashamedly you.

Most things have been done before so the first rule is to know you haven’t invented the wheel.

But YOUR sound and what you do is UNIQUE.

It is unique to you and that is where the magic happens. Find what that spark is… and then you are on the road to creating music that is authentically you, and someone somewhere in the world will love it, relate to it, and buy it.

I have held many workshops, lectures and seminars in the power of defining your sound.

I work with the participants to define their sound on their terms, and then we listen to their music and make the necessary changes.

I have lost count of the times being told a band is Indie Rock, to find they are in fact more pop based. How we view our music might not be coming across to the outside world….and those are the customers in a business sense, so we need to always look from another perspective (which isn’t always natural!).

There are a few rules that you need to get your head around if you haven’t already.

Being commercial isn’t selling out.

How you view your music is a personal choice, and the important question of ‘why?’ raises its head. Do you want to sell your music or just make it for fun? If you want to be recognised and sell records and get booked for gigs and perform your songs then being commercial needs to come in somewhere. Don’t associate commercial with cheesy pop or novelty records.

Alternative to what?

In my seminars I ban the word ‘Alternative’ unless its backed up with more detail.

One session I had four bands in a row describe themselves as alternative.

My response : “So, you are all alternative? So there is nothing different about you, because you are all the same?”

When we listened to them perform later it turns out one was alternative folk, one was indie pop, one was alt-jazz and one was actually simply hard rock. VERY different sounds when compared with each other.

Alternative tells us nothing without the second part.

If you feel that you are alternative then tell us what you are an alternative to.

I realised that young bands want so desperately to be different. And that is a good thing.

But giving yourself a quirky elevator pitch might be misleading.

You are what you are - own it.

Indie = Independent

Does that say anything about your sound? (Another banned word if not)

It may do…I can write a whole book on the characteristics of singing Indie (it’s fascinating), and there is more to the style than maybe meets the eye. But when defining your sound this may or may not be vague, so use Indie with caution.

If you are an unpolished band and sing in your accent - then maybe you are straight up Indie, but like the word alternative, it’s helpful at these initial stages to back it up.

Remember this is not about putting yourself in a pigeon hole.

Of course you must evolve and experiment.

Nothing is set in stone, but if you only get that one chance then don’t mess it up by being vague, taking ten minutes explaining what your music is like, with the recipient walking away confused and being none the wiser, is not going to help you progress.

Now, about that elevator pitch. Keep it short and snappy.

I know many bands that have agonised over the elevator pitch. Don’t overthink it, just remember you want to keep it concise yet memorable.

There are many sub-genres that come into play.

Do you feel that you are in-between two genres? Put them together and what do you get?

Who are you influenced by musically? Do they bolt on and alter the description of your sound?

Research the genre you think you might be, and listen to some other artists because you might find that you have described yourself as Indie Rock yet you are in fact Noise pop. Or traditional RnB not necessarily Neo-soul.

And don’t be afraid to say you are just simply good old fashioned pop.

Or that you are just a really tight soul band.

Or experimental jazz.

We all need music whether it’s in it’s purest form or something off the wall.

With Spotify playlists skewing the younger generation’s genre knowledge, please don’t describe your music in the form of a playlist title. Calling yourself ‘Coffee morning’ or ‘Sunday Vibes’ means nothing. I write this as I have witnessed this in the past year.

Remember most people that are in a position to network and manage or help you, are ‘likely’ to be older. You might need to have a description for you and a description for the older folk.

IF you need help working out what the bloomin’ heck you are now, then feel free to post a link to your music here or get in touch via our website and we will help you.

Once you have found your sound, keep an eye out for the next part in this series where we will look at your artistic persona and what a manager may ask of you in an initial meeting.

Don't forget to follow us on Social Media and keep in touch about your music!

www.mountainmusicgroup.com

[email protected]

Insta: @mountain_music_group

#music #artistdevelopment #advice #unsignedartist #unsignedbands #definingyoursound #industryadvice #musicconsultant

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sorasfishing · 4 years ago

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#Noctislistening - Yamato Edition (2 of 12)

In which I ramble about songs that the Chosen Children/Digidestined listen to.

#noctislistening digidestined series for more

Brought to you by @earlgreymon‘s Digidestined FM and @tangledupblue‘s Digidestined-inspired playlists. Go listen right now!!

It may take me longer to post these due to general life things, a certain ship week coming up and also Kizuna right around the corner. But listening to music old and new(to me) has been a lot of fun (and also helps with my current stress and anxiety levels lately).

Last time, we worked out with Taichi (#1). Coming up next, we’ll be dancing with Miyako (#3)!

It’s Yamato’s turn. Hearts in my eyes. All you need to know is that this boy ROCKS.

First things first: Hi, I go by Noct around here, but my real name is Julia. It’s nice to meet you! <3

(you will understand why I “introduced” myself to you later as you go through this post)

Digidestined FM (Yamato version) @earlgreymon

Sky, I have to say that the “chosen” song (and band alone) really fits the aesthetic for Yamato in this playlist edit. The hair gel and leather jacket and the color scheme with the album cover. It’s just so fitting!

I’ve been meaning to listen to The 1975 more because I do like their sound. So I felt as I did listening to “Heart Out” :)

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However, my favorite song of theirs probably has to be “Chocolate”.

Yamato’s “playlist” (with quotes because as you said, he doesn’t use playlists) has a lot of legendary classic rock bands. As part of my own inspired playlist, I listened to “Stairway to Heaven” for Led Zeppelin since I don’t normally listen to them. Same for Radiohead, but I do like a few of their songs, like “High and Dry” and “Creep”.

Now, I don’t listen to a lot of Pink Floyd, either, but I think it’s worth mentioning a song that I absolutely love from them, “Julia Dream”.

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Yessss. Now you know why I introduced myself. ~curtsies~

Yamato also listens to Queen. I started listening to their music in college and fell in love with Freddie Mercury’s voice. I would have loved to see them live. The closest was the Queen musical called We Will Rock You. But sometimes I dream about being born decades earlier or going back in time to see them play live.

I don’t have a favorite song from them. Maybe “Don’t Stop Me Now” or “We Are The Champions”. :)

Finally, John Mayer. I will listen through all of his music. His voice and his sound is pretty chill, but his guitar solos are so good.

I’ll just name “No Such Thing” just to go old school. :D

~*~*~*~*~*~

Angsty drama lone wolf @tangledupblue

The title is so him! A boy with a love for guitar-driven sounds, but some vocalists being broody and wailing as they express feelings about the world around him and also the emotional desires similar to his own. (This and probably my other blurbs are probably overanalytical and indulgent but I’m having fun reading between the lines XD)

I tried to choose my favorite 6 - I made this list a few days ago but I came back to it and now I want to change it lol. Just know that I’m listing songs but I love the rest of the songs, too! Just to name some of the artists I like: The Script, The Killers, Muse, Fall Out Boy (among the ones I’ve talked about already!) I also love Alicia Keys and I think it’s awesome that she collaborated with Jack White!!

Matchbox Twenty - Mad Season // so 90′s pop/rock with angst, I love it. I never listened to their albums in full but always liked the songs that were on the radio. I will include their video here, feeling nostalgic today.

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~*~*~*~*~*~

Arctics Monkey - Do I Wanna Know?

Thirty Seconds to Mars - This Is War // I had a plot bunny with this. Like an intense battle against Digimon (set in tri.)

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The Beatles - Come Together

I’ve always been a huge fan of The Beatles. I remember going to a school dance in high school and didn’t really feel like dancing. Then one of their songs came on and it felt like an awakening to my musical tastes lol.

Anyway, I will pause here to mention another great song by this band. What is it called? “Julia”.

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~curtsies again~

Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out

The Rolling Stones - (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction

~*~*~*~*~*~

Are you listening? Which ones are you rocking out to? Please tell me your favorites!

#ishida yamato #matt ishida #digimon headcanons #noctislistening digidestined series

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foolishlovebugbaby · 5 years ago

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skz’s reaction to their s/o being a classical musician

requested by @wxnterlee!! i hope you like it, sorry it took so long hkjdhfkhsg <33

bang chan

The first time he’s introduced to you is at a busking event at a christmas market

It’s the holiday season, so skz being skz they wanted to really feel that christmas spirit

But as they’re strolling, they reach this live band playing christmas tunes

And usually those mellow, low-key songs would play around this time of year but this band was anything but that

It was lively and every synonym for jolly

And as he scans the band, his eyes finally land on you

You’re playing the saxophone with so much energy and really feeling the music that his eyes are just so drawn to you

He can’t explain it, but he can’t take his eyes off of you

It doesn’t help that you’re extremely attractive either

His eyes never leave you through the entirety of the performance, and you definitely take notice

Mans is as subtle as a gun lmao

You make it a point to smile at him directly after the first set of performances because ure cheeky like that, and you immediately see him flush in the cold

So now he frequents the market and always makes sure to catch at least one performance of yours

But then one day you approach him and chan internally yells because he’s in a hetero panic

But then he chills out because you’re so warm and inviting and you both get to know each other slowly

Needless to say, the rest was history

As a boyfriend, chan is your number 1 hype man

And i mean Hype Man

He always makes it a point to watch your performances whenever he can

Esp whenever you have big recitals that get you all nervous, he’s always there no matter what to cheer you on and give you a pep talk and take you out for a celebration dinner afterwards

And he loves the way you light up when you play

The sheer passion in the way you perform and in everything you do in general makes him fall so deeply in love with you each time

He’s also a clown and never fails to try and attempt to play the saxophone whenever you have it with you

He fails miserably, but he’s cute and you love him more than anything else :’)

lee know

Knowing the crackhead he is, the only reason why he was able to meet you was because instead of booking a cinema ticket for frozen 2, he booked a musical titled Frozen II

The show had nothing to do with badass sisters and magical talking stones (it was some winter musical or sumn, minho wasn’t sure), and the moment he realised this, he was all pouty

But then he scanned over the orchestra and thought that for once his dumbass worked with him and not against him

Because there you sat, looking as ethereal as ever, playing the harp

He swore up and down you were a goddess

Like, hera or aphrodite’s reincarnate

The only magic he saw that night was you, and he was more than happy about that

He tried his hardest to meet you, to tell you what an amazing job you did, but alas, he couldn’t reach you because visitors weren’t allowed to go backstage

So he got all sulky and :(( as he exited the theatre

But by a miracle, as he was walking back to his car, he saw a certain someone struggling with bags and equipment of all sorts as they walked out of the back entrance, and minho’s heart skipped a beat when he realised it was you

Of course he rushes to help you bea=cause chivalry

And he makes it a point to compliment you and make small talk as he helps you to your car

As fate would have it, the two of you become good acquaintances, then close friends, and even closer more-than-friends until you finally had the guts to just ask him to be your boyfriend and you don’t even take a breath before he says yes

Minho as a bf is minho as a bff but on lsd i swear to god

He already goes to majority of your performances, but when that boy is cuffed jesus christ he makes sure he’s in the front row for every damn performance no matter how small

You’re his harp-playing goddess who walked straight out of eden in his eyes, how could he not???

He’s also humorously afraid to go near your harp because he knows the moment he’s within arms length from it, something will go wrong

Being the weirdo he is he always finds a way of personifying your harp and whining about how you spend much more time with it than with him

And you’re like??? And he’s all like :(((

So you just have to give him a cuddle and boop

Ugh what a cutie

changbin

Dark rapper meets classy cello player????

An aesthetic.

Because you both are polar opposites in the music world, the only reason you knew about him is because your mutual friend had dragged you to an underground rap battle (much to your dismay) as a way to “get you out of your shell”

As much as you thought you’d hate it, you really enjoyed yourself

Esp when you laid your eyes on Changbin

Just everything about his aura was so enthralling to you and you so desperately wanted to get to know him and asked your friend to introduce you, but to no avail :((

After that, you didn’t really see him again

But one fateful night, unbeknownst to you, your friend had dragged changbin all the way to your music studio because he was in desperate need of a recording booth as the ones in the company were all occupied

When he entered, what he did not expect was to witness an absolute daydream right before his eyes

You sat inside the booth playing the cello, recording a snippet of a symphony you so desperately needed practice on, and hadn’t noticed them walked in, too concentrated on the music sheet in front of you

But oh god, to say changbin was impressed was an understatement

Dang he thought he produced good music, but the music that you made????

Absolutely magical.

When you ended the piece and looked up, you almost had a heart attack

Literally jumped out of your seat a lil bit because they both were just staring at you

But once you both introduced yourselves, it was like you both were two sides of the same coin

You both grow closer and realise that you really are opposites of each other

But in a good way??? like everything is so complimentary

So you shared your playlist of symphonies and he shared his playlist of lyrical masterpieces and these songs suddenly become the soundtrack to your love story

Ugh he’s such an amazing boyfriend because he helps you with his recordings and vice versa

You’re both super critical of your own work so the pair of you make it a point to remind each other of how good you’re doing

And just being with you opened up this whole new world of music for changbin

He’s so grateful for it that he can’t describe it in words

He even asks you to record small pieces so that he can add them into his music

And you have a habit of turning skz’s and his own music into cello versions

Thank god opposites attract

hyunjin

Mister dancer over here loves going to dance workshops of different types

Hip-hop, contemporary- you name it

So when he signed up for a 2-week modern dance class, he definitely got more than he bargained for

He didn’t know what he was supposed to expect, but goddamnit he did not expect to have his limbs feel like they were falling apart

So after class, when everyone had left, he literally just laid on the floor all sweaty and tired wanting nothing more than to crash n sleep

But then !!

He heard a piano melody echo through the room, a mix of melancholic yet romantic notes floating through the air

And when he lifted his head up to look for the source of the sound, his eyes settled on your figure at the other end of the hall

As it turns out, you were the pianist for this specific studio and for all modern dance productions

You didn’t notice him at all- mostly because the lights were dimmed and mans was too busy dying on the floor to make his presence known

But dear lord did your music make him feel some typa way

He just wanted to dance to it, express himself through it

So once you finished, he just clapped from where he was on the floor without getting up

Think lazy seal on its back

Nevermind the fact that he literally almost made you scream

But you both introduced yourselves properly to one another, and let’s just say that hyunjin started to look forward to his bone-breaking classes a lot more than he would’ve thought

At first it was purely because he thought u were cute and he had a middle school crush on you

But then as the days progressed, he found himself more and more drawn to you and the way you played the piano

Always so concentrated and the expression on your face mimicked the piece you were playing

And agghfhf he loved being able to dance to your melodies

So when his lil 2-week excursion was over, he was all :(((((((((((((x10009283 because he knew he wouldn’t be able to see you as often

So he mustered up all his strength to ask you out on a proper date

Now, when you both become official, dear lord is this man always going to ask you to play something for him

Literally the ABC’s would suffice

He’s just so smitten with you and your love for the piano that he always wants to see you play because it lights up your entire face

And when you compose pieces just for him to dance to, his heart m e l t s

He also always begs you to teach him, but he’s such a flirt that not much teaching goes on lol

It makes me feel loopy imagining hyunjin dance to the melody his s/o plays like do u feel me ohmygod idk what to do w myself

han

Han’s first encounter with you was purely accidental

Like a literal accident

As in, he was just walking down the sidewalk not really paying attention when he ran into you

You, a clumsy violinist who had just exited your apartment complex in a rush to get to your lesson that you were already late for, suddenly found yourself knocked over and on the sidewalk in a daze

Jisung was h o r r i f i e d

He rushed to your aid, helping your disoriented self stand up but

Your fall was the least of your worries

Because there, strewn across the sidewalk, was your life your love your baby

Your violin

You rushed to it and inspected it for any dents and scratches and phew

Thank god your hard case protected it for the most part, save for minor dents and scratches

So you let out a breath and finally face the culprit of your heart palpitations

And suddenly you’re given a different set of heart palpitations because big, round eyes of an extremely, unfairly handsome man looks at you with concern and guilt and you suddenly forget how you ended up there in the first place

Lots of apologies from han’s side and he offers to buy you a drink

But you’re in a rush so you tell him nah

But he’s like pls pls and so you’re like but i have to go and he’s like i’ll wait for u and you’re like O-O o-ok,,,

So he sits awkwardly outside your practice studio, but the moment he hears and sees you play through the glass window, he feels the wind knocked out from his chest

So now he just makes it a point to get to know you by asking you out more and more

Like changbin, when you both become a thing, your relationship revolves so much around your mutual love of music

And he lovesss getting to help you improve and vice versa

And on your one year anniversary he bought you a replacement violin to make up for the one he scratched up during your first meeting and you’re just like :’)))) i would’ve destroyed my violin a thousand times if it meant getting to meet you :’)))))

felix

Like minho, it’s Felix’s sheer crackheadness that allows fate to cause the two of you to meet

Like one day he decides on a whim that he wants to learn the viola so he books classes on the first learning centre he sees on the internet

But when he got to the class,,,,

As it turns out, the one that he booked was for beginner kids, not beginner adults

Cue tiny heads plus yours snapping to the door and staring at a blushing felix

Not only did he just embarrass himself in general, but the moment he saw how attractive you were he just wanted the world to swallow him whole

But he paid a good amount of money for it so he sucks in his cheeks and decides to stay for the class

He’s so awkward when he comes into the room ksdfjs you find it so cute because even though he’s like more than twice the height of the kids, his face and expression are just as small

You introduce yourself and vice versa, and you begin teaching everyone the basics

Immediately felix has a crush on you

And he wonders whether there’s a big age gap because uhm you’re a teacher and he’s a student

But turns out you do this as a side job and are a performing arts school student with the same age as him and he’s just like :DDD

So now he always makes sure to come to class on time

Actually, even earlier than on time because he wants to get some alone time with you before the rest of the class cockblocks intervenes

And slowly you both develop a strong bond

Even though he’s a crackhead and it’ll take you 2757264597 years to explain to him the difference between a viola and a violin, you don’t mind because at least with him being your boyfriend, you can give him a kiss to shut him up abt it :)

Even after his viola classes ended and you both became official, he still had a lot of interest in learning that instrument so you always teach him

And he offers to pay for lessons but you always reject it because duh hello you’re my bf shutup just give me a kiss and buy me ice cream instead??

And he teaches you a thing or two about dance, even though you look like those blow-up mascots in front of car dealerships whenever you do

He thanks the universe that he’s goofy and a crackhead, because at least he now has you :))

seungmin

So on a trip to a jazz house is when seungmin first met you

Yes, a jazz house

Don’t ask why but skz just wanted to go okay let them be

They watched multiple groups perform and were having the time of their lives

But something about you just caught seungmin’s eye

You were apart of the last group coming to perform and you played the double bass

He thought you looked so goddamn cool and slick whenever you played

And he found it adorable the way the instrument was almost the exact same size as yourself

Like chan, he’s about as subtle as a gun with the way he looks at you

And he’s so enthusiastic during the performance, always hooting and clapping after each song

And you take notice and find him so absolutely adobable because who wouldn’t

And after the performance he even yells encore so loudly and the rest of skz just laughs at his antics

But mans is so shy to approach you afterwards

He can barely move towards you

It takes a jeongin a hyunjin and a whole ass changbin to mentally and physically push seungmin to say hi to you

And after a whole 10 minutes of convincing, he finally does

And you both talk and talk and talk that he doesn’t realize all the boiz left him

Traitors

So the two of you make plans to meet up another day

Another day becomes two

Then three

Then ten

And soon enough (after much pushing again from the entire skz) he asks you to be his officially

He always tries to show up to any and all of your gigs, big or small

And he’s sooooo boastful about it it’s so cute like he’ll have videos saved on his phone of you playing and send them to anyone and everyone

His parents, the skz gc

Almost sent it to jyp himself too lmao

You’re just so cool to him that he wants the rest of the world to know it as well

But, like minho, he won’t go near your instrument

He’s so intimidated by it it’s hilarious

So he sticks to watching it from afar and hfkjhkgjfh

Big smooch

i.n

During a music event is when jeongin first laid eyes on you

But not because he saw you perform

Your performance group shared the same backstage lounge as skz and everyone was just getting to know each other

And you and jeongin really clicked well because you both were the youngest and the same age

He had absolutely no clue who u were tho and he didn’t want to be rude so he didn’t ask what kpop group u were from

But as it turns out you weren’t apart of a kpop group at all

You were apart of an orchestra doing a special stage and you played the flute and jeongin was just like O_O when he found out

You played the flute and damn did u play it well

Jeongin just stood in front of the screen astounded and seungmin did not and will not stop clowning him for it

After it ended, jeongin was quick to congratulate and compliment you

And he rambles about how it was so unexpected and you blush so much because he’s so cute

And so you both exchange numbers and frequently text from then on, becoming really good friends

And then slowly developing feelings for each other

Cue cute highschool confession tingz

Jeongin as a bf is super adorable

He’s always asking you to send voice notes of you playing the flute

But not just to any song

He’ll request crackhead ones like the wii music, some trot song, into the unknown

And you’re just like????? Okay, my quirky king

And in return you force him to send voice notes of him singing more trot songs

He attempts to play your flute

But he always messes up but he’s so adorable that you tell him he’s doing great just so that he keeps playing cutely

:’))))))))))

choosing to do ot8 now,,, it’s difficult to imagine skz as ot9 in my head then be brought back to reality of ot8.. please understand :( but i will take separate woojin requests

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loveburnsbrighter · 5 years ago

Text

Live In Your Heart

requested by @i-dont-even-effing-know-anymore. hope you enjoy! 💕

read it on ao3

"We're not setting up the wifi yet," Patrick says. He's got his Stern Face on, which usually means fun things, but sometimes, unfortunately, means that David will be required to do work. This seems to be one of those times.

"But babe," he says, wheedling, "how will I order pizza if I don't have wifi?" He brandishes his phone. "I ran out of data in New York last week." He went with Alexis to help her settle in — it's been a strain, her moving right before he and Patrick were set to, and he's frankly exhausted, physically and emotionally. "We promised Stevie pizza," he adds, as if he can convince Patrick that his motivation is purely selfless.

Patrick plucks the phone right out of his hand. "I'll call them," he says. "You remember, how we ordered pizza back in the nineties? By calling?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." David leans back against a towering stack of boxes, ignoring Patrick's pained look, and sighs heavily. "Alright, fine. We might as well get this done. Bedroom first, or kitchen?"

"We can put Stevie on kitchen duty when she gets here," Patrick says. "Bedroom now." He pauses for a moment, and then smiles slowly, like he can't help it. "Our bedroom," he says, and David wouldn't generally describe Patrick as a particularly jovial person, but he looks downright giddy.

David honestly can't blame him, feels that a little bit too, at the words. He's spent a lot of time at Patrick's place, and for the last month or so he's lived there fully, barring his four days in New York with Alexis. But it was still Patrick's place, no matter how at-home David made himself there. (Very.)

This is their place. David and Patrick's home. David and Patrick's bedroom.

"Our bedroom," he agrees, and grabs a box, following Patrick down the hall.

Their bedroom is, thus far, more or less a big empty cube. There's a weird alcove with the window in it that Patrick has been insisting he wants a window seat for, and the master bathroom door is on the wall kitty-corner to the bedroom door. David has been pleased (thrilled) to note that the whole thing comes with a lovely little walk-in closet; it's not huge, but it's easily three or four times the size of the closet back in Patrick's studio.

The movers brought in Patrick's bed yesterday and set it up against the far wall, and David and Patrick slept on the mattress on the floor at Patrick's place. "Okay, first things's first," David says, dropping his box in the middle of the floor. Patrick pointedly pushes it against a wall, and David ignores him. "Where are the sheets? Because we can not sleep on dirty sheets our first night in the new house, Patrick."

"Actually," Patrick says, "about that." He's barely trying to hide a shit-eating grin, and it makes David immediately wary.

"What," he says heavily.

"Okay, don't be mad," Patrick says, which tells David that he probably should be, "I should have talked to you probably but I wanted it to be a surprise," and he rushes through the words to keep David from interrupting. "I used all the money my grandparents gave us for our wedding and bought that flax-linen Pottery Barn set you wanted."

David gasps, because he has wanted that bed set so badly — fair trade linens in gorgeous soft sandy beige — but Patrick has insisted every time David has argued that it's frivolous to spend more than a hundred dollars on sheets. Their current sheets are from Target. "Like, the sheets —"

"The whole bed set," Patrick says, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "The sheets, the duvet and shams — I didn't get the dust ruffle because my bed frame —" But David doesn't get to hear about the dust ruffle because he's quite literally launching himself into Patrick's arms and kissing him.

Patrick makes a soft, surprised noise, not quite a laugh, and lifts his hands to hold David by the waist. He pulls back just a little, letting David kiss down his jaw, to say, "So you're not mad?"

"Linen sheets," David mumbles against his Adam's apple. He pulls back to smile down at Patrick, and Patrick is smiling back, radiant in a way that David never saw him before they got engaged, a way that he's seen more and more since they decided to buy the house. "Okay," he says, schooling himself, because if they do what he wants to do — which is tackle Patrick onto the bare mattress in their empty bedroom and thoroughly christen the house — then they'll never get to all the things they have to do. "Well, where are the new sheets, because they have to be washed before we can use them."

Patrick helps David wrestle the new bedding out of its insane packaging, and then builds a little fort in the tiny laundry room out of all the cardboard while David starts a load. He's relieved every second that the previous owners left their washer and dryer — they're both done with public laundry for the foreseeable future.

They grab another box each to haul into the bedroom on the way back down the hall; the bed and dressers are there already, and a single bookcase. David has already been in to clean the closet and repaper the shelves in there, and they've agreed that they don't want to paint the bedroom; it came a creamy off-white that feels warm and soft, somehow.

David puts on music — he's made a playlist just for this, full of high-energy, multigenerational pop, Tina and Britney and Mariah all sharing space. At some point Patrick logged into their shared Spotify — purely an economic choice; David didn't want Patrick's music fucking up his Wrapped, but that's not really worth ten bucks a month — and added Mumford and Sons and Bryan Adams and the Beach Boys, because Patrick has no sense of thematic or genre consistency. It's fine, he supposes; when you love someone, you're willing to compromise for them.

"'Framed wall art and photos - bedroom,'" Patrick says out loud, reading off the Sharpie label on a box. "Maybe we should save this one until we've got the basics together?"

"Okay," David agrees over an infuriatingly long banjo solo. "This one is your books?" Patrick gestures and David slides it over, watches him produce a knife from his pocket and slice open the top.

By the time Stevie strolls through the door, helpfully using her emergency key, they've mostly got the bedroom together. The mattress pad and sheets are on, with the duvet set in the dryer, and Patrick's books and David's books are commingled on the shelf, which David is alarmingly pleased by — they're married, but the sight of his Virginia Woolf next to Patrick's Agatha Christie makes him feel warm from the inside out.

"I picked up the pizza," Stevie shouts. "You owe me forty bucks in reimbursement!"

David skids down the hall, eager for pizza, with Patrick behind him.

"How in the name of god did you spend forty bucks on pizza?" Patrick wants to know.

Stevie shrugs, hugging him as David relieves her of the boxes. "I got garlic knots."

"And cheese bread," David says gleefully, spreading the boxes on the table. "And one of those big cookies."

Patrick sighs after him but dutifully digs three beers out of the fridge. (They set up all the appliances and TVs yesterday.) (All that's in the fridge so far is beer, a single head of lettuce, and a few bottles of green juice.) David accepts his beer with minimal distasteful nose-scrunching.

They make short work of lunch, and Patrick sets Stevie up in the kitchen with a roll of shelf paper and more boxes than he'd ever thought he could fill with kitchen stuff; the dishes from his apartment, of course, and then they'd gotten a lot of the classic appliance wedding gifts: a brand new blender, a four-slice toaster ("but what will you use?" David had asked), an upright mixer, a block of knives with marble handles that Patrick is actually thrilled with.

David finishes making the bed, and then he just stands and stares at it for a second; he can't wait for Patrick to have sex with him in these sheets in this bedroom, but he also can't wait for Patrick to cuddle with him in this bed. Watch movies with him. Hold him close and fall asleep with an arm slung low over his waist.

Patrick comes up behind him and settles warm hands on his hips, and David leans back into the touch. "Stevie and I want to get started on the living room," Patrick says, hooking his chin over David's shoulder. "You just about done in here?"

David crosses his arms across his own waist and takes Patrick's hands, swaying. One of Patrick's songs is playing from David's tiny speaker. I've been so happy loving you, Dennis Wilson croons into the space, less echoey than it was earlier before they got their pictures up. He looks around at their new room; the receipt from their first date is already on the bookshelf, and there's a framed poster for that first open mic night, and one from Alexis' singles week. These are all things from Patrick's apartment; all this time, he's been collecting little souvenirs for them. Stepping stones tracing the path of their relationship. There's a framed wedding invitation, too, and photos: from the store opening, Patrick's birthday, their bachelor party, their wedding.

Even after David landed in Schitt's Creek without a paddle, if he'd been asked to describe his future, he would have crafted a life more or less like the one he'd left: galleries and parties, a drugged-out A-list entourage, globetrotting in the wake of Alexis' endless stream of near misses. He never could have imagined this: a house in a small town, a business heavily patronized by flannel-clad locals, a single friend who loved him enough to help him move. Alexis settled in one place, his parents settled in another, weekly Facetime calls.

Five gold rings on his fingers, the most beautiful man he's ever seen in Costco jeans, holding him and swaying and singing softly in his ear: "Forever, together my love…" A sedan that clicks in the driveway, blueprints for a vegetable garden. All the Ricky-and-Lucy trappings of a good life, things he never would have expected to love.

"You won," Stevie told him a few months ago, when he brought her here to sit in the driveway and pour out his heart. And David can hear her clanking dishes together downstairs, and Patrick is warm against his back, and the song is fading out the way that slow seventies rock does, and David knows, bone-deep, unshakeably, that she was right.

#david x patrick #fanfiction #rye.txt #stevie budd #schitt's creek

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suspiriu-m · 4 years ago

Text

Examining Youth Culture

Youth Culture in television in cinema is a theme we’ve all seen before. In some way or another, we’ve all probably related or even seen ourselves in something we’ve watched. A lot of experiences we see in these coming of age style pieces most of the time have something to do with at least one of three recurring themes. Sex, drugs and alcohol. Character archetypes are also an important part of these stories too. To sum it up, we’re generally confronted with Jocks, Nerds, Goths, Popular Kids, Pot Heads etc.

A major point to take into account when looking at this type of media is the perspective the story is told from, and where it’s taking place. For example, Barry Jenkins’ 2016 film Moonlight, is completely different from 2018’s Love Simon, directed by Greg Berlanti. Moonlight tells the story of a young Black man named Chiron. Through three different time periods in his life, we see him come to terms with his identity and sexuality, all while living with his drug addicted mother in an impoverished neighborhood in Miami. Throughout the film Chiron not only faces the struggles of his sexuality within himself, but how his unaccepting peers react, his mess of a mother, and maneuvering masculinity without the guidance of his missing father. In a review written for The Guardian, Peter Bradshaw says that Moonlight

“is a film about masculinity, the wounds and crises of which are the same for all sexualities, but conditioned by the background weather of race and class” ((Bradshaw Moonlight review – a visually ravishing portrait of masculinity).

Love Simon however, is a completely different ballgame. The juxtaposition between the two films is extremely noticeable, even from just from looking at their promotional images. While Moonlight is more of a serious, realistic and emotionally charged movie, Love Simon has more of a young adult, coming of age, happily ever after tone to it. In the film, the main character has to find his way through growing up, high school, coming out to his friends and family, but most importantly figuring out how Blue is. Blue is the person that Simon has formed a connection with through emailing each other. The only problem? He has absolutely no idea who Blue even is. One of the more important aspects of this film when looking to compare it to others is the fact that the main character and most of the cast are all white. Not only that, but it takes place in a much more suburban setting compared to that of Moonlight. Simon’s relationship with his parents is very strong, his friends are all super close to him and the impression is given that they would obviously support him once he comes out. Surprise, they do.

In terms of which character I related to from the selection of films and shows assigned, I don’t really feel like I can truthfully say that I felt some sort of connection with them. Being gay myself, there wasn’t a crazy amount of representation in terms of queer youth in the films. Yes in Mean Girls you had Damian but he was kind of underutilized and exaggerated. In Euphoria you have Jules who is a trans woman but that also isn’t something that I’ve experienced and won’t pretend to. Could I relate to a few aspects of her character? Of course, i’m sure anybody can. But am I able to say I identify with her? Definitely not. That’s not a bad thing though, trans stories need to be represented in the media. More importantly they don’t always have to be represented in some tragic story or situation. Even though we’ve seen more queer representation today than ever before. We still have a long way to go. Rachel Bays wrote an article for The Advance-Titan stating

“Out of 109 major studio releases in 2017 researched by GLAAD, roughly 13% had LGBTQ characters. Of these films, about 64% featured gay men, 36% featured lesbians, 14% featured bisexuals and 0% featured trans-inclusive content”(Bays The complicated history of queer representation in film: The Advance).

It’s imperative that we see more queer representation mashed with Youth Culture in our media because not every single person experiences the same thing, especially queer kids. In terms of Kids, Saved By The Bell and Mid 90’s, I don’t specifically remember any particular moments in which I personally felt any sort of strong connection.

Now, if we’re gonna speak about common themes in a lot of these stories, then here is where I can say I definitely connected with some situations more than specific characters. Sex, drugs and alcohol are topics we see come up in a lot of coming of age or youth centered stories. In Kids, the main cast is basically parading around the city smoking, drinking and fornicating multiple times throughout the entire day. In Euphoria, one of the main characters Rue suffers from drug addiction. Kat comes to terms with her sexual awakening and a lot of her storyline is focused on her coming in touch with that side of her, whether or not it was the best way to portray it. And most of the other characters are all seen smoking, drinking out having sex at some point in the series.

Growing up, especially in our teen years, we’ve all had the opportunity to partake in at least one of those activities previously mentioned. I know for a fact that I have definitely been to parties, drank alcohol, smoked weed. I’ve encountered hookups and the whole nine yards. Something that really stood out to me in Euphoria was the episode in which Jules ends up meeting with an older man in a hotel room late at night. We shall not name the character for sake of spoilers but those of you who watched know exactly who i’m talking about. That entire scene was just gut wrenching for me to watch and I know it was for many other young queer people as well. Everything about that scene was purposefully uncomfortable to watch from the cinematography, music, acting and the location.

Speaking of music, the soundtrack to a film or TV show is super important and a lot of the time helps the creators in getting their point across. Euphoria specifically used a lot of modern music but also threw in some classics as well. The singer-songwriter Labrinth played a big role in adding music to the show’s soundtrack. He even collaborated with Zendaya in making All For Us, the show’s theme and closing track. It was premiered in the last episode of the series and incorporated into the storyline with a performance by Zendaya herself. This song specifically is so important aside from the rest of the show’s music because it aids in showing Rue’s downfall at the end of the season. She goes through so much in her recovery and relapsing and her relationship with Jules that when Jules finally decides to hop on that train and leave even though Rue tells her it’s not the best idea, it absolutely crushed her. In an interview for Rolling Stone magazine, Labrinth stated “When you look back to your teenage days... it feels semi-magical but semi-crazy and semi-psychotic. I wanted to make sure the music felt like those things”(Marks How Labrinth Created the Perfect Soundtrack for HBO's 'Euphoria').

To help convey how certain songs can help in telling a story, I created a short playlist with songs that I felt matched certain plot points in the show. Without going into too much detail in an attempt to avoid spoilers, I want to give you guys a short explanation of each song about how I feel it can fit into the show. In no exact order, the first song I chose was Regulars by Allie X. The song is about trying to fit in with society and the people around you when you feel out of place all the time. Personally, I feel like this is a good representation of Rue when she comes home from rehab and has to try and blend back into society knowing that everybody knows where she was. Halsey’s Beautiful Stranger is about meeting somebody after being hurt so many times, or just being in a bad headspace and finally feeling like this person could be the one. This is a good explanation for how Rue feels about Jules when she first meets her. She’s hesitant but slowly starts to fall in love with her before Jules starts acting out. Contaminated by Banks is a piece about loving somebody but having their history or the other person's actions make you feel not so good about the relationship you have with them. This is how Rue feels after her first little fallout with Jules. They kind of have an on and off relationship throughout the season and Rue subconsciously has doubts. Simmer by Hayley Williams is a song about suppression. Suppressing your emotions, especially the bad ones like anger, fear, sadness, rage. Nate in the series suffers with a lot of mental suppression. He suppresses his feelings about his relationship with his father, his questioning sexuality, his feelings for a specific character. Although he does lose his cool multiple times throughout the show, it’s not until the end of the season that he really bursts and lets everything out. Another song from Hayley Williams with her band Paramore called Fake Happy is also on the playlist. Fake Happy, to put it simply, is exactly what the title suggests. Pretending to be okay when you’re really not. In the show Rue relapses a few times whether that be big or small, and she has to hide it from her friends and family.

Maddy and Cassie are both the pretty popular girls of this show, leading me to choose Rina Sawayama’s XS as a representation of them. The title XS, otherwise interpreted as “excess” is literally about money, appearance and materialistic items. All of which Cassie and Maddy display throughout the show. The popular cheerleaders with the nice clothes and toned bodies, the pretty makeup and done up hair. It’s a perfect representation of their characters in my opinion. Even though they do have storylines going deeper into their minds, this is what they portray on the surface level.

youtube

Hallucinogenics by Matt Masson is a song about going somewhere else most likely due to drugs, and feeling like a different person. Although the song is a bit lighthearted in terms of sound, I think it fits with the scene with Jules and Rue taking drugs together and tripping in her room together. Rue was wary about doing it especially after the fact that she just got clean, and she already has this war in her mind going on but she does it anyways because she likes Jules. Attack of Panic by Aly & Aj heavily focuses on anxiety, which is something Rue deals with multiple times throughout the show. Especially the episode when she’s in school and pretty much has a mental breakdown and runs to the bathroom and hides. Even though the character Kat isn’t the primary focus of the show, her storyline has a bit of line shined upon it multiple times. For her storyline i chose Doja Cat’s Cyber Sex. Kat becomes a cam girl at one point in her sexual awakening and kind of goes full throttle into it. The song talks about having sexual relations with somebody over the internet and that’s exactly what Kat does, except she sees it more as a way to make an income.

Last but not least, I of course had to choose Labrinth and Zendaya’s song made for the show All for Us. The song represents Rue’s feelings of not wanting to let her family down, knowing the struggles and pain they have gone through and not wanting to upset or disappoint them again. Everything she’s done to get clean and sober up has been because of them. She loves her family so dearly but in the end she just broke down again, all because of Jules and the mess that she got herself involved with pertaining to many of the other characters she meets throughout the show. I hope you guys enjoy the playlist and take a good listen to the lyrics and themes in each song! They might not be perfect, but to me they have a lot of commonalities with themes and specific moments and themes from the show!

https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/playlist-for-euphoria/pl.u-AGAaiylr2l

youtube

#Youtube

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moulinrougefanfanfans · 5 years ago

Photo

Moulin Rouge for VOGUE!

(These are the HQ Photo Versions!)

Moulin Rouge!’s Broadway cast, photographed at Kings Theatre in Brooklyn. Sittings Editors: Hamish Bowles, Alexandra Cronan. Produced by 360pm. Set Design: CJ Dockery at Mary Howard Studio; Costume Designer: Catherine Zuber; Choreographer: Sonya Tayeh

Photographed by Baz Luhrmann, Vogue, July 2019

July 2019 Vogue (Online)

BAZ LUHRMANN WAS BORN to reinvent the movie musical for a new generation—which is exactly what he did in 2001 with Moulin Rouge!, his deliriously romantic mash-up, set in 1890s Paris, of La Bohème, La Traviata, and the Orpheus myth, with a soundtrack that exploded with modern-day pop songs, lavish Technicolor sets and costumes (by his wife, Catherine Martin), and a hyperkinetic cinematic style that drew on MGM musicals, MTV videos, and Bollywood spectaculars. The motto of this blatantly artificial world, served with a knowing wink (which nevertheless swept us up in its very real, very breathless emotions), could be borrowed from William Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell: “Enough! Or too much.”

In his own way, the brilliant theater director Alex Timbers—whose work includes Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, Here Lies Love, and, most recently, Beetlejuice—was born to reinvent Moulin Rouge! for the stage, as another generation of New York audiences will discover when his electrifying, eye-popping, and blissfully over-the-top adaptation of Luhrmann’s masterpiece opens on Broadway, after a smash run in Boston, this month.

“I’ve spent my life taking classics and interpreting them in radical ways,” Luhrmann says, “so how could I not applaud someone taking a work of mine and interpreting it in a radical way? You have to interpret things for the time and place you’re in. In the end, it’s still a tragic opera, but Alex applies himself to it in such a dexterous way that there’s irony and fun and music and emotion.”

Luhrmann grew up in Herons Creek, a tiny, remote Australian town with a total of seven houses in it, where, he says, “if you didn’t have a good imagination and an ability to create worlds in your mind, you were lost.” Fortunately his family, which ran a gas station and a pig farm, also ran the local movie theater and had a black-and-white TV set (which showed exactly one channel), and Luhrmann devoured a steady diet of old movies, including musicals, with which he fell in love. His mother was a ballroom-dance instructor who started giving him lessons early, and his father insisted that Luhrmann and his siblings study painting and music. Before long he was staging little shows, performing magic tricks, making films with his father’s 8-millimeter camera, and acting in school plays.

Apparently it was the ideal upbringing to produce an artist of dazzling originality, one with a singular, idiosyncratic vision and an expansive playing field: film, theater, opera, commercials, music videos, pop songs. After the success of his first two films, Strictly Ballroom and Romeo + Juliet—both of which had healthy doses of movie-musical DNA encoded into their cinematic language—Luhrmann wanted to take on the genre itself. He and his co-writer, Craig Pearce, set their film in Belle Epoque Paris, in and around the legendary Moulin Rouge nightclub, telling a tragic love story straight out of verismo opera with the Orpheus legend—a young poet and musician travels to the underworld in search of his dead love, Eurydice, and is reunited with her only to lose her again, emerging forever changed—as its mythical underpinning.

But Luhrmann also had what he calls a “preposterous conceit” that allowed his Orpheus—a Bohemian poet named Christian, played by Ewan McGregor—to metaphorically enchant the very rocks and stones to follow him because of his voice: “When our poet opens his mouth, ‘The hills are alive with the sound of music’ comes out of it,” he says. “Whether you like The Sound of Music or not, it’s a giant hit that’s got artistic cred—so it’s a funny, concise way of saying ‘The guy has magic.’” Preposterous or not, the conceit turned the love story between McGregor’s Christian and Nicole Kidman’s doomed Satine, a nightclub star and courtesan, into a pop fantasia, giving the music its audience had grown up with—from “Your Song” to “Lady Marmalade”—an operatic grandeur.

Luhrmann had long wanted to bring Moulin Rouge! to the stage but felt that he wasn’t the right person for the job—he worried that he was too close to the material and might be overprotective of it. Enter Alex Timbers, 40, a downtown wunderkind who has brought the cheeky, postmodern spirit of his theater company Les Freres Corbusier to Broadway and shares with Luhrmann a restlessly playful and inventive mise-en-scène. “When I saw Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, I could tell that his aesthetic and the way he told a story—very high-energy, very theatrical, ironic but also moving—had a certain kinship with mine,” Luhrmann says. “And after I met him, I knew that he would have his own interpretation but also understand the language of the film.”

The biggest challenge Timbers and his team faced was how to bring the film’s hypercinematic exuberance alive on a stage. “We had to create a visceral and kinetic excitement using an entirely theatrical vocabulary,” Timbers says. “We don’t have any of those virtuosic techniques like close-ups and Steadicam and music video–style editing, but you want the show to be able to leap over the footlights—emotionally, but also as a spectacle. So we use a lot of techniques to do that.”

Do they ever. From the moment you enter the theater, it’s clear that Timbers has realized his mandate to make the show—which he’s been working on for the past six years—“360.” It’s as if you’ve walked into the Moulin Rouge itself, courtesy of the gorgeously overwhelming set (by Derek McLane) that greets you: There are hearts within hearts, chandeliers, the stage flanked by a windmill on one side and an elephant on the other. Then out come the corset-clad boys and girls of the night (who come in all colors, shapes, and sizes) and the fashionable members of the Parisian demimonde in Catherine Zuber’s fabulous costumes. The next thing you know, “Four Bad Ass Chicks from the Moulin Rouge,” as the script identifies them—propelled onstage by Sonya Tayeh’s wildly exuberant choreography—are belting “Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista,” and we’re off to the races. “I wanted to build this exotic, intoxicating world that felt beautiful and dangerous and gritty and sexy,” Timbers says. “It felt really important for the sets and the costumes to use period elements, and for us to be ruthless about that, but to put them in a form that feels contemporary and surprising.”

The seven-time Tony-winning costume designer Zuber (The King and I, My Fair Lady) has done that and then some, tipping her hat to Catherine Martin’s designs for the film without imitating them. She’s even managed to design Belle Epoque finery that allows the dancers the freedom of movement to execute Tayeh’s propulsive choreography. Zuber is also a master of using costumes to reveal character and situation, as with the ornate gown she designed for Satine after she becomes the Duke’s courtesan and enters his glittering world. Inspired by designs from John Galliano’s 2006 couture collection, it features a bodice that looks like a cage and three rows of lacing down the back. “It’s almost like she’s a prisoner,” Zuber says.

Playing Satine this time around is Karen Olivo (West Side Story, Hamilton), who brings very different qualities to the role than Kidman, both physical (Olivo is a woman of color) and temperamental (desperate, determined, and down-to-earth, as opposed to ethereal). Aaron Tveit (Next to Normal, Catch Me if You Can), meanwhile, sings like a dream and brings the requisite dewy idealism to the naive Christian, but with a hint of something edgier.

The story is very much the same as the film’s: Satine is the star attraction at the Moulin Rouge, owned by the rapacious Harold Zidler (Danny Burstein), who is in financial hot water and in danger of losing the club. Christian and Satine meet and fall head over heels, but she has been promised by Zidler to the villainous Duke (Tam Mutu), who can give her the bejeweled life she’s always dreamed of, forcing her to choose between that and true love. Meanwhile, Christian and his pals Santiago and Toulouse-Lautrec (Ricky Rojas and Sahr Ngaujah) are writing a show, bankrolled by the Duke, that is meant to save the Moulin Rouge from going under. Then, of course, Satine has this persistent cough and . . . well, you know.

The big difference in terms of the storytelling is that book writer John Logan (Red) has fleshed out and deepened the characters and the relationships between them. “We looked at the major characters, asked what their backstories were, and tried to figure out how grounded they could possibly be in psychological realism and yet still be heightened in that way that musical theater demands,” Logan says. “How did Satine get to be this sparkling diamond—and what’s the price she’s paid along the way?”

But the boldest change—and in many ways the heart of the show—is in the new songs, which give Moulin Rouge! fresh emotional resonance (and whip the crowd into a frenzy). Along with the familiar Bowie, Madonna, and Elton John tunes, expect to hear from the likes of Outkast, Sia, Beyoncé, Fun, Adele, and Lorde, to name but a few (there are more than 70 songs in the show). To curate Moulin Rouge!’s dizzying playlist, Timbers, Logan, and music director/genius Justin Levine holed up in a Times Square hotel room with a digital keyboard, dredged up their musical memories, and took note of what worked. Their taste is impeccable, whether using a song for its sheer exuberance, as with a rousing version of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance,” or to reveal a character’s inner desires, as Satine does with Katy Perry’s “Firework.”

Logan has been blown away to see how powerfully audiences have connected with the show—and the songs. “I went to a wedding recently, and when the dancing started, I heard half our score being played, which was wild,” he says. “And when you see audience members respond to the songs—‘They’re using thatsong? Oh, my God! No way!’—you can feel how excited they are. It’s an experience I’ve never had before. It’s magic.”

#moulin rouge #aaron tveit #karen olivo #danny burstein #vogue #Baz Lurhmann #moulin rouge broadway #moulin rouge musical #vogue magazine #articles #features #ricky rojas #tam mutu #sahr ngaujah #robyn hurder #jacqueline b arnold #jeigh madjus #holly james

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natromanxoff · 5 years ago

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Queen live at Victoria Hall in Hanley, UK - October 31, 1974

The setlist is apparently the same as last night's.

The sound in Victoria Hall was not up to par for plenty of people who witnessed concerts there, as the acoustics were more suited for classical music than rock music. (x)

Fan Stories

The 70's, what a decade, Glam Rock, flares, platform heeled shoes, being a teenager then was one of the most exciting periods of my life. Having just left school in the summer of 73 and having just started working a few months earlier, like most kids I saved most of my wages to purchase my first record player, which eventually bought and was a 'top of the range' Ferguson stereogram, one of those teak coloured sideboard looking affairs, laughable now really! This period was the defining moment of my young life; musically I was mainly into two bands, the first one being 'Queen', and the second 'The Sweet', in that order! Queen sang and played songs about Fairy Feller's, Ogre Battle's and Great King Rats etc. Whereby Sweet sung about Hellraising, fighting, and stealing your girlfriend! Both bands had a profound affect on my musical upbringing. They both had a great visual image, superb vocal harmonies and in my opinion two of the best lead guitarists of all time in Brian May & Andy Scott, which incidentally was always the main factor that got me into Rock music in general. Having first heard Queen's second British single, the monumental 'Seven Seas Of Rhye' in my local Woolworth's music department of all places, I handed over my 45p and rushed home to play it. The 'A' track and its (vastly underrated) 'B' side 'See What a Fool I've Been' is still one of my all time favorite Queen tracks even after all these years! It wasn't long before the classic 'Queen II' album came out and became part of my regular record deck playlist. The album also confirmed what I had believed all along that the band were hard edged rockers, that used grandiose, interesting lyrics, but more importantly melodies in conjunction with guitar riffs to spread their message. Having now been converted 100% to the Queen cause and with both single and album gatecrashing the mainly Soul music dominated record charts, it wasn't long before I heard that the band were aiming to tour Britain to support their recently released vinyl offerings, along with their 3rd album Sheer Heart Attack, that was just around the corner. Stoke-on-Trent was not, and still is not the Rock 'n' Roll capital of the world, although we did have a couple of decent music venues in the town, (and a reputation for giving visiting bands a hard time if they couldn't cut it live.) The main one was the Victoria Hall a large, cold and cavernous place, one that was more commonly used to promoting orchestral concerts, although bands like UFO, Budgie and the like had played here. It was also here that Queen were booked to perform a show (supported by Firefly/A&M records recording artists 'Hustler'.). Unbeknown to me at the time, but this was Queen's second visit to my hometown. Apparently the band's first trip was when they supported 'Mott The Hoople', in November a year earlier, where it was also reported by colleagues of mine who had attended that particular gig that "Queen had simply blown Mott off the stage, they were so good!"

Proceeding to convince a couple of 'none Queen believer' friends of mine to also attend the show I purchased three 80p tickets (if only ticket prices were still this reasonable!) and waited. It wasn't long, before the show date arrived. The concert hall building being a major landmark was on my way home, (I used to pass it on the way from doing part time college studies), imagine how shocked I was one afternoon to see in its main reception area a large colour poster advertising the Queen show. Being a bit brave and with no one looking, I carefully prized the poster away from the wall, rolled it up and proceeded to walk off with it. The poster printed in gold and purple (see inset) is still one of the best posters I have ever seen. It still has pride of place on my landing wall and is the envy of many of my friends. As evening approached I collected my friends and made our way to a pub that adjoined the venue. On entering the hall and considering this was a quiet Thursday night, the place seemed pretty full. We entered midway through support band Hustler's set, but they were very entertaining and played some really good songs, I remember being impressed by one particular tune called 'Little People' which I think was released as their first single? After they had ended there was the usual delay whilst the stage gear was removed, but then at around 9.30 the house lights went off and silhouettes of the various Queen band members could be seen entering the stage to the instrumental fanfare intro of 'Procession'. The band were wearing superb white and black 'Angel type winged costumes' designed and made for them by Zandra Rhodes I believe (similar to the stage costumes that they wore a year later for the televised BBC London Hammersmith Odeon concert). The stage lighting was quite dark at times but Freddie, Brian, Roger & John opened proceedings with the excellent Now I'm Here. Soon they broke into Ogre Battle and then White Queen, before launching into a brand new song, Flick of the Wrist. I believe we then had an excellent medley of, In The Lap Of The Gods, Killer Queen, The March Of The Black Queen and Bring Back That Leroy Brown before they proceeded with a couple of Queen I songs, with Son & Daughter and Keep Yourself Alive. I seem to remember we then had two more brand new songs, with the superb Stone Cold Crazy, followed by Lap of the Gods Revisited which went down really well with lots of people now rammed up close to the front of the high hall stage. They finished with Son and Daughter I believe. Freddie thanked everyone for attending and said a few words about the new album coming out soon. As they left the stage the crowd were going mad and demanding more, and eventually, the band returned for the encore, which I seem to remember was Big Spender, and Jailhouse Rock. The sound quality of the show wasn't perfect, but this was normal at this venue, a criticism that affected many bands that visited the Victoria Hall. Nevertheless the band went down extremely well with the a very enthusiastic audience, in fact there was a broad mixed age range which was good to see. On this performance you can understand why they went on to achieve the fame and success they did, it was impossible not to think that they wouldn't as the fan base just had to increase especially with the 'Killer Queen' single having been released about a month earlier. I saw Queen perform on a few other occasions (maybe I'll report on these other shows in a future issue) but none of them impressed me as much as this show, they were quite sensational. My only regret of the night was not going backstage and hunting down some band autographs, never mind it was still a great, not to be missed performance. - Chris Wood

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

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diarrheaofthekeyboard · 4 years ago

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Jumping at Shadows

7.25.2020

Peter Green died today and I spent a considerable amount of the morning listening to “Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac - Live at the BBC”. I never met the man but his music greatly affected me 25 years ago.

The first time I heard of Peter Green was in the book to Aerosmith’s “Pandora’s Box”. I was a massive Aerosmith fan in high school and I think my parents may have given it to me for my birthday. A few years later I was working at a record store and I don’t think the BBC set made it to the sales floor. I bought it as soon as I saw it.

Halfway through my freshman year I sold most of my high school CD collection. I was still beholden to Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Metallica, Pink Floyd and some others. But nearly every hair metal record was sold to fund albums by God Street Wine, The Jayhawks, Uncle Tupelo, Gov’t Mule, and other 90s bands I had been newly exposed to. I was also getting albums from my friend Doug, who was pointing me towards the British Invasion and British Prog, with Zappa and The Fugs being the only outliers.

When Live at the BBC appeared it was a big moment in my musical development. Here was something I was being introduced to from all sides. It was marketed to me by a guitar magazine, it was an influence of my biggest influence in high school (Aerosmith) and it was a bonding point with a big brother figure.

Discovering Peter Green may also be the first instance of “pulling back the wool” on classic rock for me. He shatters the idea that if something is good, it will be popular.

Guitarists know Peter Green. Or more specifically, Boomers, Gen X-ers, and older Millennials who play guitar know Peter Green. But nobody else does. In popular music, there’s maybe 3 songs people know, and none know he wrote them. “Black Magic Woman” by Santana, “Green Malanashi” by Judas Priest, and “Oh Well” by Fleetwood Mac, as played by Lindsey Buckingham. If you’re a second or third generation classic rock kid from the burbs hearing the same songs every day at the same time from the same top 100 playlist that’s been played for the past 30 years, you’re never going to hear about Peter Green. You get Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll hear Jeff Beck. When Fleetwood Mac comes up, you’ll hear the Buckingham/Nicks version and never anything from the previous band, not even an acknowledgement they existed.

So here’s this 2 disc set that just kills. It explains everything Aerosmith was doing in the mid-70s and kicks the Stones blues covers in the teeth. It’s also the album that started me on the “Clapton is not God” argument, that really crystallized for me a few years later when I saw “The Last Waltz”.

I spent a lot of time learning some of these songs. Particularly “Rattlesnake Shake”, “Sandy Mary”, “Oh Well” and “Albatross”. The first and last were important because “Pandora’s Box” has a third rate cover of “Rattlesnake Shake”, and they really think it’s good. “Albatross” was the inspiration for “Boogie Man”, which is the last song on “Get A Grip”. “Sandy Mary” is just a cool song. We’ll get to “Oh Well” in a moment.

Around this time, the “Rumours” line-up of Fleetwood Mac got back together. Baby Boomers everywhere wet their pants buying their reunion record. I watched their entire VH1 concert and from the first note it was torturous. I never knew just how many Fleetwood Mac songs I despised, having heard them on lite-rock radio in my parents’ car for 20 years. There were 2 bright moments for me. I’ll admit that “The Chain” is undeniable. Even all those years later, Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks still hated each other. Apparently they loved money more than they hated each other though, hence the reunion. But it’s a good song. Second was “Tusk”, which is kinda fun.

And then there’s “Oh Well”. The original version is a triple guitar assault of Marshall amps on 11. Sonic annihilation. Lindsey Buckingham played it solo. And it just didn’t work. Which in my 20 something mind, made it the worst fucking thing ever. Sacrilege. I would later give up on the idea of sacrilege, and most other things people cling to, but at that point I was highly offended.

Something like 15 years later, I was playing in a band with my friend Doug. He was on drums. And frankly, he was terrible. He had started playing drums because nobody else would, but he never put any time into it either. He wrote the words and I’d write the music and we’d make something that was ours, and I’d deal with the shitty drumming.

Well, Doug wanted to have some covers in the band. He really wanted McCartney’s “Let Me Roll It” but I didn’t like the song and because he wouldn’t put the time into his drumming, I passive aggressively didn’t put the time into really learning to sing and play it. So that went by the wayside. Then one day we broke into “Oh Well” and he just started singing it. It was a pretty trippy, spaced out version with lots of harmonizer, so I could try to approximate the song’s musical harmonies. I also loved the intense tremolo I would use. So it got added.

Even if I’m not a third the guitarist Buckingham is, I felt like we were honoring the song because it wasn’t intentionally sloppy. His one man version was an impossible task. There’s no way you can take the original, try to put on your best solo Pete Townshend, and think you’re gonna get away with it.

Doug hated when I would cut “Oh Well” from the set. This happened when we’d run out of time. You only get 45 minutes for a set of originals in NYC anyway. If we’re up there, I’m playing originals, not a cover. So he’d lose that argument. I think that was really the beginning of the end of our relationship because he would have temper tantrums when he didn’t get his way.

Oh well.

#fleetwood mac #peter green #aerosmith #bbc #paul mccartney #santana #judas priest #eric clapton #jimmy page #jeff beck #classic rock #british invasion #diarrhea #keyboard #the last waltz #nyc #marshall amp

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

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I have to admit that I had never heard of ATL until a few months ago (ig they're not big here) BUT I love the songs that are on maggie's mashton playlist (esp missing you, my heart) SO I was wondering.. do you have any recs?? either songs or an album to start with? sorry I really want to listen to them but I get easily overwhelmed by a large discography and idk where to start! I trust your taste!!!

oh my fucking god thank you this is my favorite ask i’ve ever received youre asking about my FAVORITE BAND i know helen’s received this type of ask as well but SHE doesn’t believe in the wake up sunshine/dirty work supremacy and i DO so fortunately i can point you in the CORRECT musical direction thank you you’ve come to the right place (i mean not that there’s a bad atl song other than sticks stones and techno) so how about this i’m just gonna go album by album and highlight the staple songs and then maybe a couple that i really like!! and that should start you off nicely

put up or shut up (2005): this is atl’s first studio album, and the main staple is jasey rae, although i think the girl’s a straight-up hustler is also pretty popular

so wrong, it’s right (2007): this album contains two of atl’s biggest staple songs, dear maria, count me in and remembering sunday, AND one of their best songs, vegas, which i literally cannot recommend enough. vegas is atl’s 3rd best song it is a must-listen

nothing personal (2009): by and large this album is a favorite and it also has a lot of classic atl songs. the biggest ones are weightless and therapy and probably stella although truly the entire album is incredible. i also love walls and poison and maybe break your little heart god idk there’s so many good ones

dirty work (2011): !!!! 2nd best atl album!!! (tied with last young renegade but we’ll get there). all time low’s second best SONG is also on this album, a daydream away. i personally love the whole thing, even though this album gets snubbed a lot :( but i recommend under a paper moon, guts, forget about it, and/or do you want me (dead?)

don’t panic (it’s longer now!) (2013): this is just the deluxe version of the album don’t panic, which was released in 2012. staples off this one are backseat serenade, for baltimore, and i’m pretty sure people consider the reckless and the brave a staple? this is a really traditionally pop punk album though and all the songs rock. i love to live and let go and oh, calamity! and.....if i go on ill never stop

future hearts (2015): this album feels a little cleaner-cut than the earlier ones BUT still excellent. i honestly don’t really think fh has any staple songs, don’t know why, but among my favorites are missing you, don’t you go, kids in the dark (this one is probably the closest to a staple on this record), and old scars/future hearts (also shoutout to something’s gotta give people hate on her for no fucking reason)

last young renegade (2017): this album is considered a “pocket universe” album by the band themselves, and it’s a lot more vibey and echoey and generally more nighttime-like than anything else. i TRULY love it my favorites are good times and nice2knou although drugs & candy and dirty laundry are also great

wake up sunshine (2020): the best all time low album!!!!!! hands down!!! yes it came out this year but GOD it is so fucking good. i guess the staples would be monsters and some kind of disaster but personally i think the best all time low song EVER is getaway green and also off this album i love summer daze and sleeping in truly though i cannot stress enough how good this album is EVERY song is amazing i love it to death

so!! good luck!!! i hope this was concise enough im sorry i tried not to pick too many songs even though i literally adore every single all time low song that exists except sticks stones and techno like they are my favorite band my comfort band i love how their sound has matured and evolved over the years yet stayed so true and loyal to the music they originally set out to make their integrity as a band and their (especially alex’s) ability to be constantly growing and changing both as a musician and as a person is genuinely so reassuring to me okay yes i’ve rambled can you tell i love all time low

#you can tell i tried to keep this brief when i started but #that effort was QUICKLY derailed #probably by vegas supremacy :)#helens gonna see this list and be like YOU DIDNT EVEN MENTION DANCING WITH A WOLF OR DAMNED OR SICK LITTLE GAMES OR THAT GIRL #so here i am. mentioning those #congrats helen u made it into the tags of my atl recs post how does it feel #atl recs #i also did not include it's still nothing personal on this list #because that was their 2019 rerecord of nothing personal for the 10 year anniversary!!#however i will say that once you are familiar with nothing personal if that time ever comes #ISNP is worth listening to #not all of the rerecorded versions are better but some are #lost in stereo is not. for example. neither is stella. but a party song deffo is #and damned probably is too #ok im done talking thank you thank you i love this question i love you em you absolute legend #i totally feel you about being super overwhelmed by large discographies like i REEEEEALLY UNDERSTAND #literally me with the maine #cravinsomethinsweeter #ask #answered

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lady-rian · 5 years ago

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2. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what do you like to listen to? 3. Are there any particular aus or plots that you’d really like to write? 15. What sort of muses do you tend to write? 16. Do you like to queue your replies or just post them when you finish? 17. Do you prefer winging it or plotting everything out? 19. Have you received anon hate? If so, how do you deal with it? 20. If you could tell your muse something, what would it be?

2. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what do you like to listen to?

I do! And it all depends on the mood of the writing. Can be anything from classical, epic mixes, country, hip hop, classic rock, folk... I listen to a little bit of everything. Each of my characters have their own playlists on Spotify and Youtube. I usually have something running if only for background, but if it makes me think of one character or another I toss it on a playlist. It’s not uncommon for me to get lost in YouTube just skimming through for ideas.

3. Are there any particular aus or plots that you’d really like to write?

I’m not sure about AUs. I have written in them before, but it’s not my fave. I’d rather just create a new OC for the specific Universe. I’ve done a widespread variety from WoW, Vampire Masquerade, GW2, Pottermore, and a few in between that were mix of worlds and custom realities just for funsies.

As for plots, I have a hard time actually creating plots from scratch. More often than not I like to see how things come together and develop organically. It can be slice of life, adventure, hero, villains. I’m the worst kind of critic cause I genuinely generally enjoy it all. Plots that evolve and let pieces in on their own become known. When I did an arc with Rian a few years ago I kept general goals and in turn as the year went while working towards said goals a fair bit of information and connecting lines came about that I hadn’t even considered before. It was as much of a surprise in some cases as it was to those involved.

15. What sort of muses do you tend to write?

That’s another wide variety. I’ve got my middle-class noble sorts or nobodies who are just dealing with what life has thrown at them, working toward discovering their limits. I also have the snarky sneaky sort. More villainous ones, some with spoop involved. I do love a good spoop arc. Long as there is room for character growth and I do try to keep to more realistic reactions/emotions etc.

16. Do you like to queue your replies or just post them when you finish?

Most of my posts are queued. Though when it comes to writing, for asks and stories and prompts, those are posted in real-time. I’m impatient when I’ve finished writing something and RL comes first so I don’t always get to them quickly. I may reblog if it turns out I post something in the middle of the night or what have you.

17. Do you prefer winging it or plotting everything out?

Wing it! The best stories I’ve had the pleasure of participating in have been in wing it scenarios. Not to say basics shouldn’t be sort of planned out. But like a long term goal for a character and keeping that in mind while filling in the middle. Sometimes that goal gets changed, sometimes it doesn’t. Nothing is set in stone until it happens and I don’t like to retcon, but I do like to use things that may have caused a bump as an opportunity to grow.

19. Have you received anon hate? If so, how do you deal with it?

I think I got one, but it wasn’t real? I dunno there may have been one that was. I think it’s ridiculous that anyone wastes time on Anon hate. I have seen it hit my friends. I have invited those who want to spread hate to feel free to load up my box. Much like the raging in Battlegrounds I find it amusing to turn it back around. For example I had one guy raging in a BG and fired back comments to his negative ones. He rage quit and we went on to win.

I’m secure enough in my reality it doesn’t bother me personally. I’ve been around the block enough to know you can’t make everyone happy and you gotta do you. So I do me. The big thing is, this is a hobby. It is a game. If anything here or in-game makes me that emotional, I fully capable of getting up and walking away to spend my time on something more productive rather than stew or put people on blast.

20. If you could tell your muse something, what would it be?

Rian, I’d tell to trust her gut, but keep patience. Cypris, That project you’ve been thinking on, you should just do it and reap the rewards.

There are other muses but they’ve been hit and miss the last few months.

( @jacobdcheshyre thanks for the ask!)

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kimabutch · 6 years ago

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JLCR: kimabutch edition

To celebrate somehow reaching 1000 songs on Jam Like Critical Role, the giant fan-created playlist that I’ve been curating since February, I’ve decided to put together a mini-playlist of own, featuring two of my favourite songs for each member of Vox Machina and The Mighty Nein! Each song has a YouTube link, but you can find the whole mini-playlist on Spotify here.

By mini-playlist I meant that there are “only” 36 songs, and also that I’ve pulled out my favourite lines and explained why I associate the song with them, so that this whole thing is approximately 5400 words long. I tried to restrain myself, but, well, Jam Like Critical Role is a testament to my lack of self-restraint. If it helps, I’ve tried to incorporate a diversity of artists, eras, and genres, from folk-punk to techno, country, dream-pop, classical, and beyond. I hope you find something you enjoy.

Grog

We’re Going To Be Friends, Jack Johnson (cover of White Stripes), for Grog and Pike’s incredibly wholesome childhood friendship. While many of the lyrics describe friends at school, which is not totally accurate for them, I can just imagine the two weirdos playing among the bugs:

“Walk with me, Suzy Lee/ Through the park and by the tree/ We can rest upon the ground/ And look at all the bugs we’ve found”

Not to mention Pike teaching Grog his ABCs:

“Tonight I’ll dream while in my bed/ While silly thoughts run through my head/ Of the bugs and alphabet”

I just love these two silly monstahs.

Giant, Juno Reactor: to balance out that last song, have some techno that makes me want to yell “Vox Machina, Fuck. Shit. UP!” and split Kevdak in half with a nat 20 from the sky. Appropriately named for our goliath friend, this song always temporarily convinces me that I, too, am a seven foot tall barbarian (which is not recommended while you are trying to do anything that requires brainpower.)

Keyleth

I Lost Myself, Lauren Mann and The Fairly Odd Folk, for Keyleth’s self-doubt about whether she can do her Aramente (or whether she even wants to) and fear that she’s hurting everyone:

“I’ve got voices in my head Making me think that this is where I end Hey, what do you see, if anything What do you see in me”

This specifically reminds me of her Aramente, and how it taught her so much more than she was expecting:

“You and me we made a plan To travel from here to there and back again Somewhere on that weathered road I found the dreams that I’d been looking for”

And “Hey, we’ve got the world to see/ So let’s forget our anxieties and get on our way” makes me think of Keyleth and Percy’s friendship, and how both of their stories are about trying to figure out what to do once you’ve achieved your goals. I want to think that after the story ended, they were still occasionally able to leave behind their responsibilities and travel the world together.

Take Us Back, Alela Diane, for a post-canon Keyleth, reminiscing on the old days and eventually outliving the rest of Vox Machina. I get a strong image of Kiki coming down from Zephra to see her friends:

“Atop the crags and cliffs the air is thin/ So we’ll find a mountain path on down the hill/ Meet me where the snowmelt flows/ It is there, my dear, where we’ll begin again”

And of her listening to Scanlan’s music, centuries later; they’d be the last two alive: “I’ve a friend who lives out by the river’s mouth/ He knows the fiddle’s cry is an old sound”

And then Keyleth, alone, listening to a river’s gurgle or the wind’s howling, and almost thinking she hears her friends: “Muted voices, just beyond/ The silent surface of what has gone.”

Percival

The Devil Spoke Here, Chicken Little, which I think is actually about the aftermath of a protest, but which I feel works eerily well for Percy’s development following the Briarwood arc. The beginning reminds me of his guilt, feelings of brokenness, and anger issues after he’s cast out Orthax — right down to his guilt about guns:

“There’s bullets in the streets/ and broken dishes on the floor/ enough anger in my heart/ to take the blame for it all/ I could take every bullet back/ if I could never feel like that”

It also covers Percy’s realization, after his conversation with the Raven Queen, that he’s free from the judgment of the gods, and acceptance that he’s the one who has bad thoughts for the greater good:

“I have no god for guidance/ still I’m praying all the same/ may everything I do/ be done for everybody’s gain”

And then this, for a reason that I can’t quite explain, feels so much like Percy’s forgiveness of Ripley at Glintshore, and his death at her hand:

“May we always fail/ with the best of intentions/ with our hearts always pure/ and our souls only human”

Wandering Star, Portishead: the weird trip hop vibe to this song somehow feels appropriate to Percy, and in particular to his darkest thoughts. The song addresses the possible punishments for these thoughts: “Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved/ The blackness, the darkness, forever.” It helps that this is an allusion to a Bible passage about atheists.

The second verse makes me think both of Percy’s relationship to the concept of eternity (because of the “needle’s eye” — a parable about the entrance of heaven for the rich) and his raven mask:

“Those who have seen the needle’s eye, now tread Like a husk, from which all that was, now has fled And the masks that the monsters wear To feed, upon their prey”

Additionally, “Doubled up inside/ Take a while to shed my grief” is reminiscent of Percy’s revelation, in the last episode, that he just really fucking misses his family. This whole time, something inside of him has been curled up into a little ball like the teenager he was five years ago, grieving his family.

Pike

Holy, Jamily Woods: a song about self-love and self-assurance, underscored by Christian imagery:

“Though I walk through the darkest valley I will fear no love/ Oh my smile my mind reassure me I don’t need no one […] Woke up this morning with my mind set on loving me”

Many of the lyrics can be interpreted either as the singer being self-sufficient because her god is there — or being sufficient even beyond her god: “I’m not lonely, I’m alone/ And I’m holy by my own.”

I think both interpretations work for Pike: that she has found (or is attempting to find) peace when she’s not with her friends, or that although she worships Sarenrae, the Everlight doesn’t necessarily interfere in her day-to-day life and she makes her own happiness. Either way, the song makes me feel at peace in the same way that Pike does.

The Otherside, Ohbijou, for Pike’s feelings about Scanlan during the year gap. Particularly, I’m reminded of Pike’s attempts to talk to Scanlan on the earring: “With things left unsaid so unsatisfied/ And a burning to hear your voice just one more time.”

And in these lyrics:

“And it’s so silly for me to worry/ About situations that don’t exist/ We create these problems and try to solve them/ Why waste each passing moment?”

I hear Pike trying to figure out her feelings for Scanlan, but shooting herself down because he’s gone, why even try?

Scanlan

The Pilgrim - Chapter 33, Willie Nelson (cover of Kris Kristofferson), which really encapsulates, for me, Scanlan’s complex relationship with religion: the fact that a guy who regularly produces lightning from his dick, messes with people’s memories, and actively attempts to cultivate a drug habit finds himself praying to the Everlight at night and eventually becomes Ioun’s chosen:

“He’s a poet, he’s a picker/ He’s a prophet, he’s a pusher/ He’s a pilgrim and a preacher/ And a problem when he’s stoned”

The lines “He’s a walking contradiction/ Partly truth and partly fiction” reminds me of all the identities he’s taken on, both for fun and to shield his emotions from his friends, whereas “Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home” makes me think of Scanlan’s long road back to Vox Machina after leaving them.

Handle With Care, Traveling Wilburys: almost every single song on this album works for Scanlan, so choosing just one was a real challenge. But this song is so good for all the shit that Scanlan’s been through (and all the shit that he’s been), and his relationship with Pike through all of that:

“Been beat up and battered around/ Been sent up, and I’ve been shot down/ You’re the best thing that I’ve ever found/ Handle me with care […]”

“Everybody’s got somebody to lean on” reminds me of Scanlan’s feeling, in episode 85, that he’s the odd one out in Vox Machina.

The last verse encapsulates Scanlan acknowledging his own fuck ups, working to make them right, and eventually, having a healthy relationship with Pike:

“I’ve been uptight and made a mess/ But I’ll clean it up myself, I guess/ Oh, the sweet smell of success”

Taryon

Father and Son, Cat Stevens, for Tary’s relationship with his father and his decision to leave home; the song is a duet of sorts. I think the father’s part of the song is a little generous for Howaardt Darrington, but retains the message of (somewhat condescendingly) trying to keep his son at home and have him reconsider his far-reaching plans: “I know that it’s not easy to be calm/ When you’ve found something going on.”

The son’s part, though, captures Tary’s frustration with his father’s strictness and inability to actually understand his passions:

“How can I try to explain?/ ‘Cause when I do he turns away again/ It’s always been the same, same old story/ From the moment I could talk/ I was ordered to listen/ Now there’s a way and I know/ That I have to go away”

And the last verse is some real closeted gay feelings that always make me tear up:

“All the times that I cried/ Keeping all the things I knew inside/ It’s hard, but it’s harder to ignore it”

What’s It Gonna Be, Shura, not so much for the song’s lyrics, but for its music video, which is all about falling for a different gender than you expected, and which is incredibly sweet and beautiful.

That being said, you could definitely take the lyrics to be about his crush on Percy and his obliviousness about who in Vox Machina is sleeping with whom:

“Do I tell you I love you or not?/ 'Cause I can’t really guess what you want/ If you let me down, let me down slow”

Vax’ildan

Glorious, Muse, for Vax’s early relationship with faith. He can’t help but feel drawn towards Sarenrae’s light, even as he has doubts and perhaps even anger towards the gods:

Faith: It drives me away/ But it turns me on/ Like a stranger’s love It rockets through the universe It fuels the lies and feeds the curse And we, too, could be glorious”

He wants that glory that he sees in Pike, but he doesn’t know how to approach it or reconcile it with his life experiences. And then he finds his whole world shattered as he’s chosen by the Raven Queen, and he once again has to find faith, though in a way that he never expected:

“I need to believe But I still want more With the cuts and the bruises”

Fields of Gold, Sting: a song from Vax to Keyleth. I can imagine them so perfectly in this scene, perhaps during their year of downtime, with the winds of Zephra blowing through the fields and their hope beyond hope that they’ll be able to stay together:

“Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?/ Upon the fields of barley/ We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky/ As we lie in fields of gold”

“See the west wind move like a lover so/ Upon the fields of barley/ Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth/ Among the fields of gold”

Years later, Vax knows that Keyleth will see those fields again and think of him: “You’ll remember me when the west wind moves/ Upon the fields of barley.”

Vex’ahlia

Half Jack, The Dresden Dolls: a truly haunting song about the pain and unavoidability of being her father’s daughter — she’s always half Jill (her mother) and half Jack (her father.) The whole song is incredibly painful for Vex, and the lines:

“It might destroy me But I’d sacrifice my body If it meant I’d get the Jack part out”

always makes me think of “If I could pull the blood of you from my veins and give it back, I would.” Also,

“But if you listen/ You’ll learn to hear the difference/ Between the halfs and the half nots”

reminds me of her asking Percy if she looks like she comes from money — or a younger Vex, in Syngorn, gradually realizing why everyone looked down on her and Vax. Lastly, isn’t “I see my mother in my face/ But only when I travel” absolutely heartbreaking for her?

Fall Down or Fly, Lindi Ortega, only partly because Lindi Ortega strongly resembles my headcanon for Vex. The other part is because of my abiding love for how Vex learned to fly, and how that worked with her character arc: from the first time, in the Briarwoods arc, that she discovered her love for flying, to her flaunting convention and stealing the broom, to Percy modifying it for her, to her friends cheering her on with chicken target practice, and finally to her soaring through the skies with confidence. And the song captures that so well for me, as well as her decision to keep going even when her father, Saundor’s words, and her own self-doubt bring her down:

“This is your life/ You can fall down or fly/ You can burn out a shot if you want/ This is your life/ You can live it or die/ You can quit now or try if you want/ But don’t you give up, don’t you give up”

This also reminds me of how much all of Vox Machina adores and supports Vex (and I will join them in crying about how awesome she is):

“You said what is there to lose?/ Do it if you choose/ I got faith in you/ Everything you do/ I know you are gonna make it to the top”

(I also maintain that a modern Vex would be really into country music, particularly the genre of country song in which women tell people to fuck off.)

Vox Machina

Call Them Brothers, Regina Spektor feat. Only Son, for Scanlan’s departure from Vox Machina and the whole team’s attempts to deal with it. I first heard this song in an absolutely heartbreaking TAZ animatic, and my pain increased exponentially when I realized how much it also worked for Critical Role. It’s perfect, in my opinion, for the sense that their family, which has seen them through so much, is irreparably broken — “That’s it, it’s split, it won’t recover/ Just frame the halves and call them brothers.”

But then you also get “Over and over, they call us their friends/ Can’t we find something else to pretend?” for Scanlan’s insistence that Vox Machina doesn’t really care about him, and “Find your fathers and your mothers/ If you remember who they are” for “what’s my mother’s name?”

Maybe this should go on Scanlan’s playlist, but I think “The hunt is on, everyone’s chasing a shot” also works for the way that the rest of Vox Machina independently searched for Scanlan during their year of downtime… and the feelings of defeat in the song just feel appropriate to the whole group.

(I actually have a playlist full of songs for episode 85, because I enjoy making myself sad; it took a lot of effort not to put them all here.)

Freaks, The Hawk in Paris: I can never decide whether this is a Mighty Nein or Vox Machina song, but I’m putting it here mostly because “If you come along with us, the doors are never ending” is absolutely hilarious in for Vox Machina’s single greatest enemy.

That, and there are a lot of lines that work for individual members of the group: “We have a flair for the shade and the inbetween” (Vax); “We like to run with the wolves from the darker scene” (Keyleth); “When we turn the safety off, the shots are automatic” (Percy); “All our friends tell their friends we’re so dramatic” (Scanlan); and “We’ll make you swoon, make it hurt just a little” (Vex).

Additionally, “We have a plan, we’ve got the means for your liberation/ You’ll only have to blur the lines on a few occasions” makes me think of the Briarwood arc, and I makes me think of Percy dramatically revealing his identity to the priest — and cut to Grog pulling out a guy’s tongue.

Anyways, if I learn to make AMVs by the time that the animated series is released, this will be the first that I’ll make.

Beauregard

Saint Simon, The Shins, for Beau’s escape from the Cobalt Soul. The song expresses frustration at weighty intellectualism and how much it doesn’t teach you — which i think is something Beau felt strongly with her monk teachers:

“After all these implements and texts designed by intellects/ So vexed to find, evidently there’s still so much that hides […] Since I don’t have time nor mind to figure out the nursery rhymes/ That helped us out in making sense of our lives”

So she tries not to care about anything because it’s safer that way (“The cruel, uneventful state of apathy releases me”), and she runs away:

“I’ll try hard not to give in, batten down to fare the wind/ Rid my head of this pretence, allow myself no mock defence/ Step into the night”

I think the last part of the song could also work for her meeting the Mighty Nein and starts understanding friendship and love: “Mercy’s eyes are blue when she places them in front of you/ Nothing really holds a candle to the solemn warmth you feel inside you.”

Jonas and Ezekiel, Indigo Girls, because what kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t put at least one gay-written song on Beau’s playlist? This one is about road trips, wandering, and looking for a purpose:

“I left my anger in a river running Highway 5 New Hampshire, Vermont, bordered by College farms, hubcaps, and falling rocks Voices in the woods and the mountaintops”

But also contains one verse that I think fits her strict family, her new family in the Mighty Nein, and the “devils” — or tieflings — of which her family would certainly not approve:

“Now when I was young my people taught me well/ Give back what you take or you’ll go to hell/ It’s not the devil’s land, you know it’s not that kind/ Every devil I meet becomes a friend of mine/ Every devil I meet is an angel in disguise”

And something about this reminds me of her journey into Xhorhas and attempts to uncover conspiracies and work out the truth: “In the war over land where the world began/ Prophecies say it’s where the world will end.”

Caduceus

Born at the Right Time, Paul Simon, for Caduceus’s belief in destiny and his place therein. The chorus describes his occasional naïveté, and the happiness of his life in the Blooming Grove, with his family:

“Never been lonely Never been lied to Never had to scuffle in fear Nothing denied to”

And then gets into his conviction that his goddess and the world itself put him where he is:

“Born at the instant/ The church bells chime/ And the whole world whispering/ Born at the right time”

The very chill vibe of the song is also very Clay, to me.

Happy All the Time, Danny Schmidt: the singer himself has said that he doesn’t know whether or not this song is ironic and/or melancholic, so I’m going to go with a sincere and cheerful interpretation for Caduceus, with maybe a hint of nostalgia for more peaceful days among his family. It’s got some incredibly lush and occasionally strange nature imagery that I think is perfect for him:

“I took the time to breathe cause I was happy all the time/ Among the rootbuds and the weeds cause I was happy all the time/ But the peat moss and the leaves took turns with both my feet/ Until my toes took root and I was happy, I was happy all the time”

I think Caduceus is still happy, but he was definitely at peace as a hermit.

Caleb

I Miss That Feeling, Tennis: a song about panic attacks and how the physical effects, when described, almost seem like falling in love. It works not only for Caleb’s panic attacks, but also, relatedly, his relationship with fire, which scares him, even as he likes the way it feels — “Something like pleasure, you’d never believe it.”

The fiery way that the singer describes panic attacks is also very Caleb:

“I miss that feeling/ Flicker hot and hovering/ Like my own discovering/ Eagerly, tenderly/ I miss that feeling/ Flicker spread into an itch/ Into a burn, into a twitch/ Slow and even”

It brings me back to the first time we saw it, in the gnoll mines. Also, “Every little thing starts trembling/ Recorded by the needle of an EKG” feels very reminiscent of his hospitalization, though from a modern perspective.

Putting the Dog to Sleep, The Antlers, for Caleb’s very tentative trust in the Mighty Nein, and in particular his friendship with Beau. I think this song really encapsulates Caleb’s pain and skittishness, especially near the beginning of their campaign, as well as his desperation (unknown even to himself) to love again:

“Well, prove to me I’m not gonna die alone/ Unstitch that shit I’ve sewn/ To close up the hole that tore through my skin/ Well my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg/ Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in”

And this feels like something that Beau would say to Caleb — upfront and caring all at the same time, reminding him that his actions affect everyone else and asking him not to run:

“You said, ‘I can’t prove to you you’re not gonna die alone/ But trust me to take you home/ To clean up that blood all over your paws/ You can’t keep running out […] Kicking yourself in the head/ Because you’re kicking me too.’”

By the end of the song, Caleb is starting to believe her, and even asking her to trust him: “Put your trust in me/ I’m not gonna die alone… I don’t think so…”

Fjord

Release the Kraken, The Daysleepers: I added this to Fjord’s playlist back when everyone was speculating that his patron was something kraken-like, and even now that this is clearly not the case, I think it still works for Uk’otoa (Uk’otoa) and his attempts at freedom: “It pulled the ships down/ It’s rising from the deep below.”

But also for Fjord’s relationship with Avantika — for his attempts to get close to her in order to save himself and his friends:

“Turn the lights down Careful as a serpent’s tongue Move without a sound Gentle as the cold wind moans”

I think “When you sold love/ Your heart becomes a monster” is some of what Fjord felt after those encounters: like he gave part of himself away.

21st Century Child, Daggy Man, for Fjord’s self-hatred and the masks he puts on. Many of the lyrics could fit several characters (particularly Beau, Caleb, and Scanlan), but

“I hate the sound of myself/ When I’m being honest/ Sounds like somebody else/ And I don’t wanna listen/ To the whinings of a 21st century child”

just perfectly captures his feelings about his voice and his past self — weak and whiny, and not who he wants to be. And then we get these lines, which feel like a good summary of his issues with identity and deception:

“And I’ve struggled with how/ Others perceive me/ And I can’t tell if I’m better/ Or just better at deceiving And I’ll keep going until I’m called out”

Jester

The Sweetest Sounds, Ella Fitzgerald (cover of Richard Rodgers), for pre-stream Jester barely waiting for her exciting life to begin. I first heard this song in Rodger & Hammerstein’s Cinderella, and while there is something fairy-tale-like about Jester, I think this upbeat, jazzy cover fits her well:

“The most entrancing sight of all Is yet for me to see And the dearest love in all the world Is waiting somewhere for me”

I can just imagine a 10-year-old Jester listening to the band at the Lavish Chateau play this song, dressing up in Marion’s clothes, and pretending she’s in a storybook romance.

One Hand in my Pocket, Alanis Morissette, which really captures her beautiful complexity:

“I’m free, but I’m focused/ I’m green, but I’m wise/ I’m hard, but I’m friendly/ I’m sad, but I’m laughing”

because Jester is so many things all at once, and none of them negate each other. It’s so hopeful (“What it all comes down to/ Is that everything’s gonna be quite alright”) and comforting (“What it all boils down to/ Is that no one’s really got it figured out just yet”) in a way that really reminds me of my favourite blue cleric.

The whole song has such a fun, free, summer vibe that always makes me smile — just like Jester.

Mollymauk

Carnival Overture, Antonín Dvořák (Leonard Bernstein & New York Philharmonic Orchestra): one of my favourite pieces of classical music ever — when I hear it, an entire music video about a carnival plays in my head. The exuberant theme that bowls you over from the start reminds me of Molly’s effervescent, ostentatious personality.

The slower and quieter part in the middle with the violin and woodwind solos gives me a picture of Molly and Yasha sitting alone in the evenings just outside the carnival encampment, cuddled together — Yasha talking about her wife, Molly telling jokes, and the both of them making up names for constellations and flowers. Then the quick-paced minor section makes me think of the bloodhunter tiefling in combat, deadly with his swords and vicious mockery — before the return to the joyful, triumphant original theme.

Wonderful Everyday, Chance the Rapper & The Social Experiment**: this is sort of a cover of the Arthur theme song, but in the absolute best way possible. The meandering, loose, and extraordinarily happy vocals always remind me of Molly’s way of living.

Although some of the lyrics are more optimistic than Molly (I think he’d laugh at “Everybody that you meet/ Has an original point of view” and say that their points of view are usually bullshit), the message of appreciating every single day is just wonderful for him.

And the last bit hits me like a ton of bricks:

“And when I go down/ I'ma go down swinging/ My eyes still smiling/ And my heart still singing”

“Eyes never shut,” indeed.

**not on Spotify, sorry!

Nott

The Sore Feet Song, Ally Kerr: at first it appears to be a simple song about traveling long distances to find your love, which certainly describes Nott’s search for Yeza: “I walked ten thousand miles, ten thousand miles to see you/ And every gasp of breath I grabbed at just to find you.”

But the second verse is where it really gets into Nott’s thieving, rat-eating, badass ways:

“I stole ten thousand pounds, ten thousand pounds to see you I robbed convenient stores cause I thought they’d make it easier I lived off rats and toads, and I starved for you I fought off giants bears and I killed them too”

I love this strange little goblin.

Fox in the Snow, Belle & Sebastian: this song has always been a bit of a mystery to me, but the lyrics remind me of Nott’s intense vulnerability after she was transformed into a goblin — and in particular her self-image as something animalistic:

“Fox in the snow, where do you go/ To find something you could eat?/ Because the word out on the street is you are starving/ Don’t let yourself grow hungry now/ Don’t let yourself grow cold”

The second verse, which switches to describing a human girl, reminds me of pre-transformation Veth, more acceptable in body but no less socially ostracized than Nott:

“Girl in the snow, where do you go/ To find someone that will do?/ To tell someone all the truth before it kills you/ Listen to your crazy laugh/ Before you hang a right/ And disappear from sight/ What do they know anyway?”

I can just see that exact scene play out with a young Veth, right down to the “crazy laugh.” I’m glad she found Yeza, but she must still have been pretty lonely without any other friends.

Yasha

Into the Barrens, Grizfolk, for Yasha’s years of blank wandering after Zuala’s death. This song fits Yasha so well that for months, I somehow tricked myself into believing that Ashley had put it on her playlist. But I feel like this encapsulates her hopeless feelings, away from all society, not living for anything or anyone:

“Cast me away, my shadow’s cold/ Into the barrens where I will grow old/ Well, I’m not looking for answers/ And I’m not looking for gold”

And I can see this verse for the beginning of her relationship with the Stormlord, following voices she can’t understand as she wanders, barely alive:

“The voices in my head/ They echo in the wind and I begin to sway/ I follow what they say/ I can’t see their eyes, but I hear howling through the haze”

Dreams, Fleetwood Mac: technically a break-up song, but I can’t help but think of Yasha’s ever-present guilt and her memories of Zuala when I hear:

“Listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness/ Like a heartbeat drives you mad/ In the stillness of remembering what you had/ And what you lost”

The storm imagery also works for Yasha — “When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know” makes me think of her fight with the Stormlord on the boat, which allowed her to open up to her friends. And it touches on Yasha’s opaque dreams (“Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions/ I keep my visions to myself”).

(Ally and Stevie also have a lesbian mash-up of Dreams and Rhiannon, two of the gayest Fleetwood Mac songs, that I associate strongly with Beauyasha.)

Mighty Nein

Old Black Train, The Blasting Company (from Over the Garden Wall): trains don’t exist in Exandria (yet! — Percy or Taryon should get on that) but this is more of a metaphor for life. It reminds me of the Mighty Nein setting out from Alfield, not knowing the twists and turns they were going to face, the places they’d go, nor the family they’d become:

“This journey is a long one/ It will take you all around/ Life rushing by your window/ Before it lays you down”

Then there’s this verse:

“Oh come on now young stranger/ Weren’t you someone’s son? How’d you find this depot 'Cause it ain’t where you belong”

which feels very appropriate for many members of the Mighty Nein, separated as they are from their families and wandering in lands that aren’t welcoming to them. There’s also a verse that’s reminiscent of the graveyard they passed on the way to Zadash, which more and more feels like a portent of things to come:

“You will pass a graveyard/ Stones worn by the years/ The train’ll stop a minute but don’t let it leave you here”

Sailing, Leisure Cruise: another song about transportation, although this one is a little less metaphorical. As you can probably guess, I associate it with their adventures on the Mystake and the Ball Eater, which begun by total accident but which, in my opinion, was a turning point for the group, and ultimately helped them grow closer together:

“And to our surprise we’re sailing The high seas in the middle of the ocean […] We’re sailing the wildest mystery And to our surprise we’re happy and free”

Okay, so maybe “happy and free” is a bit of an exaggeration for that arc (particularly for poor Nott) but I think there were a lot of moments in which the Mighty Nein learned unexpected lessons about themselves.

And I think this is a good summary of the Mighty Nein’s modus operandi: seize every passing opportunity, because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring:

“Maybe it’s today Maybe it’s tomorrow But we have to make a play Or the chance will fade away”

And that’s a wrap! Thanks for listening and reading. Love you all <3

#critical role #Cr music #my stuff

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