#there's only one recording of it from a backyard performance

[kissitbttr]

omg can i ask for reader and miguel’s baby turning 1, and they celebrate the birthday, like how kylie jenner did for her precious babygirl stormi🥹 like miguel getting his precious daughter large toys, lots of performers, large bouncy houses, blasting spanish music, and cutting the cake, i really hope u see this ask🥹🥹

side note: ur like my fav tumblr fanfic writer rn, you’re so gorgeous and i hope you have a good day🩷🩷

AAA THIS IS A VERY CUTE IDEA ANONNNN

my note: i am?? *gasps* you're so sweet!! i am so honored my lovieeee!! thank you so much🥺

-

one thing. she has only asked miguel for one thing and he just dismissed her like that!

the two of them had previously discussed in matters of their baby girl's upcoming birthday, and she had told--no-- threatened him to keep things simple and baby-proof,

guess, she should've known that he was prone to never really listen

"you are so. dead, o'hara" she grumbles, scanning over the party decorations in their backyard. the twenty-ish big pink presents put neatly in the corner, a princess castle bouncy house, a DJ deck, and food catering?

there are already people stopping by and busying themselves at the party, she finds a couple familiar faces like peter, jess, even the kids gwen and miles.

he puts his hands up in defense, staring at her with a playful smile. "I know I know I went a little bit overboard--"

"a little?!"

"but querida, come on" he snakes his hands around her waist, tugging her closer but her eyes aren't even on him. "it's our baby girl's first birthday-- I had to give her all"

"what would a baby need a DJ deck for anyway?" she asks with a frown,

''we can set it aside and use it for a band.. i already have two ready for the party"

her jaw drops open. "a band?!"

''ay okay stop with the dramatic expressions, princesa" he chuckles, kissing her forehead.

shaking her head, she replies "you already got her two barbie houses, a pink range rover for kids, brand new stuffed animals that look like they escaped from the damn zoo, Disneyland tickets and a cinderella's carriage baby crib... you spoil her too much"

he shrugs, "like i told you... she's my baby"

"and how much have you spent for all of that, hm?"

he envelopes her hands between his, kissing the knuckles to ease her. "don't worry about that. got too much money in my bank account and I will use it to spoil the fuck out of both of you."

a light smile spreads across her face. "she wouldn't even remember half of this miggy, you know that?"

"we'll record it and everything" he shrugs, looking around the party feeling proud of his work. "I want her to have the best birthday ever. not just this but the next one and the next one and the next"

she can't help but feel her heart soften. he is so full of love every time he talks about their baby, an ultimate girl dad.

"i can't imagine what you will do for her quinceanera"

he winces at that, head shaking at the thought. "don't remind me. i want our baby girl to stay little forever"

she chuckles at that, standing on her tippy toes to kiss his chin. "what an amazing father you are, my love"

his cheeks warm at the compliment, glancing down at her to give her a grateful smile. one that speaks how glad he is to have her by his side, to call her his, to hear those words coming from her lips.

the sound of a precious giggle distracts them both, craning their heads toward the source of the sound and seeing jess holding their baby girl in her arms. dressed in a pretty pink dress with tiara on top

y/n reaches out to make grabby hands at jess. "hello pretty girl! gimme gimme" picking sofia from jess's grip, earning a cute giggle from her,

"she couldn't stop pulling at peter's hair-- your baby's got quite a grip" she mentions before walking away with a smile,

miguel snorts at that, silently patting himself on the back for what his baby had done,

cradling her closer to her chest, y/n fakes a gasp. "eso hizo, no es asi? uncle peter probably deserved it"

sofia babbles more, clapping her chubby hands at the two of them. miguel chuckles at the baby's cute antics and the way his wife talks in a baby voice,

a lucky bastard he is,

"daddy did this all for you, mamas-- aren't you happy? yeah?" she coos once more, bringing sofia closer to Miguel,

''come here pretty girl" miguel's hands move to grab her tiny body, picking her from his wife's grip. a sigh of contentment escapes from his lips. "my little princess... aren't you the prettiest baby I have ever seen, hm? you got that from your mami"

y/n eyes the interaction between the two of them, her finger moves to sofia's hand which she grips it.

"she is so fluffy.. we have a chunky baby"

miguel frowns, feigning a fake offensive look. "you calling our baby fat, mi amor?"

rolling your eyes, you scoff at him. "she's cute like this... i like it..." she gives a loud smooch on her baby's cheek making her giggle more,

miguel bobs sofia lightly in his embrace, inhaling the scent of her shampoo while keeping his eyes on y/n.

none of this was ever planned. miguel had no clue that being married and having a baby would be on his bucket list. if someone would've told him four years ago that he would eventually settle down and have a family, he would tell that person to fuck off and how crazy that idea sounds. because marriage wasn't his thing,

but now? he would kill the entire universe for his girls

"what are you thinking, papi?" she asks, head tilting in curiosity when his eyes won't move away from her,

he stays silent for a moment, pressing his cheek against sofia's head as she toys with the collar of his shirt,

"vamos a tener a otro bebe" [let's have another baby]

-

i hope this is okay!! xx

[hardcandycigarette]

Chubby Hubby

TW this dicusses body image issues. Please dont read if this will upset you in any way. I will always want what's best for you

This is soft, fluff but with body image disucssion.

Despite the tears in Harry's eyes as he waved goodbye to the crowd in Reggio Emilia, he had no doubt that his heart was filled with love, gratitude, sadness and joy. The final performance of Love On Tour was his last time bidding farewell to his fans. He wasn't sure when he would see them again, and that left a hollow in his heart. But it was finally time for him to take a break. And after 169 performances, two movies, press tours, and so much more it would be a well-deserved break. Night after night, he'd danced and stomped and sang his heart out across state after state and country after country. When he traveled he’d forget what time zone he was in sometimes. All the while, he kept a strict diet and even had his personal trainer beside him to keep him motivated. Later, once the crowd was long gone and the spotlight faded, he stood at the edge of the stage. His  heart was pounding from the adrenaline rush of his last performance. The deafening roar of the crowd still reverberated in his ears, a testament to his fans' fervent adoration. It was the closing act of his world tour, the culmination of more than two years of tireless dedication and unwavering passion.

As he went backstage to celebrate with his friends, family, bandmates and crew Harry couldn't help but feel a profound sense of accomplishment wash over him. The whirlwind of the tour, with its endless rehearsals and countless performances, was an exhilarating journey. However, now, with the final curtain call behind him, he looked forward to the tranquility of home.

        ***

Once he was back in the sanctuary of his home, Harry relaxed in the newfound freedom that came with the end of the tour. No more early wake-up calls or grueling soundchecks; now, he could relax in the simple pleasures of life. Enjoying the fruits of his labor after a decade of non-stop work, he'd finally decided to take a real break. Not a break in order to write and record an album and plan a release and tour, but a real proper break from all the noise.

One morning with a contented sigh, Harry poured himself a cup of coffee and settled on a stool at the kitchen island. The warm morning sun filtered through the windows. He surveyed the array of breakfast delights laid out before him - stacks of fluffy pancakes, butter, maple syrup, hashbrowns, and perfectly scrambled eggs.

"Morning, love," Y/N's voice broke through the peaceful silence as she entered the kitchen. Her presence was a welcome sight to Harry's eyes. She leaned in to kiss him softly. Harry smiled. "I made breakfast. Aren't you proud of me?"

"Sure but I'll really be proud to see you clean up the mess." She giggled, shaking her head as she poured her coffee.

Y/N sat beside Harry at the island. She caressed the nape of his neck, content to have her husband with her at breakfast without scarfing down his food before darting out the door.

But this morning they were in heaven. Each bite was a symphony of flavors, a celebration of the decadence Harry had denied himself during the rigors of the tour. They ate in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinking of cutlery against plates.

And the days passed just like that leisurely breakfasts, playing with the dog in the backyard, quiet afternoons lounging in front of the tv with a bevy of snacks laid out before them. They went to pizza parties with their kids' classes. Life as a couple and family was real and routine. Gone were the days of constant travel, demanding schedules, and the pressure to perform. Instead, Harry and Y/N reveled in the simplicity and stability of their routine, cherishing each peaceful moment together and relishing in the ordinary joys of everyday life.

One lazy afternoon, as Harry was changing his clothes, an unease crept over him. He glanced at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. His gaze lingered at the subtle changes in his physique. The once-defined muscles were now soft, his abs obscured beneath the slightest bit of untoned muscle. Most likely no one noticed. Any other person in the world would have to work years just like Harry had to work to maintain the body he had now, much less the body he had when he was on tour. He feared losing what  he had worked so hard for during his time on tour. It lingered in the back of his mind, making him question his self-image and his ability to maintain the same level of physical fitness.

The self-doubt gnawed at Harry's insides as he studied his reflection, his mind plagued by insecurities. He was always proud of his appearance, but now, faced with the undeniable evidence of his body's imperfections, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Lost in his thoughts, Harry swiftly dressed himself when footsteps approached. Soon Y/N appeared in the doorway. Her brow furrowed with concern as she observed his troubled expression.

"Hey, love," she said softly, crossing the room to stand beside him in front of the mirror. "What's on your mind?"

Harry hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the doubts that plagued him. But Y/N, ever perceptive, reached out to gently caress his cheek. He leaned into her touch, something that always comforted him.

"You seem distant," she observed, her eyes searching his for answers. "Is everything okay?"

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping as he struggled to find the right words. "I don't know," he confessed. His voice cracked. "I just... I feel like I've let myself go, you know? Like I'm not the same person I used to be."

Y/N's heart melted at Harry's vulnerability. She knew all too well the pressure he faced to maintain a certain image in the unforgiving world of show business. "What sweetie? What's wrong?"

He lifted his shirt to just above the butterfly tattoo on his torso. "This." He looked down and tried to pinch even a single inch of skin.

"Babe you're gonna have to explain. I don't get it."

He sighed and looked down. "This. M' stomach, it's going to hell."

Y/N giggled. "What? That? That teeny tiny bit of skin you're desperately trying to pinch?"

"Yeah. Getting chubby. Look at it."

"You are absolutely gorgeous, Harry Styles," she insisted. "Every inch of you, inside and out."

He shook his head. "No, 'm gettin' a dad bod. Next thing you know, the tabloids will talk about how I've let m'self go. And they'll be right Y/N, they will be. Look at me."

Her beautiful husband was on the verge of tears. She tilted his chin to look at her. "Listen to me, okay. You are gorgeous, and yes your body is different, since you actually enjoy life now. You don't kill yourself dancing and running and working out non-stop five hours a day. You eat things you love, not rabbit food. We drink wine on the patio or do tequila shots while we slow dance in the kitchen. We order takeaway and take walks instead of jogging. We spend time together, and relax and read books till 2 in the morning. The two of us spend time getting to know each other again. Question. When I had the girls each time I complained and cried about my body, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"And what did you tell me?"

He lifted his head again so his eyes met hers. "Told you you were the most beautiful fucking woman I'd ever seen. Told you a little bit of extra skin, or your boobs or the scale had nothing to do with any of that. And I told you, that body had given me two beautiful daughters and I wouldn't trade it for the world's most perfect amazing body. I told you that it was perfect to me because that body belonged to you, and I love you more than anything in this world."

She smiled and kissed him. "Correct. And all of that is true when I look at you. Honestly, I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't brought it up. Now, I'm not telling you how to feel about yourself because I can't dictate to you what to feel. What I can tell you is that if you aren't happy with it you can easily fix it, but it doesn't matter to me. The fact that I can wake up with you every morning and go to bed with you every night is one of my favorite things. That I can smell your body wash seeping through the shower door. I can sit in the garden with you and watch the girls play. If you want to switch back to a stricter diet or cut back on something or go to the gym more days a week I'm okay with that. All I care about is you."

"But look at me," he protested, gesturing towards his reflection in the mirror. "I've got... I don't know, a dad bod or something."Harry couldn't shake the nagging fear that Y/N might no longer find him as attractive. He worried that without the stage lights and the adoring crowds, he was just an ordinary man with ordinary flaws.

She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "Guess what stud? You are a dad. You're a man. A man who plays tea party with his girls, builds forts, and teaches them to swim. You're a man who loves his family. Nothing is more meaningful than that, nothing. Get it?"

He grinned, revealing gorgeous dimples. "Got it." He nodded before kissing her.

"Harry," she murmured. "You are perfect exactly as you are. Your body tells the story of all the incredible experiences we've shared together. Every laugh, every adventure - it's all written there, etched into your skin, just like those tattoos are a roadmap of your life. Nothing has changed. Nothing."

Harry felt warmth spread through his chest at Y/N's words. In her eyes, he found the acceptance and reassurance he so desperately sought. This was a reminder that his worth was not defined by the number of abs on his stomach. He thought about the encouraging words he'd given fans through the years. Having a few extra pounds would not disappoint them. They'd be disappointed if he didn't see what they saw, what his wife and friends and family saw.

With a grateful smile, Harry leaned in to press a soft kiss against Y/N's lips, his heart so grateful for the woman who saw him for who he truly was. Together, they settled into an embrace, his chin resting on her head. He was content in the wonderfully human moments they shared.

With Y/N by his side, Harry explored new hobbies and interests, finding joy in the simple pleasures of everyday life. They spent lazy afternoons picnicking in the sun-drenched gardens of their home, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of flowers and the sound of laughter. They had time to delve back into their shared passions for the world like art and literature. They lost themselves in timeless classics and discovered new expression in every brushstroke and word. They took day trips to lakes and farms, teaching their children about the beauty of the world around them.

However, some days the doubts still plagued him. Despite Y/N's reassurances, he couldn't help but question if he was enough. He wondered if he would ever truly measure up to the impossible standards of beauty and perfection that seemed to govern his world.

One evening, as they sat curled up together on the balcony, watching the sun dip below the horizon in a blaze of fiery hues, Harry voiced his fears to Y/N once more.

"Do you ever feel like... like you're not enough?" he asked, breaking the peaceful silence. "Like no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to live up to everyone's expectations?"

Y/N turned to him, her eyes soft and understanding. "All the time," she admitted.  "But Harry, you don't have to be flawless. You just have to be you. And to me, you're more than enough."

He knew it was finally time to let it go. He knew the world was unpredictable and someone always had an opinion. The goalpost was always moving. And just like every other time the world commented on him he would take it in stride. "I've been so happy with you and the girls, so fucking happy. I can't let some ridiculous standard set by complete strangers take that away. The world has gotten enough of my time and energy. It's time that all be given to you and the kids. Yes, I think I'll hit the gym a bit more and lay off the cakes and bread a bit, but I'm not gonna quit being happy because of something I'm telling myself that isn’t even true." In that moment, he was determined to no longer be defined by others' expectations, that real happiness lay in embracing his authentic self, flaws and all.

With Y/N's love as his guiding light, Harry embarked on a journey of self-discovery, exploring the depths of his own soul and finding beauty in the imperfections that made him uniquely himself. He began to see himself through new eyes, recognizing the strength and resilience within him, waiting to be unleashed. He accepted that if a woman like Y/N could think he was amazing then he had to be because she was perfection in every way to him.

As the months passed they made new memories. They embraced the challenges and triumphs of life with open hearts and open minds, facing each new day with courage and love.

One day as Harry looked into the mirror he no longer saw flaws to be hidden or masked. Instead, he saw a man who was imperfect, yes, but also deeply loved and profoundly happy. He saw a man who had weathered storms and emerged stronger on the other side. He knew he was exactly where he was meant to be: in the arms of the woman who loved him, flaws and all.

And though the world around them may be fickle and fleeting, their love remained constant, an unbreakable bond.

[piratefishmama]

You're writing is godly. Can you take a shot at

09.  “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.”

Writing Prompts | No longer accepting new prompts

It was the first time in ten years that Steve Harrington had seen Eddie Munson in person, and it was from what felt like miles away in shitty seats up on the balconies, the only saving grace was that Eddie was being tracked like prey by the camera guys, each step, each sway of his hair, each manic, dimpled, toothy grin blown up larger than life on the big screens on either side of the stage. The rest of the band blown up on the ones in the back.

He wasn’t looking at the ones in the back, although the guys suited being up there.

“Steve… he’s uh… Eddie I mean, corroded coffin, they’re playing, y’know? In Indy? Dustin got tickets, but… well they’re not the best tickets, nothing VIP or close to the pit or anything, I don’t think Eddie even knows Dustin’s going, but… we could at least go and see him perform…” it’d been Robin that’d mentioned it, none of them had seen Eddie in person.

He kept in touch when he could with Dustin and his little adventurers, Lucas, Mike, and Erica. But he’d left Hawkins behind with nothing there to hold him back.

There could have been.

Steve knew there could have been, Eddie had told him the night before he’d packed his stuff and left, bore his heart to him in his backyard, hair haloed by the blue light that shimmered off of the pool, nervous but hopeful, he’d offered his heart on a silver platter and Steve… god…

He hadn’t known.

He hadn’t known just how much Eddie meant to him until he was gone, off to stardom with his band, leaving a possible life behind for something else. Could have, should have, would have, it made no difference in the end. Steve had said no when he really meant he needed time to work out his feelings, he’d shut down the possibility before it could grow, and had regretted it ever since.

Eddie had been gone by the following morning, he’d only said goodbye to the kids. Apparently there’d been a record deal offered at his last gig, and his choice depended entirely on whether or not Steve said yes.

Part of him wished he’d have been selfish, part of him wished he’d known his own heart before he’d stupidly let the rejection slip out, things would have been different… but then… Eddie wouldn’t have had this.

He wouldn’t have had a stage, an audience of thousands cheering for him in awe. He would’ve been stuck, in Hawkins, a place that still hated him… Steve was happy for him, truly. Happy that he’d made it, even if it meant Steve could never have him. He could stomp around the stage dressed in denim and leather and shred on a guitar in a way that made Steve’s ears ring but his heart happy, he’d never be tied down to a place that hated him.

He'd never be stuck where the past could haunt him. He could be happy even if Steve couldn’t.

The gig was amazing though, even if Steve stook out like a sore thumb, he’d done his best, wore a little eyeliner, mussed up his hair, he wore Eddie’s old battle vest with the blood stains still visible cause he’d never been able to get them out and Eddie had never taken it back, had seen Steve still had it after they’d won and claimed “it looks better on you anyway” he still looked like someone’s out of place dad, but he was surrounded by the party so, it didn’t matter. Nobody was paying attention to him, nobody was looking for him, Eddie wouldn’t see him from so far away, probably couldn’t even see the row in front of his face with the lights shining on him so brightly.

And yet near the end of the concert, while the band were wrapping up on their final song (before the inevitable encore the audience demanded of them, Dustin claimed it’d probably wind up being Upside Down, or Pariah, two songs he’d always claimed had been inspired by ‘his past’ from the bands last album, they were fan favourites.) A burly guy dressed in a black crew neck with a big white ‘SECURITY’ stretched over his broad chest, flagged him down.

Steve motioned to his ears, he couldn’t hear shit over the music, and could barely hear shit on a regular day, but that particular security guard, simply signed the words:

‘Not in trouble, come with me.’ confidently, as if he knew Steve would understand it. Only when Steve frowned in confusion and signed back

‘why’ did the guy thrust his thumb over into the stage’s direction. The band.

Steve, feeling suspicious, turned to look toward the party, only to find Dustin giving him a thumbs up, and Robin making shoo motions with her hands. Scheming little shits knew he wouldn’t think twice about attending if the seats were so far away. Would think it was safe, that he wouldn’t have to face Eddie. Face his terrible decision that worked out for one of them but not the other.

He wouldn’t have to find himself waiting backstage in a quiet room behind a door labelled ‘Talent’ because of course he’d go. His traitorous legs and heart would force him to go at the mere chance of seeing Eddie again, of seeing him up close, of talking to him, of the chance to fix a mistake he’d made years ago even if his new answer wouldn’t change anything between them. It’d been too long, Eddie wouldn’t still want him when he could have anyone.

If they had told him, he wouldn’t have to see Eddie, quietly (a word not many used to describe the man) enter, his back facing Steve as he closed the door just as quietly as he’d entered. His hair was longer.

The curls fuller, they reached down to his mid-back now and glistened with a mixture of product and sweat, Steve still wanted to touch, still mourned the fact that he’d never gotten the chance to.

“Y’know… When ol Dusty bun said he’d get you here… I wish I’d have believed him. I owe him 20 bucks now.”

“You bet on me coming?” Of course he did.

Eddie turned to face him, a small wistful smile on his cheeks that just hinted the presence of dimples. “Wouldn’t you if you were in my place? Steeeeve Harrington, at a metal concert? Pfft, seems a bit farfetched. You even dressed up too, shit, man, I guess that’s forty bucks. Vest still suits you more.” Steve let his head duck down a little, his cheeks warming under the mans gaze, unsure of the feeling within it. He didn’t know Eddie anymore…

Had he ever really known Eddie though? Had he ever given them chance to know each other outside of sharing trauma and comparing matching scars?

“…Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why am I back here, Eddie? Why’d you call me back here? Why not the party, they’re here too, they’d probably wanna see you too, it’s been years… why?”

“Ah. Dustin told me to, said I should have another go at something I tried years ago that didn’t pan out very well for me the first time around… has been chatting my ear off about it every time he calls… I guess I finally humoured him.” Something he tried years ago? Involving Steve? “Listen, Steve… I—”

Steve cut in, he shouldn’t have, but words just… had to burst from him driven by a flickering ember of hope, he had to, even if it wasn’t the path Eddie’s words were taking, he had to, with hope driving him on “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” Eddie’s mouth shut, his head tilting to the side a little in uncertain interest “I didn’t know… I should have just told you, I didn’t… I wasn’t sure, shit, Eddie… I’d never… you—I’d never felt like… like that for a guy before… I didn’t know what it meant, I should have said—I should have told you that I just needed more time… that I wasn’t ready to answer but… but I didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t know you’d be gone by the time I woke up. By the time I realised I was wrong, you were gone.” He wanted time, but his words had come out wrong.

He’d stumbled through them like he stumbled through everything, struggled to get the right words out and they’d wound up wrong. So so very wrong. “And you didn’t think to call?”

“Heh, you were on your way to fame, Eddie and you didn’t exactly leave a number, Dustin told me you had a chance at stardom… why would I want to weigh you down? Where would I fit in in this life of yours, Eddie? I’m no one, you could have anyone.”

“Mmn, anyone. Even if the one I want believes himself to be no one?” Hope burned brighter, its embers brilliant and warm. “So… can I try again? Or was Dustin wrong?”

“Did you make a bet with him about this too?”

“Absolutely, I’d owe him two hundred bucks if he’s right.”

“Would it be worth it if I said try again?”

“God, Sunshine, I’d drain my entire bank account right into that little buttheads pocket without a care in the world if it meant he was right… i never stopped...” Eddie stepped closer, "I never stopped wanting... even though I wished for the longest time that I could stop... it's always been you, Steve..." now close enough to be within reach, his voice quiet but hopeful “so... is he right? Should I try again?”

“…Please try again.” This time… he wouldn’t be saying no.

[prettyoddfever]

the sun/moon theory doesn’t actually make sense

The pictures above are from 9/23/06, which was the only time that Ryan wore blue makeup at the same time that Brendon wore yellow makeup. The guys weren’t the ones who came up with their look, either. That makeup came from Pieter M van Hattem’s heavily styled photoshoot earlier that day and then the band wore the leftover makeup to the Boost Mobile RockCorps performance. 

Now fast forward almost a year to when they were working on Pretty. Odd. songs...

The Pretty. Odd. lyrics had a lot of weather references because the band wrote most of the album while sitting in Ryan’s backyard on drugs and looking at clouds or whatever you see at night in the desert. Brendon told the Boston Globe that “I’m sure if the weather was really horrible, [the new album] might’ve sounded different. It definitely needed to be what it was for us to write those songs.” Brendon also said: 

“We spent a lot of time outside when we were writing the record. We wrote it in the hottest month of the year in Las Vegas. We had a weird sleeping schedule, too. We pretty much stayed up all night and slept during the day just because it is so hot there. So we spent a lot of time looking at the stars and enjoying and experiencing the weather so I think that had a very direct influence on us.”

Then weather and clouds and nature became part of the Pretty. Odd. era’s early theme that the band talked about (also look at the custom car they designed, or the set design for the Honda Civic Tour where Ryan said they wanted to make it feel like the show was happening outdoors). Flowers, weather, the sun & moon, and nature in general were part of that era because that’s what influenced the band while they were writing the songs (and also Jon Walker exists lol. he had a major influence on that album). A big theme with their songwriting in summer 2007 was to keep things simple & lighthearted.

WTDMTN was one of the early songs that they wrote that summer (the band played it for the first time on August 5th). Their interviews made it sound like the guys just watched night meet day a lot that summer, took some drugs, and wrote a cute story. Jon seemed so happy with that song’s fairy tale quality too! He said “We had this idea that the day and the night met each other… it’s basically a fairytale story about two times a day falling in love with each other and the world being day & night at the same time consecutively somehow.” Ryan said this song was like a kid’s story. He had also spent over half a year working on the cabin album’s fairytale-esque storyline (with Spencer’s help) and it had become so elaborate that he was considering writing an accompanying book. Just because they scrapped the cabin album and majorly switched directions for their second album doesn’t mean they lost all of their previous interests... it made sense that they might still gravitate towards a fairy-tale quality a bit.

I think the idea that anything on Pretty. Odd. could actually have some Ryden subtext comes from people who weren’t closely observing the season when the band wrote those lyrics. Brendon & Ryan were not that close in the last half of 2007. Ryan was way better friends with Jon by that summer... they talked about living together, watching movies or writing songs together in the middle of the night, going bowling or to see movies, etc. They were definitely close. There were pictures of them hanging out offstage. Ryan hung out with a lot of other Vegas friends throughout 2007 too. Meanwhile, Brendon talked about hanging out with Spencer and Shane that fall. Brendon & Ryan were together when they had to do band-related events (but even a few of those moments showed a shifting dynamic between the two guys). The guys were definitely still friends! But it’s a stretch when you try to paint a picture where they were in love & obsessed with each other this season to the point of writing lyrics about each other.

The only part of all the sun/moon conspiracy stuff that even slightly works is the idea that Jon Walker might have used the reference as a code in his post-split lyrics to get his own point across (ex: then his lyrics would imply that he doesn’t need Ryan & Brendon to tell him what to do). That doesn’t mean anything beyond the fact that Jon had always been super aware of what the fandom was saying and knew how to communicate on our level. Seriously, he followed the talk online in 2006-2007 SO closely and would even leave subtle references in his journal entries to things the fandom was talking about. Sometimes he was just messing with us (example at the bottom of this post). Some fans had actual “hi Jon” icons on lj towards the end of the Fever era because most people knew he was watching. In October 2006 the PATD livejournal got set to private for a short time and Jon posted on the band’s website “whats with the live journal being down, someone fix it :(” because now he couldn’t properly creep on that particular fan community while the band was on tour lol. 

He shared SO much of his photography with fans (including in the band’s album and his picturesatthedisco photobucket) and was just way more involved with us than the other 3 guys. So any sun/moon reference that Jon might have made in his own lyrics later on doesn’t exactly prove anything about the whole Ryden sun/moon conspiracy. It only proves that Jon was still in touch with his fanbase and could use their references.

[watermelonsugacry]

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

Choose Your Words

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

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

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now everything is different.

They aren’t in the band anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, no s’nothing—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Song Here! 👻

taglist:

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[foxes-that-run]

Eyes Open

Eyes Open was the second song Taylor wrote for Hunger Games. Taylor wrote it from Katniss' perspective and said she reflected on how our society compares to that in the book. To me X-Factor was part inspiration for it.

Eyes Open has the best lyric video of all, and it is from 2012! The stop motion and stationary bringing a childlike quality to a song about anxiety and losing innocence for cruel competition. ‘Eyes’ only appears in green or black, there is one eyes on purple paper for Speak Now, Taylors then Era.

What Taylor Said

At the VH1 Storytellers event at Harvey Mudd, Taylor Introduced it by saying it was interesting to get into the mindset of a character and:

When I started writing this song I started kind of applying it to life. How we're all kind of pinned up against each other. In school, in society, in like whatever celebrity world whatever it is. Everyone is like pinned up against each other like it's this weird competition. And so I wrote this song kinda based on Katniss running through a forest being chased by people but also, you know, the kind of society that we live in compared to the society she lives in.

Timeline

Eyes Open was registered in 2012. It was recorded at Pain in the Art Studio in Nashville. I was likely recorded in the first 3 weeks of the year. Taylor was in Nashville 12 January, 2012 when she performed Safe and Sound at a Civil Wars concert. It would have been complete before 23 January when Taylor was back in London. Thank you @cntfightmydemonsthyknowhowtoswim for your mad time skills.

Live Performances and 17 March

Taylor has played it live only ever three times:

17 March 2012, 2nd last Speak Now concert. 3 days before album.

15 October 2012, the day after Taylor performed on X-Factor UK.

17 October 2012, at the VH1 Storytellers event where she gave the above introduction.

When Taylor introduced it on 17 March she said: "Eyes Open ... I can't wait for you to hear, I'm really excited about it. I mean you don’t think I’ll get in trouble if I played it now?" The soundtrack was not out yet.

Eyes Open (Taylors Version) was released in the More Chapters on 17 March, 2023. Exactly 11 years after Taylor first played it live. At the time, this seemed random, yes Eras, but they were 3 deep cut re-records and a Lover vault released at a seemingly odd time.

So why 17 March? On 17 March, 2011, Taylor first played the mash-up of Fearless and Trains' Soul Sister, in Paris. Soul Sister was Harry's X-Factor Audition song, Harry was in Europe and not seen for days around that show. Taylor was then in London on the 20th when Harry performed in the X-factor tour at the O2. Post about that here. Taylor also included 16 March 2011 in the Lover Journal which mention a 4th grade book report and career anxiety, relevant to this song.

X-factor inspiration

The parallel between X-Factor and Hunger Games is not difficult to draw. In fact in 2013 even Simon Cowell did. As have 2012 contestant Ella Henderson and 2009 contestant Olly Murs. The second time Taylor played Eye's Open was also the day after she performed on X-Factor UK, which, to me, hints at the similarity in this song.

In January 2012 X-Factor was a UK reality show, in their first US interviews One Direction kept explaining what it was. Yet Taylor was not only familiar, but related to it. Which, the 2011 timeline covers. It seems they were friendly at that time.

Lyrics

Everybody's waiting Everybody's watching Even when you're sleeping Keep your ey-eyes open

The first verse sets the tension in the song, everybody is waiting and watching to see what happens, both in the Hunger Games, talent shows and celebrities. Throughout the song, it goes without saying each verse applies to the book, so I will focus more on the celebrity and X-factor angle.

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children Playing soldiers, just pretending Dreaming dreams with happy endings In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords But now we've stepped into a cruel world Where everybody stands and keeps score Keep your eyes open

While this verse applies in the book, I think it is where the comparison to a society with X-factor is most apparent. This verse speaks of someone who has experienced the cruel and competitive world speaking to someone naive to it. Taylor was 6 years (1/4 of her life) past her first record deal. In January 2012 Harry was younger and only 13 months into his first record deal. She worked for years to reach the point Harry found himself in overnight and potentially not ready for it.

On December 28 and 29 2011 Taylor posted these three photos, one with her face at sunset on a western coast (or early sunrise in the east) captioned 'childhood beach memories revisited', one with snow on a beach & safe and sound lyrics. It's unclear where they were taken, Taylor was not seen for weeks, it did snow on the beach in Liverpool that year. The lyrics in this verse of Eyes Open indicate a childhood she considered over christmas juxtaposed to fame.

Everybody's waiting for you to break down Everybody's watching to see the fallout Even when you're sleeping, sleeping Keep your ey-eyes open Keep your ey-eyes open Keep your ey-eyes open

Taylor repeated eye's open as a warning and others watching in other songs:

Wonderland: "I should have slept with one eye open at night" and "But there were strangers watching and whispers turned to talking"

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever: "Been sitting eyes wide open behind these four walls, hoping you’ll call"

Safe And Sound: "Just close your eyes"

Mirrorball: "Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten"

I know places “It's a scene, and we're out here in plain sight / I can hear them whisper as we pass by”

Run: We can go where our eyes can take usGo where no one else is, run

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard Every lesson forms a new scar They never thought you'd make it this far But turn around (turn around) Oh, they've surrounded you It's a showdown (showdown) And nobody comes to save you now But you've got something they don't Yeah, you've got something they don't You just gotta keep your eyes open

This verse applies equally to Katniss as it does celebrity.

In particular the 'make it this far' and scars is reminiscent of overnight fame from a tv show. On 23 November 2011 the One Direction: A Year in the Making special (25 minutes) was released where Harry cried as he spoke about searching for online hate and an uncomfortable obsession with his personal life.

Everybody's waiting for you to break down Everybody's watching to see the fallout Even when you're sleeping, sleeping Keep your ey-eyes open x3 Keep your feet ready Heartbeat steady Keep your eyes open Keep your aim locked The night goes dark Keep your lights open

The closing of the song continues the comparison, that in Katniss's world as it is in a show like X-Factor or celebrity where people are obsessed with the outcome, but also not necessarily the wellbeing of actual people (or characters in Katniss's case) involved.

Taylors parting words are to remain with their eyes open, aim locked and lights open. This is an interesting almost start to several years of a battle hardened Taylor, who wrote about weapons as defensive metaphors for years. This battle metaphor continued though 1989 and reputation.

I Know Places: Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns

Call It What You Want: My castle crumbled overnight, I brought a knife to a gunfight

Only in Lover and Evermore, 7 and 8 years later did Taylor start to talk of setting aside this battle hardened persona.

Daylight: Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it’s morning now, it’s brighter now, now.

Long story short: When I dropped my sword I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door and we live in peace.

[evupdates]

GuitarWorld: “I did everything by working my ass off. I played in bars six nights a week, 300 shows a year, three one-hour sets every night for eight years with no record deal”: Evanescence’s Troy McLawhorn on his guitar firsts, favorites and embarrassing moments https://trib.al/khFs88q

Interview Behind The Read More

In this Inquirer column, we reach out to Troy McLawhorn of Evanescence to answer the essential questions in any guitar player’s life. We’re talking first songs learned, first guitars played, and what would McLawhorn do if he had a time machine?

Well, maybe we know the answer to that – he’d take that damned trench coat back to the store…

What was your first guitar?

“My mom and dad had guitars in the house, and though they didn’t play them that much, those were the first guitars I grew up playing on. The one I really started to learn how to play on was my mom's nylon-string classical guitar.

“I played that for years before they bought me my first guitar, which I picked out in a music store down the street from my house. It had a black Gibson Explorer-style body with a maple neck and was made by a company called Lotus.”

What was the first song you learned to play?

“House of the Rising Sun by the Animals. I figured out the chords and then gave a little concert to my mom and dad. I was around 12.”

Do you remember your first gig?

“My first gigs were playing at parties. In my hometown, older kids would have what they called keg parties, where they’d buy a couple of kegs of beer and have a band play. So my first gigs were in people’s backyards, playing at parties for older people who were getting drunk. One of the earliest bands I can remember being in at the time was Hellrazor. By default, our only payment was beer.”

Ever had an embarrassing moment on stage?

“I can't think of anything in particular that occurred in Evanescence, but I do remember one embarrassing moment back in the early ’90s when I was in Still Rain. Whenever I performed, I’d wear snakeskin boots and a leather trench coat that went all the way down to the ground.

“One night, I was playing a solo at the front of the stage and totally rocking out. When I was done, I took a step back, but because my trench coat was so long, I stepped on it and couldn’t stand up straight.

“Each time I tried stepping back, the trench coat got shorter and shorter, until I fell down on stage on my back into the drum kit. I rolled around for a second so I could get my shit together, and I finally got up.”

What’s your favorite piece of gear?

“One piece of gear that I regret letting go of was a Mesa Boogie Mark IV. It was a combo that had a beautiful tweed front. As for my favorite, it’s my 1985 Gibson Les Paul Custom that was given to me for my birthday by a good friend.

“It was used when I got it, but it’s a beautiful guitar that’s got this amazing piece of leather artwork on the front. I’ve never seen anything like it and it just sounds and plays great.”

Suppose the building is burning down; what one guitar from your collection would you save?

“My wife gave me a really great American Telecaster for Christmas a few years back. It’s one of my favorite guitars to play when I’m at home, and it means a lot to me because my wife gave it to me.”

When was the last time you practiced and what did you play?

“It would’ve been last night before the show. I warm up before every show, playing guitar for 20 or 30 minutes. I will usually go through some exercises, and maybe a couple of things in the show that I may have fucked up the night before.

“I don’t really have a routine, as I don’t actually sit down and practice all that much when on tour, as I concentrate on maintaining and getting ready for the show I’m about to play. But when I’m home, I practice a lot and like to learn new things.”

What aspect of the guitar would you like to improve?

“I’d love to have more of a knowledge of music theory. Growing up, I learned everything by ear. I just listened to records and tried to figure out what I could. I think it would be great to have more of an educated knowledge of theory and scales and all that stuff.”

What advice would you give to your younger self?

“I’d say invent a time machine so it can take you to now, where you could watch YouTube videos! I think it’s amazing that kids have YouTube now, because it would’ve been a whole different thing for me if I had all the knowledge that’s on YouTube."

“I did everything I could by working my ass off. I played in bars five and six nights a week, playing 300 shows a year, playing three one-hour sets every night for about eight years with no record deal. The experience was amazing. I don’t know what more I could have done outside of what we did in that time.”

Fallen (20th Anniversary) is out now via Craft Recordings.

[dayfalwastaken]

Henry Emily and the tale of the Fredbear's Show Tape.

Eventually, the side Matthew was hoping for won out, and Henry knelt down to answer him.

“Hehe, alright, sure, if you guys want to hear it.” It was funny how easily he’d been convinced... but he may have just been dying for someone to ask him about the Springlocks. They were his most prized creations, so of course he’d be eager to discuss them. “It’s complicated but I’ll try to keep it as simple as possible. So, the process me and Bill have developed for this is rather interesting. First thing’s first, we write how the show’s gonna be. Everything that’ll be said and how it will be said. Then, we put what we write into a program that reads it and makes Freddy and Springbonnie speak. Now comes the tricky part. Behind the stage is where we the magic happens. William gets into either Fred or Spring, we plug `em with a few cables that are hooked up to a computer, and then Will starts acting. While plugged in, the suits are in what we call a Recording Mode. When that mode’s active, however William moves will be remembered and stored in the computer. There are sensors in the mask that know when your eyes are closed, and by how much, so that’s how those two are able to express. The jaw’s movement is also recorded-…”

It hadn’t taken Henry long to start rambling. Get the man to talk and he’d never stop, but Matt wasn’t protesting. Most of what he was saying flew right over Liz’s head- she was staring through her uncle like he wasn’t there, while Cassidy wasn’t doing much better. Evan understood some of it, but he was still struggling to comprehend all the information. Admittedly, it was a lot for him to wrap his head around. Charlie was following along alright, but from how she was watching her father, she’d have loved to be doing anything else. To Matthew however, Henry’s ramblings sounded awfully similar to motion capture.

Walt Disney had done it first with animatronics more than ten years ago, but still, Henry… He was so casual about having recreated literal motion capture!! And to a level that surpassed any existing technology in that niche field!

He’s way too nonchalant about his achievements. Like, man, don’t downplay what you’ve built- you’re so awesome for doing something like this, is what the boy wished he could’ve said.

To think that this was the in-universe explanation for why the next gen animatronics were less mobile than the Springlocks despite being newer…

“-Now, the voice lines are played over a speaker as Bill performs so he can react accordingly. It’s all done live, and it has to be in one take or we start from scratch. That’s the hard thing about it. There’s no room for mistakes if we want it done in a timely manner. Thankfully William is great at acting, so we don’t run into too many issues. He does his thing and I press the buttons. But anyway, once he’s done, he takes the suit off and does the same for the other one. At the end, we combine the audio with the movements, put them on a special tape, upload it in the suits and we’re golden. That’s all there is to a Fredbear’s Show Tape. Pretty rad, huh?”

If he'd had a red beer cup Henry would've been the perfect stereotypical uncle. The kind spotted only at backyard barbeques and awkward family gatherings.

[emlovesredbull]

the main 4 as teenagers

or how i imagine them at least....

stan marsh

-tried to stay away from weed to avoid being like randy (it doesn't work)

-he's not addicted, he just has easy access to weed and likes the feeling it gives him

-massive alcoholic

-he doesn't enjoy going to parties, but there's free alcohol there so he usually takes a stash to the bathroom or a more private area to be alone

-smokes with kenny behind the school when he gets bored with class

-dyed his hair blonde after his dad called stan his mini-me

-has really shaggy bangs, but his hair is weirdly soft (he accidentally used shelley's shampoo one time and now he can't stop)

-mostly c's with a few b's

-always listening to music during class and then proceeds to complain about never knowing what's going on

-the quarterback of the football team and actually very good at it???

-pretty tall, about 6'1

-has a notebook filled with song ideas, but never records/performs the songs he writes

-drives a slightly beat up ford bronco

-wears a lot of baggy clothes, especially sweatshirts

-has a VERY bad depression room (lowkey me too)

-coaches kid's football over the summer for extra cash

kyle

-very smart, 4.0 gpa (he won't rub it in your face though)

-amazing at basketball but underestimates himself and gets very bad anxiety every single tryout season

-slight germophobe

-pretty clean person, likes a tidy room, but whenever he gets busy it gets a little messy sometimes

-tallest of the friendgroup, 6'4, but nobody knows where it came from because both of his parents are super short

-very bad at all of the videogames and always comes last when the boys play

-doesn't smoke, but he drinks occasionally

-not a party boy, he'd much rather stay in, but sometimes kenny and stan drag him to functions

-he stands by the snack table and somehow always ends up helping a really drunk person

-gained better anger management strategies, but it's still fairly easy to make him tick

-drives a white subaru legacy

-sheila makes sure he always looks presentable, so he wears a lot of sweaters and jeans

-he still wears a hat to cover up his curls

-took up guitar a couple years after his guitar hero phase, but it usually sits in the corner untouched

-cancels plans a lot because sheila makes him pick up ike

kenny

-shows up to everything high (asked randy how to grow weed and started a little garden in his backyard)

-mostly c's with a few d's s

-usually leaves in the middle of the school day to go work one of his jobs

-pulls up to random snapchat functions with stan (and kyle)

-is the drummer in a band

-has very shaggy and somewhat long hair

-has a reputation as a playboy

-karen is always painting his nails different colors

-drives a beat-up truck he found in the junkyard (kevin helped him hotwire it)

-secretly really enjoys romcoms

-also enjoys the playboy magazines he sells to the middle school boys

-has been kicked out of target 34 times

-his clothes are kind of old and torn, so he adopted a grunge style so it looked natural

-treats girls surprisingly good because of his experience with his little sister

-speaking of karen, he saves a little bit of every paycheck to buy her something special

-spends the night in his car (with karen ofc) sometimes after his parents fight

-is 5'11

cartman

-worked at kfc but got fired for eating the skin off of people's chicken and then serving it to them

-throws parties sometimes and people only go to them to trash his house

-surprisingly gets straight a's

-varsity bench rider for football, but by the way he brags about it you'd think he's starting (he's a linebacker btw)

-genuinely believes he has abs (he does not, and the girls would like him to put his shirt back on)

-is famous on twitch, youtube and twitter for his gameplay and commentary (he's like a teenage boy trisha paytas)

-has the ice cream tiktok boy hairstyle and thinks it makes him look cool

-is like 5'8

-has a very basic style, and pretty much only wears nike

-runs an anonymous advice tiktok account and gaslights people into believing his bad advice

-drives a red convertible he BEGGED liane for

-doesn't really smoke, but he likes vaping and alcohol

-listens to edm music and everyone else despises it

-pretended to be a serial killer one time because he thought it was funny

-the teachers hate him because he's super loud and disruptive in their classes, but he's super smart effortlessly

-doesn't use deodorant

-or shower multiple times in a week

-his hair is very greasy

-definitely has a discord kitten because none of the girls at school like him

[kiisuuumii]

thinking a little bit too hard about how every sleep token song is a piece of vessel, from their lyrics, to their instrumentals, down to the way he chooses to sing or scream,

how every poem anyone has ever written is just the same a piece of that person, whether one or two lines, proud of the work or not,

and realizing the severity of my admiration for the sleep token frontman

i'm listening to the tmbte record, which i don't think is suprising to hear to the people who know me, while i'm outside in the backyard, intending to maybe finishing calling a wolf a wolf, until my mind starts to wander. to the state of the us currently, how it's in enough shambles for me to see that even my parents are scared. to what my future will look like, what'll become of it because of the decisions of the autocracy, and my own. to how heartbreakingly beautiful euclid is, because it came on. to how apologetically himself he is. to how people love him anyways.

to how every work of writing and art made with our heart has a piece of it in it.

to how despairingly human we all are. how even the things we choose to hide ourselves behind still tell on us.

time and time again, i've imagined up scenarios with people i love asking, my asking myself, why i like sleep token so much. i've come up with answers before, much to do with vessel and his vocal technique, his producing, his lyrics, that inspired me to start writing poetry again. but that never felt like enough of an answer.

and i've come to realize that it's the severity of his humanness. i'd recently seen a concert slip from sleep token's very early days, where vessel was performing nazareth, i believe, drunk, and slurring the lyrics.

throughout the entire records in this trilogy, he depicts the worst of connection. how obsession became undoing. it's the messiest, and bloodiest, i've ever seen an artist become in their work.

but nothing about its articulation is messy. every vocalization, every lyric, every riff so meticulously crafted. every single detail placed there with care.

i'd said in my writer's survey that there wasn't anyone that i'd want to emulate. nor was there anyone in particular that i looked up to. at the time, i was thinking only about poets by title. and it wasn't as if it was a secret that i admire vessel.

but i realize now the severity of my admiration.

not that i want to emulate his work. there is no other lyricist or poet like him, nor will there ever be.

just that i only want to work towards the discipline to be just as meticulous, while still letting my heart bleed all over everywhere just the same.

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff Buckley’s Iconic Flame

By Jane Gabriels

May 2017

In May 1997, we heard rumors. We called from pay phones scattered throughout the East Village to get our messages: “Did you hear?” We heard each other say, “Jeff is strong.” For three days, we were in limbo. We heard a musician tell another regular from the Sin-é, “You know Jeff, he probably got tempted by a good meal, and he’s off lounging on a lawn chair in someone’s backyard.” And then, “How could that have happened?” Boots and undercurrents and waves knocked him under and wouldn’t let go.

Just like all of us.

We have his voice, and the climb of his songs, and where they leave to find you again.

When I write about the early ’90s East Village, it’s like opening and closing doors rapidly, like blinking, like creating a film from photographs. When you’re not from N.Y.C. and you move here to live, you’re after a dream you can’t always quite name.

Sit on a bench in Tompkins Square Park until, if you’re lucky, you imagine hearing how the beats and melodies spiraling out of Sin-é, the Living Room, Fez Under Time Café, Sticky Mike’s Frog Bar, Tonic, the Bottom Line, CBGBs, the Pink Pony, Other Music, and Tower Records sunk into the ground here. You can definitely hear the music moving towards you from Arlene’s, Irving Plaza, the Mercury Lounge, Scratchers. Under these trees, and the length of their elegant branches, this is the central heartbeat. The songs mingle—layering, collapsing, re-arranging—informing the mood and the way we walk and talk together. Even with these venues gone, traces of how they held voices and songs circulate.

***

We were in the East Village for the music, for dance, for creativity. We were there for late night talks after shows at the cube at Astor Place. We’d put our hands on one of its corners to push it: to move our own minds into a refreshed perspective. We let the city revolve our cells.

The first time I heard Jeff play at Sin-é, I remember three or four people in the room. One minute we were seated separately at tables with cups of coffee and the next, we were all hands on deck in a storm on high seas. Jeff was the captain making the storm and leading us through.

You tell me how that happened, this sudden journey he created for us to disappear into.

Standing at the microphone, he released his head, threw it forward with his mouth open, teeth exposed. This high-pitched cry, both held within and barely contained by his mouth, unleashed. Like it had always been there, and finally asked to be revealed. Jeff was there to find something, to call it to surface, to sing his way forward through that cry. This cry he imagined also calling him—the guitar holding ground.

I think I was holding my breath.

In 1993, four songs launched a career out of his first recorded album, Live at Sin-é. My loud whoop, learned from imitating the dancers in my West African classes at Fareta, is the last sound recorded from the audience. The first time I heard myself on that record, I almost fell over.

Jeff played inside the songs, alive with the music, and brought them more to life. People sometimes remember covers of his songs more than they connect with the originals.

What I can tell you from that night is that there was an air of concentration, a re-tuning of vibrations in that familiar room that moved his work and performance from a neighborhood gig into another form. Here was something that would mark forever his days at the Sin-é. A moment before his life changed, again. It’s not like you make a record like Live at Sin-é and then continue to play only there. We were suddenly part of that trajectory molded from outside his own resources.

Another thing about that night: the clapping between songs was punctuation. A lull where we could move to mark the in-between together.

I think of him when the train stops at Union Square on a Friday, 6:00 p.m., and there’s a band playing. How it pulls at you to run up the crowded mountain of stairs to explode and decompose yourself in their planet. The drummer throws his stick up in the air; it twirls, and he catches it in time to pound out the next beat. Jeff would have loved it.

He’s inspiring, twenty years after his death. And this is how I am writing about Jeff. He filled his aloneness with beautiful things. I think we waited for him to play out of his mind, so we could leave ours, and go someplace better.

Contributor

Jane Gabriels

[icepoptroll]

For the ask rtc game - 1, 17, 25?

Oooo!! Hello!!!

1- Favorite production- I think the version I gravitate towards the most is the 2016 one from the pro shot. It was the first one I ever saw and it's the best quality recording. But boy do I love a lot of other productions!! I felt that Fed's Backyard Theater went in a lot of unique directions, I especially loved their ending with Jane/Penny getting to say good bye to everyone individually and Virgil taking her hand and leading her into the other side. Also, I live in New Jersey and I'm lucky enough to live only a couple of hours away from Stageworks Theater Group. Their production, while very small and obscure, was amazing and I am so excited to be going back to see their round 2 this July!

17- Favorite vocal performance- I know I'm definitely not the first to say this but hands down gotta give it to Emily Rohm as Jane Doe, those operatic high notes while spinning all around and upside down is easily one of the most impressive things I've seen and heard in my entire life

25- Something you haven't seen in a production that you want to- oh, definitely a glitchy Karnak and not just at the very end of the show. There's a rat chewing through his power cable, guys. I feel like he should be glitching from the beginning and it gets worse and worse til he dies at the end. Most Karnaks speak very smoothly and that's a perfectly good portrayal to do but I'd also love to see frequent skipping and stuttering and twitching, sort of like a malfunctioning Disney park animatronic lol. Show me a psychic robot man who is clearly slowly dying!! I'm sure there are ways to make that blend fittingly with the dialogue.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Television - The Bowery Ballroom, New York City, December 30 / December 31, 2017

From the Bottom Line to CBGB to the Bowery Ballroom — we're taking a little tour of NYC venues past and present this week. Here, we're headed back to TV Land with two of Television's last New York City performances! Historic stuff. Previously uncirculated tapes, too, courtesy of longtime friend of the blog Daniel Bourque. Thank you, Dan! These shows are full of cool/interesting playing, long jams, some unusual rarities and a generally lively atmosphere — the New Year's Eve gig in particular. Take it away, Dan!

Dan's show notes:

These shows were meant to close out 2017 and ring in the New Year, and I have always wondered how they happened since Tom and Television were not exactly known for the jovial atmosphere they brought to the stage, nor were they – how do I put this? A party band. "Hey, you know who knows how to have a good time? Tom Verlaine!" Nevertheless, the shows were sold out and everybody seemed to be having a great time; I certainly did.

Night 1: The set is fairly standard for live performances by the band during their final years and heavily focused on songs from Marquee Moon with "1880 or so" the only song from the eponymous reunion album and nothing from Adventure. "Little Johnny Jewel," the band's first single, is played as an encore. Both "Persia" and "I'm Gonna Find You" which were never (as far as we know) recorded by the band appear, as does "The Man In The Backyard," a true rarity only played a couple of times live, both solo by Verlaine and with Television. After "Persia" is played, the band pause for one of their lengthy (and frequent!) tuning sessions during which Tom comments: "Our old manager said don't bother tuning because nobody can ever tell. But I disagree with him."

Night 2: Tom is unusually talkative during this show after having hardly spoken to the crowd at all the previous night. Maybe it's the just the holiday but he seems in a positively cheerful - even playful - mood much of the time. Early on he archly complains about the lights "Time for a private conversation with the lighting director" and after "1880 Or So" promises to teach the crowd a dance (!) shortly before midnight. Then during "Torn Curtain" (which is a bit messy as a result) he calls for security when a rowdy inebriated fan down front passes out, and comments afterwards "I think our unfortunate super celebratory stoner is gone.”

Like the previous night the set is very heavily weighted toward songs from Marquee Moon, with "1880 Or So" off of the eponymous reunion album the lone exception. Mid-set the band start "Friction" only to stop it abruptly then play it later as an encore. Just before midnight Tom recites a poem, then after counting down to the New Year the band play a loose cover of "Auld Lang Syne" with Eleanor Friedberger joining the band onstage and contributing some vocals. Hendrix playing "The Star-Spangled Banner" it certainly isn't, but it's a unique one-off and fun to hear the band play it in their very distinctive style. This is also as far as I know (maybe Patti Smith?) the only Television performance with a guest appearance by another artist. This is followed by a ragged version of "Psychotic Reaction," a cover the band have played many times over the years. There are also a couple of unreleased songs, "Persia" and "I'm Gonna Find You" and late in the set the band play another new song, "The Eel," which is a bluesy rocker. This, Tom points out is what he meant when he said he was going to teach the crowd a dance!

[boricuacherry-blog]

Rainford Hugh "Lee" Perry was born on March 20, 1936, in the rural sugar-cane fields of Kendal, Jamaica. The third of four children, Perry grew up watching his mother perform the Ettu dance - a ceremony held to commune with the spirits of the afterlife in which the devotees enter trancelike states. At 20, according to his biography, People Funny Boy, by David Katz, Perry left his village, eventually finding his way to the teeming capital of Kingston, where he got a job running errands at Studio One, the Motown of Jamaica. Perry worked his way through the organization by writing catchy songs like "Chicken Scratch," the popular dance anthem that gave him his nickname. In 1966, Perry left Studio One and subsequently produced the song "The Upsetter," marking the birth of his incendiary alter ego. In 1969, walking by a church, Perry was mesmerized by the soulful sound of the congregation's music. Inspired, he recorded "People Funny Boy" - a track widely credited as one of the first reggae songs. Decades before "sampling" became the norm, the tune featured a baby crying, hinting at Perry's future sonic surrealisms. "Reggae is a useful exercise I created to get the people skipping," Perry says.

That same year, a young and frustrated Bob Marley returned to Jamaica from the United States, where he had been working in a Delaware auto factory. After regrouping with bandmates Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer, Marley came to Perry seeking musical and spiritual guidance. In Marley, Perry found the consummate vocal counterpart of the Upsetter sound. Under Perry's mentorship, who Ziggy Marley says was instrumental in his father's career, Marley recorded some of his early songs. However, when Perry allegedly sold the Wailers' music to a British label, the Wailers acrimoniously split from him and recorded "Trench Town Rock" as an insult to Perry.

The only surviving member of Marley's original band, Bunny Wailer, still holds a grudge. "Lee Perry did nothing for the Wailers," Wailer says. "He just sat there in the studio while we played our music, and then he screwed us. We never saw a dime from those albums we did with him. Records that other people have made millions from. Lee Perry's ignorance cost us a lot of money, and I never forgave him."

For his part, Perry says, "I'd rather not talk on Bunny Wailer - he's a miserable person."

Whatever their differences, for the rest of his life Marley would return to Perry in search of inspiration, advice and to occasionally collaborate on songs like "Jah Live." "The only person Bob worked with whom he really respected was Lee Perry," says Chris Blackwell, who would assume production responsibilities for the Wailers from Perry. Blackwell had the band re-record many of the original Perry tracks, removing some of the grit, weirdness and mysticism from songs like "Duppy Conquerer" and "Small Axe" for release in the U.S., taking Marley and reggae music into the mainstream.

In 1973, Perry built his legendary Black Ark Studio, a small backyard bunker behind his home in Kingston, and embarked on a five-year period of around-the-clock production increasingly fueled by marijuana and alcohol. Black Ark would become the birthplace of countless reggae and dub classics.

In 1976, as political turmoil erupted in Jamaica, Perry produced the classics War Ina Babylon with Max Romeo and Police and Thieves with Junior Murvin. The albums catapulted him into national acclaim. After the Clash covered "Police and Thieves," Perry worked as their producer in London, and was swept up by the punk scene. Inspired by the new sound and energy, Perry co-wrote "Punky Reggae Party" for Bob Marley. "If I want to spit here, I spit here," Perry has said. "If I want to piss there, I piss there. I am punk."

In 1978, Perry, who was always wildly eccentric, suffered a dramatic mental breakdown after his wife left him for a Rastafarian studio musician. The grounds of his property were cluttered with Rasta sycophants, and he was being extorted by the local gangs. Perry became convinced that Rastafarians were to blame. He rode through Kingston with a rotting, maggot-infested slab of pork as a hood ornament. He began to paint obsessively, covering the property with incoherent graffiti. In 1983, in the depth of his madness, convinced the studio was possessed by evil spirits, Perry set the Black Ark studio ablaze. He entered into a deep depression, and as a result blew $25000 on an antique set of silverware.

He is now content though. His one complaint in life is that he lacks rivalry. "You don't get to where you need to get without competition," he says. He has not driven a car in 30 years, but sometimes he gets restless, and will have someone drive him down to a 14th century monastery where, in hopes of unsettling the priests, he walks into the chapel with a giant snowball on his head.

Perry's teenage son and daughter, Gabriel and Shiva, saunter into the room. Perry has at least eight children with four women. He signals to his daughter: "She's 20, and she's a virgin. She knows what men want. She has to stay with us, forever!" Shiva shakes her head, unfazed by her father's humor. Perry also laments that he would be dead without his Swiss wife. He no longer smokes or drinks, but his wife still needs weed.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

It's a new day, so let's review our list of tasks again. We got a lot done yesterday, but there's still plenty more to get done.

THURSDAY

Get yourself organised

You can't build communism alone. It's time to join your revolutionary brethren, develop your political consciousness, and put Mazovian theory into practice. But where have all the communists gone?

Roam the streets to sniff out some comrades.

WEDNESDAY

Spirit is eternal

The Horrific Necktie is getting ready for the end game. For the love of god do not remove it till the 'magic' happens.

Hold onto the spirits and wait for the signal.

Find Idiot Doom Spiral's jacket

Idiot Doom Spiral stole a cool jacket at one point... and then lost it again. The story of his life. According to the man, the jacket was last seen somewhere around the boardwalk, maybe the abandoned fish market.

Doorgunner Megamix

Hardie gave you a recording where the hanged man supposedly testifies to his intent to rape and pillage. Have a listen on a playback device—either in your room; or find one from a pawnshop.

Talk to Titus about the Doorgunner Megamix.

Ask Klaasje about Sunday night

When Kim's not around to stop you, ask Klaasje about what she heard from her room the night before you emerged into Reality. She must know something.

TUESDAY

Find the murder weapon

You need to find the firearm that killed the hanged man. Something tells you it will take *some* time. You could start by identifying the bullet, so you'd know the weapon that shot it. After that, keep your eyes open. And be patient.

Perform an advanced analysis, using Hand/Eye Coordination.

Open apartment door for Evrart

Evrart asked you to open the basement door behind the greenhouse in the backyard, to intimidate the occupant. Do what you have to do, Evrart has promised to give you info on the case in return.

Let Evrart know you unlocked the door.

Ask René about the photo

The photo you found in the nightwatchman's booth—the one with a happy couple. Ask René about it, he looked uncharacteristically happy on the picture.

Find working class husband

The working class woman you met in front of the bookstore admitted that her husband is missing. Chances are the guy is drinking somewhere with his buddies. Find him and bring him home, if possible.

Find Morell, the Cryptozoologist

The ageing cryptozoologist has been out in the reeds for too long, and his wife, Lena, is very worried. Maybe you can find him when you happen to be on the coast?

You told Lena Morell is missing because of the broken water lock. She is still worried he hasn't come back -- let Morell know if you see him.

MONDAY

Find the armoured gloves

The gloves of the hanged man armour might still be around in the neighbourhood. Try to locate them.

Ask the little girl in the fishing village, down the coast, who knows something about the armoured gloves.

Huh, we haven't seen a little girl in this village yet.

Due to some confusion over the game René and Gaston are playing, you threw one of their pétanque *boules* far in the sea. The shot was excellent, but now you owe them a *boule*... or at least similar-looking metal sphere.

Who put the clothes in the trash?

The victim's clothes were in the trash container out back, neatly folded. Who could have put them there, and why? Only the Whirling staff was supposed to have the key.

Who else has unauthorized access to the Whirling trash? Find this person and you'll know who tampered with the scene. (It may take a while).

We have now determined where the racist mug came from, so that's a lead.

Explore the Whirling's secret passages

There are strange doors in the Whirling. No one knows where they lead. Find a way in and see what's hidden there, in the hostel cafeteria's forgotten corners.

Find a way into the secret passage.

Find all armour pieces

You want all of the armour pieces. Deck yourself out in full metal battle-hardened glory. NOTE! This might take a while. Like, a *long* while.

[conceptalbummultiverse]

Character Timelines: Pink

I've decided to write out timelines documenting the personal history of each character that I'm working with for Strange Fascination, since keeping all my made-up facts straight is getting to be difficult when it's just inside my head. (It's also difficult to keep anything straight when you're writing what ultimately becomes a queer romance, heyoooo)

...anyway, I'm going to start with Pink because I've fleshed out his background the most. All timelines go right up to the beginning of Strange Fascination. (This is a LONG-ASS POST if you click, just a warning.)

November 1943: Floyd Andrew Pinkerton is born in a small English village to parents Jonathan and Marion.

February 1944: Jonathan Pinkerton is killed in action during World War II.

1953: Floyd meets and befriends two of the boys who would later grow up to become members of his band, The Pink Floyd Sound. They give each other nicknames, his being "Pinky." Floyd starts experimenting with writing, though it's a half-hearted attempt because his mother and his teachers discourage him from pursuing it seriously.

1955: An impulse purchase of a 45'' record with money he saved up from allowance/chores introduces Floyd to rock and roll. At once he knows what he wants to do with the rest of his life- namely, make music and become famous. He begins writing songs in earnest.

1956: One of Floyd's friends has a brother who's moving away to university, and he's giving away a few things that he can't take with him and has no interest in anymore- one of them being an acoustic guitar. Floyd jumps on the chance to learn an instrument and takes lessons from his friend's brother over the summer, with the agreement being that if Floyd gets good enough, the brother will give him the guitar to keep. Floyd gets good enough, and starts practicing for hours every afternoon after he comes home from school, much to his mother's chagrin.

1959: Floyd and his two friends form a band for the first time, with Floyd on guitar and vocals, one friend on drums, and the other on bass. They're not called The Pink Floyd Sound- not yet. As they practice and get better and better, their gigs graduate from basements and backyards to their first "real" performance at a most prestigious venue- the county fair. They're paid mostly in free food. It's a small start, but it's something.

1961: A local talent contest is announced, and Floyd enrolls the band without checking the date. Turns out it's the night before his final O-level exam, but he couldn't care less. The band comes in first place in the competition, earning a cash prize (and Floyd passes his exam, too). With the money and their savings, the band records their first single, a very very early version of one of the first songs Floyd ever wrote, “Money.” It's a rush job that only takes several hours, without time to fix any mistakes or do any finessing where the mix is concerned, and the equipment used is pretty cheap, but the song itself shows Floyd's potential. The band spends the summer trying to pitch the single and use it to leverage more gigs, but it doesn't go much of anywhere. Eventually, autumn rolls around and the bassist and drummer head off to university. Floyd would have gone too, but he decided to defer entrance for a year to look after his mother. With the bassist and drummer being gone, the band's future is put on a brief pause. He receives letters from his friends, who are attending the same university, and resents that they're still meeting up whenever they can while he's stuck in the village where he's spent his entire life. He gets a job and as soon as he can, he starts going out to visit his friends on the weekends. With the money he’s making from his job, Floyd saves up to to pay half for an electric guitar, and his mother gives him the other half, realizing that he’s serious about his musical dreams even though she still doesn’t approve of them. Floyd feels ashamed that he had to rely on her to pay for half, and always fails to mention her involvement from that point on whenever he's explaining where he got his guitar from.

1962: Partly feeling like his dues to his mother/village have been paid, and mostly feeling like he has to get out of his hometown or he'll go insane, Floyd finally attends university come autumn. (Don't ask me what he majored in, that's one detail I still haven't worked out.) Now that he's closer to his friends, he notices that 1. they're all much better musicians than they used to be, and 2. they've got a new social circle that he's not fully a part of. One of their new friends is a very talented keyboardist. As soon as possible, Floyd gets the band back together, eventually inviting the keyboardist to join. They begin to do gigs around school, which Floyd ends up focusing on much more than his studies. They name the band The Pink Floyd Sound, after the nickname that Floyd has started regularly using ever since arriving at university.

1963-1966: Several things happen during this period of time, but I’m not sure of the specific years corresponding to each. The band starts to become well-known, playing around several towns, with a few residencies at underground clubs. Audrey Dorian frequently attends one such residency, but she and Pink aren’t introduced until later. The band gets a manager and, in 1966, records and releases their first couple of singles, “Arnold Layne” and “See Emily Play.” Gradually, Pink abandons his studies to focus on music full time. He and the drummer start sharing a flat, but Pink is rarely home, preferring to stay out late and crash at other people’s places when he can. He also visits his mother often on weekends, but tension from her disapproval of his career choice and shame from still being so closely connected to her eventually leads to him visiting her less frequently. During this period, Pink also experiments with drugs for the first time (pot and LSD), and experiences aural hallucinations for the first time. Although the LSD didn’t cause the hallucinations, he does experience them the day after he’s first dropped acid. The hallucinations stay pretty consistent from this point to the rest of his life- they're always the voices of figures from his life, usually people who he hasn't seen in a long time, either berating him or repeating a phrase that he remembers them saying over and over.

1967: The Pink Floyd Sound release their first album, appropriately also titled The Pink Floyd Sound. Pink wrote every song on it, except for “Interstellar Overdrive,” a jam song credited to the full band. The fresh, trippy sounds win the band some renown, and they embark on their first proper tour, traveling to America as well as throughout Europe.

1968: Between touring, which doesn’t leave much time for writing songs, and the frustrations of Pink’s band members, who all have been stretching their wings on the compositional front, Pink cautiously opens himself to collaboration within the band. The result is A Saucerful of Secrets, which only has 3-4/7 tracks written by Pink. (Still trying to decide if “Jugband Blues” is a song that exists in universe, since I feel like it wouldn’t speak to Pink’s mental/emotional state at this point in time.) While touring in support of A Saucerful of Secrets, Pink meets up with a fan, Audrey Dorian, who tells him that she used to see him play in clubs all the time in the early 60’s, but never had the courage to say hello. They begin seeing each other on and off. This year’s tour leaves everyone feeling burnt out, as Pink copes with his undiagnosed schizoaffective disorder by experimenting further with drugs (although he never develops an addiction. Also, don't ask me what drugs he's using by this point, that's another thing I haven't figured out), and tensions begin to blossom within the band as Pink's bandmates feel they're being unfairly slighted by the press and the public in favor of Pink. Their first show upon returning to English soil is also a disaster, as the venue is too small and fans rush the stage, to the point of the show stopping as security interferes. Sensing how sour things are getting, the band takes some time off to recuperate and figure out how they want to work together (at the urging of Pink's bandmates, as Pink would rather just ignore the problem like he ignores all his other problems).

1969: During The Pink Floyd Sound's hiatus, Pink and Audrey become serious in their relationship, and Pink moves in with her. A live album is released to tide the Pink Floyd Sound fans over while the band is still writing and resting. Pink prefers to write alone, but Audrey overhears him working on a song called “If” one day and encourages him not to scrap it, even though he doesn’t think much of it (or rather, finds it to be too vulnerable to share). A new working method comes about for The Pink Floyd Sound- each member will write songs individually for the next album, so as not to get in anyone’s way (i.e., Pink’s way).

1970: The Pink Floyd Sound releases their third studio album, Atom Heart Mother. The song that Audrey wanted Pink to save, “If,” is on it, which by this point he feels pretty proud of until he hears “Summer ‘68,” the song his keyboardist has come up with, which in his eyes puts his song to shame. But that’s okay- the first song on the album (in fact, the entire first side of the album) is the “Atom Heart Mother Suite,” and although the entire band worked on that piece, Pink had the most input into how it eventually was to sound. The band goes on tour again, and it's a smaller-scale tour compared to the previous one, which resets the band's equilibrium ever so slightly. The "Atom Heart Mother Suite" captures the attention of a record executive Cyrus Reeves, who introduces himself to Pink at a holiday party in December that The Pink Floyd Sound’s record label is hosting. Cyrus offers to sign Pink as a solo artist, praising his genius, but Pink is reluctant to take that step, remembering how being singled out nearly tore his band apart, and not being confident enough in his own abilities as a musician.

1971: Sometime early in the year, maybe in March, Pink’s mother dies of illness. (Don't ask me what illness it is, I haven't figured that out yet.) The band has just gotten together to start their next round of writing and recording, but the news devastates Pink, so he cancels the sessions. For most of Pink's adult life, he's seen his mother as a paranoid attention seeker, so he never took her too seriously whenever she called him up talking about her various ailments. Now he's consumed with regret over not having visited her frequently enough when she was ill. Pink takes Audrey back to his hometown to attend the funeral, and feels embarrassed to have her see this part of his life that he hasn't shared much with her. They only stay at the funeral for as long as it's required- Pink can't wait to get out of there. Cyrus sends flowers, and Pink is surprised that he did so. Meanwhile, Pink's bandmates try to provide condolences, but they're simultaneously feeling pressured because they have a commitment to their record label and they have to keep writing/recording the album in order to make their autumn release deadline. The album ends up being mainly composed (instrumentally) by Pink's bandmates, while Pink's main task is solely to provide lyrics. (Exceptions are the songs "San Tropez," which Pink wrote some time before beginning work on the album and only put on the album because they needed an extra song, and "Echoes," which he worked on collaboratively with his bandmates.) The band continues to play shows throughout the summer, but Pink's heart isn't in it, and he numbs himself further with drugs. His hallucinations worsen, as he starts hearing his mother's voice in his head. He also distances himself from Audrey, which scares her. Desperate to shake Pink out of his depression and to give him something to look forward to, Audrey suggests they get married, which is something that Pink's mother had wanted. Pink initially didn't want to get married for that very reason, but now, desiring to atone for what he sees as abandoning his mother and also relying on Audrey to provide him with strength, he agrees and they get engaged. The band's album, Meddle, is released in the autumn, and shortly thereafter, Cyrus once again approaches Pink with his offer. This time, instead of turning it down, Pink says he'll think about it, and he'll have an answer for Cyrus by the end of the band's next tour. He and Audrey get married in December.

1972: The Pink Floyd Sound tour again in support of Meddle, and it's miserable. Pink is unhappy from the get-go due to feeling frustrated with his bandmates, and his bandmates in turn are frustrated with him. He also misses Audrey and is worried about their future together, as when the tour ends, they'll need to start seriously planning what their married life is going to look like. By the end of the tour, Pink contacts Cyrus and tells him that he'd like to take his offer. He tells the band right after the last show of the tour, which results in a drunken fistfight in an alley between himself and his bassist, who resents Pink for making that decision without consulting the band, thus leaving them in the lurch. After all the songs he's written, all his drive to get the band to commit to their career, and even giving the band his name, how could he leave them like this? Pink, however, doesn't care. He signs with Pasture Records, and spends the rest of the year navigating new contracts and new personnel, while also slaving away at the songs for what's to become his first solo album. Cyrus Reeves becomes Pink's new manager. (Yes, he was an A&R man and now he's a manager. I don't know how that works. I haven't figured it out yet.)

1973: Pink's first solo album, The Dark Side of the Moon, is released, and it's worth all the headache and heartache he went through trying to make it. Maybe it's because he's been out of the public eye for a year, or maybe it's because it's just THAT good, but critics and fans alike eat this album up. Pink manages to write about several personal topics on this album- "Us and Them" is inspired by his father's death in the war, while "The Great Gig in the Sky," while never directly stated by Pink, is widely assumed to have been written/recorded in honor of his mother. The album also features one of Pink's oldest songs, "Money," which becomes a smash hit. Doors begin to open up to Pink that were closed to him before. He begins to ride a wave of success, where things are handed to him, and believe it or not, he enjoys it. At least at first. Naturally, a tour follows, which has its ups and downs. Pink's not a fan of the bigger venues he's playing, but the rock star life has its perks- mostly drugs and rock and roll for Pink, but he does cautiously explore sex, partly because it's being offered to him and partly because in his experience with Audrey, he's always been convinced that something is missing. This can't be what everyone else gets so worked up over, can it? Ultimately, Pink doesn't experiment too much on this front, as he knows he should be loyal to Audrey, but the drugs are great and the music is being lavished with praise and life is going well, or at least well enough. It does cause some frustration when the journalists and promoters with whom Pink must frequently chat don't seem to grasp the intensity of the album's themes, though.

1974: Early on in this year, Pink receives an award for The Dark Side of the Moon (don't ask me what it is, I haven't figured it out yet- although I do think it's probably not a Grammy). At the awards, he ends up bumping into his old bassist, who he expects to be sneering and condescending, but his bassist is coldly cordial. At the end of their brief conversation, though, Pink's bassist reminds him that he wouldn't have gotten this far if it wasn't for the rest of the band. That comment, coupled with how unmoved his bassist appears to be by Pink's success, rattles Pink to the core. Within a few weeks, he's begun to write his next solo album. During the writing process, Pink ends up ignoring a lot of his outside responsibilities unless they pertain to him, i.e. an interview he has to give, leaving Audrey stranded among items to buy, rooms to clean, and bills to pay. Pink, in turn, doesn't understand why Audrey can't wholeheartedly support him like she always has in the past. They begin to argue more frequently than they used to, or at least they argue more directly instead of Pink clamming up and refusing to talk about the issue, and Audrey deciding it's best to ignore what's troubling her and fix it herself. These arguments distress Pink, and he uses drugs and television to cope with his overwhelming feelings.

1975: Now that Pink's second album has been written, he goes into the studio to record it. Welcome to the Machine is a reflection on Pink's life in the music business, save one song, "Goodbye Blue Sky," inspired by his father. When it's released, critics hoot and holler over it just like they did with Dark Side of the Moon. It's only Pink's second solo album, and he's already biting the hand that feeds him! Grab the popcorn, everyone! The tour that accompanies Welcome to the Machine is less pleasant for Pink than his previous one, partly due to having parted on bad terms with Audrey before leaving for the tour, and also due to his discomfort in the ever-increasing concert venues. To deal with his negative feelings over the course of the tour, he turns to his old standbys- drugs and television- and begins to pursue sex in earnest (at least, to the degree that when it's offered to him, he won't turn it down), though he still feels somewhat uncomfortable in such situations. Still, it helps distract him from the grueling tour and from his mental problems, so he continues to partake.

1976: It's now become customary for Pink to block off a significant amount of time solely for writing before beginning work on his next album, and ever since he's started making bank as a solo artist, his label has gladly indulged him. For several months, Pink works on the concept for his next record, and spends an even longer amount of time recording it. During this time, his home life gets even rockier as his constant schmoozing and attention from the press often makes him unavailable to Audrey- not helped by his emotional unavailability, as even when he's in the house, it's almost like he might as well not be there to begin with. Longing for both an emotional and physical connection with her husband, Audrey begins to despair at Pink's customary gestures (wife's upset? Get her flowers. That's all you need to do!), which leads to Pink feeling that the effort is wasted and no longer doing even the bare minimum, which drives a wedge between himself and Audrey even more.

1977: Animals is released early in the year, to prepare for Pink's world tour that will accompany the album's release. Most of the songs on the album are a concept based on Pink's observations of society, but the tracks that bookend the album were written for Audrey. Audrey isn't sure if they're just a gesture like the flowers were, or if this means that Pink is still in love with her (or rather, how she perceives Pink as being), but this is enough to convince her to stay in the relationship a bit longer. For the rest of the year, Pink is on tour, and this one is miserable again. He's reached the top, but as the saying goes, it's lonely up there- not that his fans seem to mind, because more and more are latching themselves onto his work every day, and growing more and more rabid with each release. It gets to the point where Pink can't go outside on his own anymore, so he spends most of the tour sitting around in hotel rooms, where- you guessed it- he watches TV, takes drugs, and invites women to his bed. When he's onstage, the cavernous venues he's playing and the audience's lack of respect alienate him further from the experience. By the time the tour ends, all Pink wants to do is rest, and yet he has to attend to everything that Audrey's been trying to keep up with while he's been away, plus attend to what she wants from him, plus attend to his label's demands... It is Toom Uch. For a while, Pink gets the crazy idea to turn his back on the entire business, but this is exactly what he's wanted since he was a kid, so why isn't he happy?

1978: ...honestly, this one is kind of a blank year in my head- I think I should have started SF: ALS at the beginning of 1979 instead of 1980, but it's too late to change that now. Anyway, I imagine Pink does SOMETHING this year before he begins to work on his next album, because his next album is kind of hastily slapped together. Feeling lots of pressure to top himself, Pink spends most of the year writing different songs, flailing around looking for a style that speaks to him, before throwing away all his attempts. He also begins to seriously worry about the voices in his head and his bouts of paranoia, which he's previously tried his best to shut out. He tries to quit drugs, thinking they're to blame, but can't ever successfully do so. He worries that he's going mad and maybe he's lost his talent. He tries to connect with Audrey, to make things how they used to be, but he's too afraid of reaching out and being vulnerable around her after he's spent so long pushing her away. Finally, later in the year (I want to say in the autumn), he begins to sketch out some new material, which doesn't take very long for him to record at all.

March 1979: Rock 'n' Roll Refugee, which takes a swerve into arena rock music bordering on the generic, is released. At first Pink thought he was making an ironic album, parodying the type of shit that his freshly-minted fanboys would eat up, but by the end of the album's making, even he wasn't sure if it was meant to be ironic anymore. Rock 'n' Roll Refugee is nowhere near as popular as Pink's last three albums, but the lead single "Young Lust" earns it enough attention to justify going on another big tour.

June-July 1979: Pink tours Europe. Just like last time, he's not pleased with the tour, but this time he feels resigned and trapped in quiet desperation, rather than feeling outright irritable and unhappy. He still indulges in drugs, sex, and television, but even those coping mechanisms have become habitual.

October-November 1979: After a break, Pink tours America in the fall. This time, he doesn't even think about Audrey before leaving. However, as the tour wears on, Pink begins to miss Audrey- or at least, he begins to miss having someone beside him in bed, someone who can support him at his lowest. He knows what the reality is- that he and Audrey have been drifting apart for some time now, and she wouldn't just wholeheartedly accept him if he ever managed to get over his fear of opening up to him- but he clings to this fantasy. Often he calls her when he's feeling down, but due to time zones (perhaps a deliberate self-sabotage on Pink's part), Audrey never picks up the phone. The more Pink isolates himself, the worse his hallucinations get. They start to become visual as well as aural, although at first they're only brief flashes. Ironically, even as Pink hates the experience of touring more and more, wishing that he could just walk away from it all and start over again, his fans still go nuts over his performances, to the point where shortly before Pink's first show in LA, the fans cause a stampede as they try to get into the show, trampling several people. Pink is scheduled to perform in LA the next day as well, and during the day, he tries to call Audrey again, only for a man to pick up on the other end of the line. This sends Pink's paranoia into overdrive, and he believes that Audrey is cheating on him. In his depressing and desperation to stop thinking about it, he invites a groupie back to his room, only to discover once he gets there that his heart is most definitely not in it, and all he can manage to do is sit there and watch TV. The woman he's pushed aside still wants to engage him, but Pink is consumed with thoughts of what he sees as Audrey's betrayal and ends up breaking down, running the woman off and destroying his hotel room. As he slips into psychosis, Pink decides that this is the final straw and from now on, he's not going to let anyone hurt him again, because he's not going to let anyone come near him again, ever. He ends up shaving all of his hair off in what he sees to be a means of turning people away from him (if he looks like this, maybe those around him will feel disgusted or think he's crazy and they won't come near him), and also hallucinates and reflects on the past that created him. Eventually a maid finds him unconscious, and she tells the hotel manager, who comes in with Cyrus (yes, Cyrus is Pink's tour manager too, don't ask me how- I haven't figured it out yet) to take stock of the situation. A doctor is called, and Cyrus persuades the doctor to give Pink a shot to wake him up in time for the show. The shot, however, only worsens Pink's psychosis, and while he does make it to the venue, he believes that he's in charge of a fascist rally, thanks to his last thoughts being of World War II and also seeing the fans' worship of him as that of political zealots, the same sort of people who put Hitler in power. Instead of performing, Pink launches into a bigoted tirade against his fans, some of whom are disgusted, and some of whom continue to cheer. Then, caught in the grip of his psychosis, Pink imagines the end result of this type of violence he's trying to incite, and he's so horrified that he leaves the stage and seeks refuge in a restroom. The show is cancelled, and Pink is promptly hospitalized, then sent back to England, where he's hospitalized again.

December-January 1980: Pink spends these months admitted to a mental ward. He's plied with drugs that keep him compliant and on an even keel (don't ask me what they are, I haven't figured that out yet), learns several grounding techniques in therapy (though he doesn't use much of them), and writes in his journal until he realizes that the doctors are keeping track of what he writes. He receives no visitors until towards the end of January, when Cyrus arrives at the hospital bearing some news. Unfortunately, as badly as Pink wants to leave the music industry behind, there's no way out of his contract. He HAS to record one last album before Pasture Records will let him go. And with that, Strange Fascination: A Love Story begins.