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zot3-flopped · 1 month

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Sylvia Plath did not stick her head in an oven for this! When Taylor Swift took the Grammys stage last month to claim her award for Best Pop Vocal Album for Midnights, she saw that spotlight as an opportunity to announce her 11th studio album: The Tortured Poets Department. The follow-up cut to audience members—Swift’s music industry peers, mind you—told us all that we would ever need to know, and the collective disinterest across the crowd echoed through our TVs.

Folks from all walks of life took to social media to express a multitude of reactions. Swifties clamored to their beloved monarch’s forthcoming era, while others lambasted the terminally cringe title and artwork and ridiculed Swift for making a night recognizing musical achievements across an entire industry about herself—knowing perfectly well that it would send her fanbase into a surge that would, no doubt, overpower the excitement around the ceremony itself.

Quite a few people questioned whether or not that moment suggested that a critical—definitely not commercial—tide would turn against the world’s most-famous pop star. And, perhaps it has—but, to most, it will look like nothing more than a single ripple in Swift’s ocean of successes.

Swift remained relatively hush-hush about The Tortured Poets Department up until its release, leaving her fans, admirers and haters alike with nothing but an album title to ponder about. And it’s a bad title.

If you have never been in Swift’s corner, her taking the route of labeling her next “era” as “tortured” was likely catnip for your disinterest. If you are a fan—not necessarily a Swiftie, but even just a casual lover of her best and brightest work—you might be beside yourself about the first Swift album title longer than one word in 14 years.

In terms of popularity—certainly not always in terms of quality—no musician has been bigger this century than Swift, which makes it impossible to really buy into the “torture” of it all.

This is not to say that Swift being the most famous person in the world makes her immune to having multi-dimensional feelings of heartbreak, mental illness or what-have-you.

But, she has made the choice—as a 34-year-old adult—to take those complex, universal familiars and monetize them into a wardrobe she can wear for whatever portion of her Eras Tour setlist she opts to dedicate to the material.

Torture is fashion to Taylor Swift, and she wears her milieu dully. This album will surely get comparisons to Rupi Kaur’s poetry, either for its simplicity, empty language, commodification or all of the above.

And, sure, there are parallels there, especially in how The Tortured Poets Department, too, is going to set the art of poetry back another decade—as Swift’s naive call-to-arms of her own milky-white sorrow rings in like some quintessential “I am going to take pictures of a typewriter on my desk and have a Pinterest mood-board of Courier New font” iPhone fodder. 2013 called and it wants it capricious, suburban girl-who-is-taking-a-gap-year wig back!

Soaking our book reports in coffee or having our moms burn the edges with a kitchen lighter cannot come back into fashion; the cyclical notions of culture cannot make the space for such retreads.

There is nothing poetic about a billionaire—who, mind you, threatens legal action against a Twitter account for tracking her destructive private jet paths—telling stadiums of thousands of people every night that she sees and adores them.

Tavi Gevinson says it well in her Fan Fiction zine: “When 80,000 people are also crying, you become less special, too.” If Swift can return to one of her dozen beach houses across the world, kick up her feet and say “I’m a poet of struggle,” then who is to say that millions—maybe billions—of people with access to a notes app and a social media account won’t dream that dream, too?

Maybe that looks like a net-positive, but it’s inherently damning and destructive to take an art form that has long stood on the shoulders of resistance, of love and of opposition to power, systematic injustice and climate warfare and boil it down to the new defining era of your own 10-digit revenue empire. “My culture is not your costume,” yada, etc.

The Tortured Poets Department does begin with a shred of hope that, just maybe, Swift knows what she’s talking about—as she sneaks in a cheeky “all of this to say,” textbook transitional phrasing for poets, on opening track “Fortnight.”

But “Fortnight” unmasks itself quickly as a heady vat of pop nothingness, though it isn’t all Swift’s fault. “I was a functioning alcoholic, ‘til nobody noticed my new aesthetic,” she muses, attempting to bridge the gap between a behind-the-scenes life and on-stage performance—only for it to occur while propped up against the most dog-water, uninspired synth arrangement you could possibly imagine.

Between producer Jack Antonoff’s atrocious backing instrumental and the Y2K-era, teen dramedy echo chamber of a vocal harmony provided by out-of-place guest performer Post Malone, “Fortnight” chokes on the vomit of its own opaqueness.

“I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary,” Swift muses, and it sounds like satire. This is your songwriter of the century? Open the schools.

The Tortured Poets Department title-track features some of Swift’s worst lyricism to-date, including the irredeemable, relentlessly cringe “You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate, we declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist / I scratch your head, you fall asleep like a tattooed golden retriever” lines glazed atop some synthesizers and drums that just ring in as hollow, unfascinating costuming.

Aside from the Puth nod, which I can only discern as a joke (given the fact that he is one of the 150-most streamed artists in the world and is one of the blandest pop practitioners alive—I don’t care if he can figure out the pitch of any sound you throw at him), I think Antonoff should stick to guitar-playing. Get that man away from a keyboard, I’m begging you.

Synths can be, if you use them correctly, one of the most emotional and provocative instruments in any musician’s tool-box. There’s a reason why keyboards defined the 1980s; they rebelled against the very oppressive nature existing outside of the cultural company they kept. There’s resistance in electronic music that, while they brandish an aesthetic that, to a layman’s ears, seems like technicolor hues for any infectious pop track, it’s a genre that aches to tell its own story. That is simply not the case here, and that electronica hangs Swift out to dry when she drags us through the lukewarm “I laughed in your face and said, ‘You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith’ / This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel, we’re modern idiots” lines, only to hit us with a softly sung F-bomb that sounds like a billionaire’s rendition of that one Miranda Cosgrove podcast clip.

I used to rag pretty heavily on Reputation—mostly because I thought (and still do, mostly) that it sounded like Swift had given up on making interesting, progressive pop music; that, in the wake of her (arguably) best album, 1989, it seemed like she’d lost the plot on where to go next. But as she’s put out Midnights and The Tortured Poets Department back-to-back, I find myself clamoring for the Reputation-era more than ever—at least seven years ago, Swift wrote songs like she had something to prove and even more to lose.

That was the always-obvious charm of Reputation, even despite the downsides—that she took a big swing from the echelons of her own musical immortality, that the comforts of winning every award and selling out the biggest venues in the world were no longer pillowing her aspirations. Even though that swing didn’t land, she still made it in the first place—and Swift is at her best either when she is clawing upwards (Reputation) or faced with nowhere to go but into the studio and noodle with the bare-bones of her own sensibilities (folklore).

You get something like The Tortured Poets Department when the artist making it no longer feels challenged, where she strikes out looking.

The mid-ness of The Tortured Poets Department will not be a net-loss for Swift. She will sell out arenas and get her streams until she elects to quit this business (a phrase decidedly not in her vocabulary, surely).

She will sell more merch bundles than vinyl plants have the capacity to make, and rows of variant LP copies will haunt the record aisles of Target stores just as long as Midnights has—if not longer.

Perhaps, in five or six years’ time, we will speak of this record just as we now do of Reputation. But right now, it is obvious that Swift no longer feels challenged to be good. The Tortured Poets Department is the mark of an artist now interested in seeing how much their empire can atone for the sins of mediocrity.

Can Swift win another Album of the Year Grammy simply because she released a record during the eligibility period? The Tortured Poets Department reeks of “because I can,” not “because I should.”

On “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can),” Swift tries stepping into the shoes of the country renegades who came before her—the Tammy Wynettes and Loretta Lynns of the world. But her self-aggrandizing inflation of importance, glinting through via a seismically-bland bridge, is backed by a minimal set dressing of guitar, drum machine and keys.

“Good boy, that’s right, come close,” she sings. “I’ll show you Heaven if you’ll be an angel—all mine. Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man. No, really, I can.” On “Florida!!!,” Swift calls upon Florence + the Machine to help her sing the worst chorus of 2024: “Florida is one hell of a drug / Florida, can I use you up?”

Even Welch, who is a fantastic pop singer-songwriter in her own right, delivers a grossly watery verse: “The hurricane with my name, when it came I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away.”

Not even the typos on the Spotify promotional materials for this album could have foretold such offenses. I won’t even get into the sonics, because Antonoff just rewrites the same soulless patterns every time.

What separates The Tortured Poets Department from something like Reputation is that, on the latter, Swift made it known what was at stake and who she was making that album for—herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms (“Look What You Made Me Do” triumphs exactly because of this).

On The Tortured Poets Department, there is a striking level of moral nothingness. The stakes are practically non-existent, and the album sounds like it was made by someone who believes that they had no other choice but to finish it, as if Swift fundamentally believes that her creative measures are firmly embedded in the massive monopoly her name and brand currently hold on popular music. That’s how you get meandering pop songs about hookups, wine moms, Stevie Nicks comparisons, Jehovah’s Witness suit mentions, hollowed-out, tone-deaf nods to white-collar crime in lieu of empowerment and, topically, Barbie dolls.

(Don’t even get me started on the Anthology lyrics, which feature these absolute barn-burners: “Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto” and “My friends used to play a game where / We would pick a decade / We wished we could live in instead of this / I’d say the 1830s, but without all the racists / And getting married off for the highest bid.”) This album and its hackneyed grasps at relevance exist as “Did I just hear that?” personified, but in the most derogatory sense of the notion.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” features another low-point in Swift’s lyrical oeuvre, as she sings “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens, ‘cause he took me out of my box”—perhaps a measure of her capitalizing on the Barbenheimer mania that none of us could escape, not even the musician who spent most of 2023 flying across the world from one country to another.

But you, us, the listener—we want to believe that Swift makes these records because she has the artistic will, drive and interest to continue giving us parts of her story in such ways that they exist as an archival of her life.

But the problem is that, on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift is packaging her life into a form that is easily consumable for the 17 or 18 years olds who pour over her music. Just because her Eras Tour film is on Disney+ doesn’t mean she has to strip her songwriting (which we know can be, and has been, phenomenal) down for the sake of it being digestible by a wide spectrum of ages.

And, sure, maybe that makes the work accessible. But on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift makes Zoomer jargon her bag—titling a song after one of the most popular video games in the world and conjuring flickers of “down bad” and “I can fix him”—and it feels like she’s cosplaying because the Fountain of Youth was out of order.

Now that Swift is in her 30s, it sounds like she is infantilizing her own audience more than ever before—that singing to them at a level that could force them to reckon with something more akin with adulthood would be some kind of kink in the coil or her consumeristic threshold, that writing lyrics that sound like they were penned by a 30-year-old would, somehow, deter the interests of the billions of people who adore her.

If making one, continuous coming-of-age album is what Swift has been doing for 15 years, folklore and evermore were hiccups in the timeline—existing as the most fully-formed renderings of Swift’s own insecurities and concerns. They mirrored our platitudes towards an uncertain future with sweet, stirring remarks about isolation and heartbreak and the unavoidable, hard-worn truth about getting older. On those records, her larger-than-life living seemed, for once, to truly feel as close to the ground as ours.

Now, though, Taylor Swift is at the top of the mountain. Far better artists have made far worse records than The Tortured Poets Department, but you can’t read between the lines of this project. There is nothing to decipher from a place of quality.

Sure, Swift’s fan base will pour over these lyrics for the rest of their lives—insisting they know, for certain, which song is about who. But you cannot place a bad album on the shoulders of lore and expect it to be rectified.

We are now left at a crossroads. Women can’t critique Swift because they’ll run the risk of being labeled a “gender traitor” for doing so. Men can’t critique her because they’ll be touted as “sexist.”

And, sure, Swift is probably too easy a punching bag in this case—and most of the time, I would argue she is undeserving of being a victim of such barbs. But, you cannot write about someone being a “tattooed golden retriever” and get away with it and still retain your title as the best songwriter of your generation. You just cannot.

Sisyphus should be glad he never got the boulder to the top of the mountain—because Taylor Swift is showing us that such immortality and success ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. And, when you’re standing on the peak alone, who else is there left to hit?

In a recent interview with The Standard, Courtney Love said that Swift is “not interesting as an artist,” and I think The Tortured Poets Department proves as much. She has nothing to fight for, no doubters left to drown.

So where does she turn? Well, to boredoms of celebrity thinly veiled as sorrow everyone and their mother can latch onto—because we’ve all had to “ditch the clowns, get the crown” at some point in our lives, right?

The billionaire is having an identity crisis, but there are no social media apps for her to buy up. So she sings like Lana Del Rey and writes meta-self-referential songs about looking like Stevie Nicks.

What’s hollow about The Tortured Poets Department is that the real torture is just how unlivable these songs really are. No one can resonate with “So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, crash the party like a record, scratch as I scream ‘Who’s afraid of little old me?’ You should be.” And normally, that wouldn’t be an end-all-be-all for a pop record—but when your brand is built on copious levels of “I’m just like you!” as the demigod saying it to their fans does so from a multi-million-dollar production set, it’s hard to not feel nauseated by the overlording, overbearing sense of heavy-handed detritus we’re tasked with sifting through on The Tortured Poets Department.

Love’s words to Lana, her advice to “take seven years off,” should be applied to Swift. Now, that doesn’t mean that, to make a good album, you must sit on material for years and labor extensively through the sketching, shaping and recording in order for it to be transcendentally landmark. But it’s obvious now that not even Taylor Swift wants to be the head of an empire—that she, too, can’t outrun the damning fate of being plum out of ideas by hopping in her jet and skirting off to God knows where.

See you at the Grammys.

****

#this review is everything #anti taylor swift #taylor swift #travis kelce #3.6 !!!#hope Pitchfork comes for her too #jack antonoff #taylor swift reviews #the department of tortured poets

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reasonsforhope · 5 months

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[Warning: Graphic (some very graphic) shark-fishing pictures at the link.]

"Suhardi isn’t your average snorkeling guide. Born on the Indonesian island of Lombok, he’s spent his life on water. While he now seeks out sharks for the enjoyment of tourists, he once hunted sharks to help earn money to feed his family and educate his two children.

Suhardi was a fisherman for more than 20 years. He first started fishing working on his parents’ boat, but was then asked to join the crew of a shark boat where he was told he could earn a lot of money. Back on deck, he looks embarrassed to divulge what a meager wage it was, but finally confesses he earned around $50 for up to a month at sea.

Now he and 12 other former shark fishermen are part of The Dorsal Effect, an ecotourism company that helps ex-shark hunters find a new vocation. Each week, the team takes groups of tourists, schoolchildren and university students to off-the-grid locations and guides them around pristine reefs. Each trip is designed to take guests on an exploratory journey of both the shark trade and marine conservation through the eyes of the Sasak people of Lombok.

Lombok is a hotspot for marine diversity, sitting just east of the Wallace Line, a biogeographical boundary separating Asia and Australia and their respective fauna. Pristine coral gardens and around 80 species of sharks can be found in its waters. The island is also part of the world’s largest shark-fishing nation. Only the whale shark (Rhincondon typus) is protected in Indonesia; all other sharks can be legally caught.

The Dorsal Effect first launched in 2013, a year after Suhardi met Singaporean ecologist Kathy Xu, who had traveled to Lombok to find out more about the shark trade. The diminutive but quietly determined Xu wanted to protect sharks, but because she knew shark fishing was poorly paid and dangerous, she wanted to hear the fishermen’s stories too. They told her how once they could fish for sharks close to shore, but now with the shark population dropping, the fishermen said they needed to travel farther out to sea, only to come home with a relatively poor catch. The reduced catch also meant reduced pay, so they often couldn’t cover their costs...

Yet, when Xu asked why fishers didn’t seek out another trade, she learned they didn’t want to be separated from the sea. They saw it as part of their heritage.

But as they spoke longer, the shark fishermen talked about the coral gardens that could be found under the waves, ones that only they knew about. Inspired by a whale shark diving trip she’d taken with scientists on the Great Barrier Reef, Xu had an idea. “If such spots exist,” she recalls telling the fishers, “I could take tourists out with you and pay you more than you earned shark fishing”.

At first, Xu guided the former shark fishermen on how to become eco-friendly tour operators. They dropped anchor away from the reef, served guests plant-based dishes, and made sure all trash was taken back to shore. But then Xu saw that something special was happening: The former fishermen had started to take the guest experience into their own hands, making sure tourists felt at home. Suhardi painted “Welcome” in large letters over the front of his boat, fitted green baize to the top deck for outdoor seating, and hung curtains in the cabin so his guests could enjoy some shade.

Suhardi has already bought a new boat with his earnings from snorkeling trips. “Every day is my best day,” laughs Suhardi, whose smile always travels from his mouth to his eyes.

While they were receiving tourists from across the globe, there was another group that Xu wanted to reach out to. “I think it was the teacher in me who felt impassioned about influencing the young,” she says. She reached out to schools and created a five-day program that would help students understand the shark trade and local conservation efforts. During the program, paid for by the school and students, participants would not only meet the ex-shark fishermen so they could ask them about their lives, but also hear from NGOs such as the Wildlife Conservation Society about their efforts to slow the trade. The Dorsal Effect also hired marine biologists to host nightly lectures and help the students with their field surveys...

The students were faced with the realities of the fishing trade, but they were also encouraged to take a balanced view by The Dorsal Effect team. The villagers weren’t just taking the fins, and throwing away the rest of the shark; they processed every piece of the animal. While they did sell the meat and fins to buyers at the market, they also sold the teeth to jewelers, and the remains for pet food.

The Dorsal Effect also takes students on an excursion to the fishermen’s village, a small island that lies off the coast of Lombok. Marine biologist Bryan Ng Sai Lin, who was hired by The Dorsal Effect team, says that on one trip with students he was surprised by how quickly the young people understood the situation. “One of them said it’s good to think about conservation, but at the same time these people don’t really have any other choice,” Lin says....

Conservation scientist Hollie Booth of Save Our Seas, which does not work directly with The Dorsal Effect, says the need to provide legal profitable alternatives to shark fishing is critical: “We are never going to solve biodiversity and environment issues unless we think about incentives and take local people’s needs into account. These kinds of programs are really important.”"

-via Mongabay, December 15, 2023

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dlstmxkakwldrlarchive · 4 months

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(throwback) SHINee Seek Magazine Vol. 2

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daisyblog · 1 year

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Our Story

Summary: YN and Harry have known each other since 2010 when YN's brother, Louis, is put in a band with Harry and three other boys when they auditioned for The X Factor. From the very beginning, YN and Harry were always close, and as time went on feelings grew deeper. This is YN and Harry's story. Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell

YN:

YN Tomlinson An insight into YN's life.

Tattoos YN's tattoos.

Songs Songs (or parts of songs) Harry's written about YN.

Lockscreen Harry and YN's lockscreen photos over the years.

TikTok:

Name a Girl

Doorframe

Couples Quiz

Belong Together

2011:

Will You Go On A Date With Me? YN and Harry spend time together and their feelings start to grow. First Date YN and Harry go on their first date. Caught YN and Harry’s relationship is exposed after a photo of them kissing is leaked. Written in Louis' POV.

Caught: Pt2 How Niall, Zayn and Liam found out about Harry and YN's relationship.

2012:

Trust YN and Harry take the next step in their relationship.

Worried YN is worried after her and Harry take the next step in their relationship, and ends up talking to Anne about it.

2013:

Kiss and Make Up Harry and YN have their first argument.

Happy Birthday YN It's YN's Birthday.

YN in This Is Us YN appears in clips in One Direction: This Is Us. Story Of My Life YN appears in the Story Of My Life music video.

2014:

Team Niall YN at The Niall Horan Charity Football Match.

Where We Are YN appears in clips in Where We Are San Siro.

Late YN realises her period is late.

Mother's Love Anne and Jay can see the love Harry and YN have for each other.

Night Changes YN in Harry's part of the Night Changes music video.

2015:

Never Have I Ever Harry gets embarrassed playing a game of Never Have I Ever on The Jonathan Ross Show.

2016:

Just Hold On Harry takes care of YN.

2017:

Teddy Harry surprises YN with a new little addition to their family.

2018:

Little Break People find out that Harry and YN have broken up.

Cherry How Cherry was made.

To Be So Lonely How To Be So Lonely was made.

Adore You How Adore You was made.

2019:

Burnout Harry and Louis help YN.

Zach Sang Show Louis discusses a small part of YN and Harry's relationship on a talk show.

Spill Your Guts: Harry Styles & YN Tomlinson Harry challenges YN to a game of Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts. Friendship Test Niall Horan and YN Tomlinson Take a Friendship Test.

I'm A Celebrity...Get Me Out Of Here YN is on I'm A Celeb.

2020:

Unexpected Visitor YN has an unexpected visitor.

2022:

Zane Lowe YN is mentioned in Harry’s interview with Zane Lowe.

Uncle Popstar Freddie goes to one of Harry's shows.

Capital FM Interview Harry talks about his new music, My Policeman and Don’t Worry Darling…and of course YN.

Venice Film Festival YN and Louis attend the Venice Film Festival with Harry.

2023:

Proud Sister YN is by Louis side at his London Premiere for All of Those Voices.

YN and Harry Love On Tour YN and Harry's Outfits and Instagrams during Love On Tour.

Love At Wembley Harry asks YN to marry him at Wembley.

"I'm here for your girlfriend" Harry announces he's engaged during a Wembley Show.

“Oh Harry” Anne’s reaction to ‘Keep Driving’ lyrics.

Thank You Harry and YN's Love On Tour thank you posts on their Instagram stories.

Faith In The Future Tour Snippets of YN and Harry supporting Louis on his tour.

Niece YN's reaction to having her first Niece.

Mrs Burton YN's reaction to Lottie getting engaged.

Hair YN's reaction to Harry's new hairstyle.

Pregnancy Follow YN and Harry's journey through pregnancy.

2024:

Uncle Harry Harry and YN meet Gemma’s baby.

Wedding Bells Harry and YN finally say “I do!”.

Love Day Harry and YN celebrate their first Valentine’s Day as a married couple.

Hormones YN gets emotional listening to Louis’ interview.

Birthday Twin YN and Harry welcome their baby girl into the world.

Uncle Louis Louis meets Grace for the first time.

Dad Mode Harry is overprotective of Grace and worries about everything.

Love for Grace Instagram posts about Grace.

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rihanna-online · 11 years

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diamonds world tour, brooklyn (may 5, 2013)

#rihanna #diamonds world tour #2013

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oftlunarialmoon · 12 days

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SHOWS on YOUTUBE

Animal Planet

Ruby Gloom

Total Drama Island

Total Drama Action

Total Drama World Tour

Peppa Pig

Total Drama Rama

Whisker Haven Tales with the Palace Pets | Season 1

Marble Hornets (found footage/scary themes)

LPS Popular

MPGIS (Swearing warning)

Randy Feltface Writes a Novel (Swearing warning)

Puppet History (Swearing warning)

Too Many Spirits (Swearing warning)

Ghost Files (Swearing warning and scary warning)

Are You Scared? (Swearing warning and scary warning)

The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

My Melody English Sub

1 HOUR COMPILATION 💖 Ever After High 💖ALL Chapters

Every Monster High Episode EVER! | 6 Hour Compilation | Monster High

6TEEN Special New Year Marathon | RETRO RERUN

A Big Discovery | Bratz Series Compilation

Frenemies | Bratz Series Compilation

2 Hours of the Ghoul Squad! | Monster High

ALL EPISODES Season 4 ✨ | DC Super Hero Girls

ALL EPISODES Season 2 Vol 1 ✨ | DC Super Hero Girls

Vampirina: Going Batty 🦇 / Scare B&B 👻 | S1 E1 | Full Episode

GUMBALL OUT OF CONTEXT MARATHON (3 hours)

Gravity Falls Funny Moments | Season 1

Molang and Piu Piu have lost their way 😱 | Compilation For Kids

Kid-E-Cats | NEW Episodes Compilation | Best cartoons for Kids 2023

Dora FULL EPISODES Marathon! ➡️ | 3 Full Episodes - 2 Hours | Dora the Explorer

Elmo's World: All Day With Elmo (2013 DVD)

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saintlaurentisms · 4 months

Note

hi my love! been obsessed with the fictional club scene recently; was wondering if you could write me a quick smutty club bathroom/dancefloor blurb!!! have fun with it, i love ya <3 :3

fulfilling the fantasy.

A/N: i had so much fun writing this, holy shit. this is dedicated to all of the harry & ashton fans in the world (and on the internet!), i see you and i believe you have taste.

gif credit.

summary: in which, you and your boyfriend go out to celebrate a successful first tour gig and the adrenaline seriously heightens emotions. ~ featuring ashton irwin of 5 seconds of summer.

content warning: smut (semi-public p-in-v sex in front of a mirror, voyeurism, threesome (???), dirty talk (degradation + praise), oral sex (male receiving), some hair pulling, daddy kink.) this work is intended for those 18+ and should be read by mature audiences only.

word count: 2.7k+ words.

The post-concert adrenaline hadn’t wavered in Harry’s veins, that much was evident. When you looked at him, all you could see was the radiance of energy and purity of happiness; evergreen in his eyes, the rose color in his lips, the blackness of ink that shone underneath the arctic hues of blue and white in the nightclub you and Harry had ventured to in the darkness of the evening. It was risky going out, especially at a time where One Direction fans were probably having their own adventure, still riding the high of seeing their favorite band perform live, but you nor Harry seemed to care.

Tonight was all about him, all about celebrating a successful first show and the beginning of the On the Road Again tour. The rest of the boys had preoccupied themselves with their own forms of fun, leaving you and Harry by yourselves. Upon entering the venue, you beelined towards the bar, your hand in Harry’s with your heads bowed to try and keep your identities a bit of a secret. You’re in the middle of ordering a round of vodka shots for you both before you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn your head to get a glance at who could have tapped you, though you’re already suspecting it was a fan.

You were wrong.

“Holy shit, Ashton?” You exclaim, eyebrows furrowing at the man in front of you. Harry’s eyes widen a bit at your words, turning his body fully to face the drummer, abandoning the bartender and the prospect of alcohol. It had been a while since you’d interacted with Ashton in person, only really communicating via text or video chat since you last saw him a year ago. Of course, it had been far longer for Harry; One Direction had 5 Seconds of Summer on tour with them in 2013 and 2014 and they all grew quite close during that time, but their communication had fizzled out due to how busy both bands became.

“I knew it was you!” Ashton grins, hazel eyes glimmering with excitement as the pair of you take each other in. The buzz of chemistry between you and the Australian was palpable – palpable enough for anyone to notice it, including Harry.

Harry’s lips twitch up into a small smile at the interaction taking place in front of him, yet an ugly, gnawing feeling in his gut is slowly beginning to grow; he knew you were attracted to Ashton when you’d met back in 2013 and that Ashton reciprocated those feelings once you both had gotten to know one another. However, you and Harry had just begun dating and knew that nothing would come of your little crush on the drummer. Still, a deep-seated insecurity nestled its way into his bones and, apparently, hadn’t quite left.

Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but the unsettling amount of jealousy your boyfriend was beginning to feel made his evergreen eyes go emerald; hard, darkened. “We’re celebrating tour,” Harry cuts in, instinctively wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “the first show was earlier on.”

“Yeah, I heard through the grapevine,” Ashton replies playfully, “Niall. Niall’s the grapevine. He asked if the boys and I could catch the show, but we were busy. Will you be in Australia for a bit?”

“Yes! Yeah, we’ll be in Australia. 1D has shows in Brisbane and Melbourne.” The words tumble out of your mouth and it sounds as though you’re a walking advert for your boyfriend’s band. Clearly, Ashton finds it cute because he’s chuckling at your unfiltered enthusiasm the minute you stop rambling.

“Well, it was great to see you guys. I didn’t mean to intrude.” He smiles, though his words are a slight dig at your boyfriend; Ashton could tell Harry’s guard was up and the jealousy that he exuded was crystal clear. At least, it was to him.

You, on the other hand, were too wrapped up in excitement to truly take note.

The drummer leaves you and Harry at the bar, going back into the atmosphere of the club. You spot him joining a group of friends at a table. Part of you wishes he’d stay and chat more, but the evening wasn’t about socializing, it was about basking in the glory of your popstar beau.

Everything seems to return back to normal; you turn your attention back to the bar and order that round of vodka shots for yourself and Harry. The two of you are two shots deep before his gaze falls on you, “D’you want to fuck him?”

You choke on the alcohol, sputtering slightly with wide eyes at the incredibly unexpected question. “W-What? What the fuck are you- are you talking about?” You speak between breaths, trying to regain composure. Harry wasn’t usually so direct, this only happened whenever sex was involved, so why he was so upfront confused you a bit.

“Do you want to have sex with Ashton?”

“Harry,” You look at him incredulously, “don’t be ridiculous. No, I don’t want to sleep with Ashton.”

“Don’t lie, Y/N. You’ve always fancied him, we both know that.”

“So what? I’m with you, I love you. Want you, not him. It’s just a little celebrity crush, H. You know I’d-”

“Darling,” Harry interrupts with a chuckle, amused by your immediate instinct to reassure him that you’d never entertain infidelity. He knew how committed you were to him. “S’ not what I mean. I know you wouldn’t cheat on me. M’ askin’ if you’d ever thought about fucking him.”

You weren’t sure whether to be truthful or to set aside your feelings. On one hand, he was only asking you if you’d thought about it or had ever fantasized about it, yet on the other hand, a part of you was sure that if you answered with the truth, he’d get angry with you. However, Harry had never been the type to get angry over honesty. In fact, he preached being truthful.

“I’ve… thought about it, yeah. It isn’t really a fantasy about him fucking me, though. It’s more- well, it’s more about you and him.”

Your boyfriend blinks, “A threesome?”

“Kind of? I- I guess you could describe it that way. You, uhm.. You take turns.”

At this, the popstar is silent. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks for a brief moment.

“We share you.”

You cringe at Harry’s words. The lewdness of his sentence lingers and makes you feel queasy, “When you put it like that, I sound like a slut. I hate how that sounds.”

“Baby, there’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to explore having more than one sexual partner. ‘Spose it is a threesome you’re wanting. I…” He trails off, pearly teeth nibbling at his lower lip as he starts to think deeply once more, diving head first into the depths of his head.

“Yeah?” You coax, eyebrows raising slightly.

“I’ll be honest, m’ a bit jealous about it- the idea of another man takin’ you. But, if it’s just a one time thing, I think I could be okay with it.” Harry replies sincerely, green eyes meeting your own briefly. “One night only, the two of us makin’ you ours for an evening.”

Those words go straight to your core and your brain begins to conjure up filthy images of Ashton and Harry taking turns pleasing you. Your thighs squeeze together in order to quell the heat beginning to bloom in between them. “Please?” You ask quietly, gazing up at your boyfriend with faux innocence; a little look like this tends to send Harry into dominant overdrive.

He smirks, “Text him and tell him to meet us in the bathroom, love.”

Within eight minutes, Ashton is tapping on the club’s bathroom door before swiftly entering and locking it behind him. His hazel eyes glance over at Harry, then at you. “Are you sure about this?”

You’d texted the drummer about the situation when your boyfriend had told you to, not leaving any important details out of it. It was made clear: you, Harry and Ashton, fucking in the club’s bathroom. The only opportunity you’d ever get to have both of the men you deemed incredibly fit and had the most chemistry with.

You nod confidently, “I’m sure, I promise.”

Like a switch had flipped, Ashton’s gaze meets Harry’s again, but there’s a haze in it; his once bright hazel eyes are clouded with desire. Some silent conversation is had between their eyes, maybe it’s both men agreeing to the terms – whatever it is, they both exude an aura of dominance that has your heartbeat increasing. You’ve never wanted to be on your knees this badly before.

The feeling of Harry’s lips brushing against your ear brings you out of your reverie and a short gasp leaves your lips as they trail downward and press a deep kiss to your neck. Ashton walks forward, one of his hands cupping your cheek as he brings his lips to yours, sealing your fate.

The affair becomes a blur of quick movements and kisses shared as time progresses. The soft clink of belts being unbuckled and heavy breathing fills the room when you’re finally brought down to your knees, eyes feigning innocence as you look up at Ashton. His hand is wrapped around his cock, the tip of it right at your lips.

“Go on, baby. Show Ashton how much of a good little slut y’ are.” Harry encourages you, leaning against the sink with his hand tugging slowly at his length. Without much else, your lips wrap around the drummer’s dick, your head bobbing up and down in order to take more of it in.

“Fuck,” Ashton swears through gritted teeth, his free hand weaving itself into your hair, gently guiding your movements, “so good, doll. Keep goin’ just like that for me.”

You do, you allow him to guide your movements with each tug on your hair, furthering his cock into your mouth. It’s sloppy; tears are welling in your eyes whenever he hits the back of your throat, your saliva is coating his dick and your chin. “She’s such a slut for it, Styles. Damn, you got lucky.” Ashton groans low in his throat, which makes Harry smirk.

“Bet you’re absolutely dripping, aren’t you baby? Adore being used, don’t you?” Your boyfriend taunts you, evergreen eyes watching you suck off his friend. All you can do is look at him as validation for his statement.

Ashton’s fingers wrapping in the strands of your hair becomes slightly fiercer, pulling and pushing your lips up and down his length as he chases euphoria. “Fuck, I’m close.” He warns, hazel eyes shutting as he tries his damndest to hold on for just a bit longer.

Your eyes flit towards Harry, who’s still watching you give Ashton a blowjob, his hand tugging at his cock lazily. A devilish grin has throned itself upon his lips, “Cum for her, Ash.”

The drummer’s fingers twitch momentarily, then still. A guttural groan leaves his lips as his head tilts back and his cock throbs in between your lips, emptying himself into your mouth. Eagerly, you swallow what he gives you – and it’s a lot; thick streams of cum paint your tongue white.

Ashton pulls away from you once his cock starts to soften, tucking himself back into his trousers and gently helping you up from off your knees. “That was- shit, that was really fuckin’ good.”

“I- uh.. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You reply a bit bashfully. “Now, do you mind if Harry and I…” You trail off, hoping he’d take the hint that you wanted to be alone with your significant other.

Thankfully, he does. Ashton turns to look at himself in the mirror above the sink, straightening himself out before saying goodbye to you and Harry, then asking your boyfriend to text him. He unlocks the door and disappears into the club.

You make quick work of locking it once more, then face your boyfriend. Harry gestures you over to him and the minute you’re standing in front of him, both of his hands grip your waist. He wastes no time in undressing your lower half and bending you over the sink, one of his hands reaching to pull at your hair so your eyes are focused on your reflections in the mirror. He’s being rough, but you hadn’t expected much else; whenever he got really aroused, his dominant side would peak significantly.

“Did you like having Ashton’s dick down your throat, darling? I know you did, I can feel just how wet you are.” He teases you, the head of his length pressing up against your entrance. “I think you enjoyed it a bit too much, Y/N. D’you need to be reminded of who you belong to, baby?”

You swallow thickly, eyes meeting his through the mirror, “Yes.”

“Sorry? Didn’t quite hear you, love.”

A shaky sigh leaves your lips, “Yes, Daddy.”

The feeling of Harry’s cock stretching you out overwhelms your senses, your nails claw at the sink as he bottoms out. “Have to be quick,” He grunts as his hips start to move, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy at an unrelenting pace, “but I’ll make damn sure you know who you belong to once m’ finished.”

You can’t speak, your lips are parted as heavy breaths and choked moans roll off of your tongue as your boyfriend takes you. Harry’s right hand finds your clit, the pads of his fingers start toying with the sensitive pearl. “Look at you, takin’ my cock like the perfect slut that y’ are. Should fulfill more of your fantasies if this is how bloody good you’ll be.” He growls in your ear.

“Yes- yes, please!” You mewl, the prospect of exploring more of your desires with the man that you love makes you more aroused, your pussy clenches around his cock at the thought. “I- I love being your p-perfect little slut.”

“I know, angel. So fuckin’ perfect f’ Daddy.”

A whine leaves your lips, “God, Harry, I’m gonna cum.”

“Not before you tell me who you belong to, baby.”

Another whine leaves your lips; he’s playing a game with you and if you don’t obey the rules, you won’t get to orgasm. You need to orgasm.

“Yours, Harry. I- I’m all yours.”

He gives a particularly rough thrust and his teeth scrape at your ear, “Who’s pussy is this?”

You gasp, “Yours.”

“That’s right, angel. Now you can cum f’ me.”

Harry’s fingers on your clit continue to rub quick circles, his eyes fixated on your features twisting up in pure ecstasy as your orgasm hits you hard; jaw slack, eyes pinched shut, pussy throbbing around his cock.

The feeling of you squeezing around him like a vice triggers his own orgasm. He buries his face into the crook of your neck to muffle the loud groan that reverberates in his chest, his stomach clenching as he empties himself inside of you.

“Holy shit.” You chuckle breathlessly as your orgasms begin to dissipate. Harry’s hand falls away from your clit and he gingerly begins to pull out of you, eyebrows furrowing a bit at the feeling.

“Are you alright?” He asks, helping you steady yourself as you straighten up.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m alright. I do have a question for you,” You begin, just as you both start redressing, “were you being serious about fulfilling more of my fantasies? Or was that the testosterone talking?”

Harry grins, “Definitely not just the testosterone. We’ve never actually discussed what sexual fantasies you’ve had.”

“Do you have any?” You ask curiously, quietly wracking your brain for a possible answer he might give.

“Not very many, but I do have a few. Don’t think we should begin discussing them now, darling. We’ve been in here for a long time.” He replies, taking a quick glance at himself in the mirror, then wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Right,” You giggle, “we should go.”

Harry reaches to unlock the bathroom door and leads you back out into the club, the both of you exiting with smug expressions on your faces and one shared thought…

If this was only one of your fantasies, what else could you both explore?

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gatheringbones · 2 years

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[“Watching erotic films—movies that are driven forward by sex scenes—is different from looking at single photos, pictorials, snippets, clips. The medium, the experience of going all the way through an eighty-minute feature, is an entirely different ride than a momentary glimpse, a fast-forward.

To prove it, I started throwing living room movie shows for my friends. I would give away my screener copies and show segments of my favorites. It was like I was offering free rocket tickets to the moon. My neighborhood audience was fascinated—and completely inexperienced. The living room got a little bigger—I created an educational show-and-tell clips lecture called “How to Read a Dirty Movie,” and another one called “All Girl Action: The History of Lesbian Erotic Cinema,” which I started premiering at independent theaters like the Castro and the Roxie. I hit the festival circuit all over the world, including a daring mission by the British Film Institute to get my movies in, despite ironclad UK customs rules against them.

One college-tour memory stands out. In rural Blacksburg, Virginia, a closeted gay student got ahold of student union funds for Friday Night Fun! at Virginia Tech to bring me out there for one of my clips shows. This is a school with a history of devotion to Southern white boys and military service. The students weren’t even allowed to watch R-rated films on campus. I didn’t find out this history until I was moments away from the podium. My young sponsor looked like he’d just detonated a bomb and his face was covered in sweat. “My Dirty Movie” clips show started, which happens to begin with excerpts of two young handsome army cadets making out on a firing range. I thought the roof was going to cave in. Blacksburg boys were running for the doors, making vomiting sounds, screaming. The students who stayed in their seats watched a full spectrum of sexual and human emotion, delivered by porn’s finest auteurs. They got more sex education in one hundred minutes than they’d had in their entire lives.

The stunned president of the Young Republicans, a co-sponsor of Friday Night Fun!, took me out to a fast food dinner afterward. He told me that he found it curious that the scenes of lesbians making love had pleased him, while the scenes of gay men had given him a stomachache. I was impressed that he was calm enough to observe his own reactions.

“I don’t disagree with all of what you do,” he said, “but I think it’s entirely unjust that you receive checks from the government for your homosexuality.”

I stared at him with my mouth full of fries. “Oh, it’s not that bad,” I said, “I only get half as much because I’m bisexual.”]

susie bright, from the birth of the blue movie critic, from the feminist porn book: the politics of producing pleasure, edited by tristan taormino, constance henley, and celine perreñas shimizu, 2013

#susie bright #tristan taormino #currently reading #bi literature #history stuff

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 7 months

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We Could Be The Greatest Team.

(Y/N) JENNER, best known for being on the reality tv show ‘keeping up with the kardashians.’ She’s also known to be the gorgeous fiancé of pop sensation, the one and only Mr. Harry Styles.

With her growing up with five sisters, that made her a very family oriented person, and Harry likes to think that trait is what got him to initially ask her to be his in the first place.

There first proper date took place in 2013, the two of them being only nineteen at the time, they didn’t want everyone getting involved in there relationship because it was there private life, that was until they chose to go to her older sister, Kim’s wedding where the two were pictured together, very very, close.

2017 was a very big year for the two of them. The year they got engaged to each other. Harry got down on one knee in his Italian villa, there first proper house together that they brought, because in his eyes he knew they would spend forever together.

(Y/N) has been there through it all, so there was no doubt he wanted her to be his wife. On the tours, when One Direction went on there hiatus, when his solo album was released and when he won his Grammy’s she was there to hold his hand and would always be able to ground him if he was having a slightly bad day. Never wanting to go to bed without saying those three simple words.

There wedding was supposed to be in the summer of 2020, but so many obstacles got in there way, COVID, stress from cancelled tours and well a baby. A bouncing baby boy who came screaming into the world in September, 2021.

Sonny Harry Robin Styles.

There journey was a love story like no other, and nothing could ever break them apart. They were a team, two peas in a pod, the yin to her yang, the bestest of friends.

authors note: this isn’t really a series per say, in my opinion it’s more a trope then anything else. when inspiration strikes or i get a certain request, they will get published and tagged here for you all to see:)

if a tag list is something you would like me to set up, let me know <3

real life:

instagram concepts:

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mikeywayarchive · 1 year

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Mikey Way: “I was borderline terrified a lot of the time My Chemical Romance was active. I was learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night!”

By Gregory Adams ( Bass Player ) published June 9th 2023

The reunited emo kings’ low-end ranger reveals why he swapped out his signature Fender Mustang for a sparkling new signature Jazz Bass, learning bass in arenas, and how he overcame insecurity about his chops

Full interview under cut:

My Chemical Romance’s reunion has seen bassist Mikey Way thrumming through the high pomp punk of The Black Parade and Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge favorites with a familiar rhythmic fortitude, but keen-eyed band obsessives have probably noticed the musician is no longer sporting the snazzy, silver-flake Squier Mustang signature model Fender built for him back in 2012.

The good news is that’s because, as Fender have just formally announced, Way has a brand-new – but just as glammy – Jazz Bass out now. There’s a good reason why Way’s made the switch: the Jazz Bass is his first love.

Though he started out on guitar, Way got the hang of a four-string in the mid ‘90s while playing a loaned-out Jazz Bass in his pre-My Chemical Romance project, Ray Gun Jones. He upgraded to a silver-finish Jazz of his own by the time MCR started touring in the early ‘00s, but a trailer mishap led to that instrument getting smashed to pieces on a highway.

Way tells Guitar World that he eventually became obsessed with the short-scale sturdiness of a Mustang bass guitar as My Chemical Romance were writing their 2010 full-length, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, after fooling around with a model Duff McKagan had left at North Hollywood’s Mates Rehearsal Studio. By 2012, Way had his Squier model in stores.

It was during the downtime after My Chemical Romance went on hiatus in 2013, though, that the stubbiness of his Mustang became a little hard to handle.

“I stayed away from playing bass for a little while, which is natural – I was just decompressing,” Way explains. “Then, sometime in 2014, I picked up the bass again, to get my chops back, [but] I noticed that the Mustang felt strange to me.”

After reaching out to the folks at Fender, Way got a grip on his playing by stretching out on the longer-necked Jazzes they sent him. Way’s take on the Jazz Bass is outfitted with ’70s-style single-coil pickups, and a thinline “C”-shaped maple neck the bassist says is super-speedy.

The finish is silver, of course, but Way also wanted an aesthetically inkier black pickguard. The headstock, likewise, pops with its matching gloss-black finish.

Speaking with Guitar World, Way gets into the glam and grunge gods who inspired his love of a good sparkle coat, overcoming performance anxiety, and why a steady attack wins the bass race every time.

What were some of the musts when it came to designing this latest signature?

“I’ve been obsessed with the sparkle finish as far back as I can remember. Growing up in the ‘90s, the silver-flake [finish] was big in alternative music. Chris Cornell had the Gretsch Silver Jet, [Daniel Johns] from Silverchair had one – [with] the imagery the Smashing Pumpkins used, they liked sparkles.

“Ace Frehley, of course, was big into flake finishes, and as a kid, you love the larger-than-life, comic book world of Kiss. [And there’s] David Bowie – the glam rock stuff. That flake finish makes me think of so many different things, but that’s why I love it so much.

“I remember being younger and going into stores and seeing a flake finish and being like, 'Oh my god, that’s an expensive [looking guitar] – I can’t afford that, let alone play it.' It was almost intimidating.”

One aesthetic difference between your Mustang model and this Jazz is that you didn’t throw a racing stripe on this one.

“I thought about bringing it back and keeping the continuity. Maybe somewhere down the line we’ll throw a racing stripe on this. The thing with [seeing a] racing stripe was always like, 'This player is a badass!'”

Is there a psychology behind removing the racing stripe, then?

“The psychology behind it is that I forgot about it. When My Chemical Romance was talking about doing reunion shows [in 2019], I’d contacted Michael Schulz from Fender and was like, 'Is it OK if I make a new bass for this [next] era of My Chemical Romance?' I wanted to take my past and bring it to the future – taking my Mustang and melding it with the Jazz Basses that I loved so much.

“I tried to have my cake and eat it, too. I wanted the thinner neck, and I wanted the silver-flake, but I wanted it on a Jazz Bass. They knocked it out of the park immediately.”

Getting back to how you used to admire those silver-flake guitars in the shops, you actually started out as a guitarist, right?

“So, the story goes that my brother [My Chemical Romance vocalist Gerard Way] had a Sears acoustic guitar when he was 10 years old. We would take a shoelace and make a strap, and we would stand on the couch pretending we were in Iron Maiden. And then it got real around ’93-’94, which lines up with the rise of alternative music. You started to see people that looked exactly like you, and they were playing guitar. They were playing Fender Strats!

“My brother got a Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue. I found it not too long ago, and Michael from Fender hot-rodded it. That’s how I cut my teeth – that Mexican Stratocaster [was] my first foray into really trying to learn how to play guitar. I would watch bootlegs of concerts, and watch [guitarists’] hands and fingers – Thom Yorke, Billy Corgan, Noel Gallagher, Jonny Greenwood. I would watch what they were doing. It all started from that.

“Bass came out of necessity, twice. Me and my brother had a band called Ray Gun Jones, I guess in ’95-’96. It was kind of Weezer-ish, or us doing a surf-punk thing [with] a little bit of pre-mid-west emo. At the time we were really into Weezer, Jawbreaker, Promise Ring, Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Sunny Day Real Estate.

“[Ray Gun Jones] needed a bass player, so my brother was like 'Hey, do you want to play bass for my band?' I was already a huge fan – I’d always tag along to practices. The ex-bass player let me borrow their bass. We had 4-5 songs, and I got the rudimentary from that. In that era, everyone was like, 'I want to be a guitar hero,' but I realized I had a natural knack for [bass]. I picked it up right away.

“Then, with My Chemical Romance, it was the same thing. My brother was like, 'We need a bass player,' and I was like, 'Well, this is familiar' [laughs]. 'Here’s the demo; learn these songs.' They weren’t terribly difficult.”

Was that bass you had borrowed a Fender Jazz?

“Yup, I’ve only ever played Fender. I’ve tried tons of other basses from other companies, but it always feels alien to me.”

You mentioned studying the playing of Thom Yorke or Billy Corgan through those bootleg vids. Were there any bassists that you treated similarly, to understand the mechanics of bass?

“Matt Sharp from Weezer. I tried to ape him in the beginning, but my attack sounds vaguely reminiscent of a Smashing Pumpkins recording. I would learn Siamese Dream and Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and the Blue Album [the band’s 1994 self-titled debut] by Weezer. Those were the three albums that I put the most time into learning. That’s in my DNA.”

How about from a hyper-local perspective. If My Chemical Romance started out playing New Jersey basements and VFW halls, where there any bassists from that scene that inspired you, or that you appreciated?

“Yes! We shared a rehearsal space with this band called Pencey Prep – that was [MCR guitarist] Frank Iero’s original band. John McGuire was their bassist, and he let me borrow his equipment all the time. He taught me fundamentals, and gave me pointers – he taught me a whole heck of a lot.

“I always respected Tim Payne from Thursday, I loved his attack and stage presence. And when I’d watch Gabe Saporta from Midtown, I thought 'This dude is the coolest guy in the room.' He’s got this calm, cool, and collected [presence] that you can’t fake or learn. And then Eben D’amico from Saves the Day – brilliant!

“I would try to learn Saves the Day basslines. They were pretty complex [compared to] what most bands were doing in that scene. Most bands in the post-hardcore scene had simplistic basslines, but Saves the Day did not.

“There’s also Ray Toro, the guitar player of My Chemical Romance. Not only is he truly gifted at guitar, but he’s truly gifted at bass and drums – Ray can do everything. He was instrumental, early on, with showing me the ropes. Ray gave me lessons when I was a novice. I can’t thank him enough for that.”

What kind of pointers was he giving you?

“He showed me proper fretting, or [how to maintain] a steady attack. I got a really great compliment from our front-of-house guy, Jay Rigby. He told me that I’m one of the very few bass players that he doesn’t have to go in and tweak the volume [for]. 'You’re steady, throughout.' I think that’s something that Ray Toro instilled in me: the consistency of attack.

“It’s funny thinking about it, but I was such a novice going into My Chemical Romance that I would bring myself into an anxiety-ridden state of, 'Oh my god, we have a show tonight; I have to start practicing right now.' I would be practicing four to five hours before we played – I’d play the set [in the green room], and then I’d play it again. Other bands would be like, 'What are you doing?' I was so neurotic at that point, because there were so many people around me that were beyond gifted.

“I got pushed into the deep end; you’ve got no choice but to figure it out. Ray and Frank are so gifted that I had to keep up. I didn’t want to ever do the music a disservice.

“That brings me back to the simplicity of the early My Chem basslines. The first album [2002’s I Brought You Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] was me learning the bass, and somehow [producer] John Naclerio recorded me and said, 'You did a great job,' which I did not expect.

“I thought I was going to go in there and they were going to have to do some studio magic, or someone would come in and play [my] part. I thought of the worst-case scenario, but I went in and did it. I played the bass seriously [enough] by that point.”

What are you generally looking for in a My Chemical Romance bassline?

“What makes it for me is if I do a fill, I’ll only do it once. If you listen to [the band's 2022 comeback single] The Foundations of Decay, any fill on there I only do one time. What’s interesting about The Foundations of Decay is that it’s very loose and run-and-gun. We went in and punched things in for timing, which everyone in the world does, but the meat of that is first-or-second take. Which brings me to someone else who was very instrumental to my bass playing: Doug McKean.

“He’s no longer with us, unfortunately, but he was our engineer from The Black Parade [until his passing in 2022]. He was always a huge cheerleader for me – he instilled confidence in me. He was always good at getting a killer performance out of me.”

What are some of the biggest My Chemical Romance bass moments for you?

“I’ll say that fill in on Foundations. No-one saw that coming.”

There’s a YouTube video out there of someone playing their favorite Mikey Way basslines, some while using your signature Squier Mustang, but one standout in particular is The Black Parade’s The Sharpest Lives.

“What’s funny is Sharpest Lives has a bass solo, and I was terrified of it. I had performance anxiety [through] the 12 years before we broke up – I don’t have it anymore. Somehow when the band got back together, a switch in my brain [got] flipped. [But] while My Chem was active, I was borderline terrified a lot of the time.

“I’m playing with people far above my skill level, I’m playing [on bills] with bands where their bass players are way better than me, [and] our shows were getting massive. We were playing arenas! So not only are you learning the bass, but you’re learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night. It made me tweak a little, but I think it shaped me into what I became.

“That solo gave me anxiety. It was when we were playing the biggest venues of our career, and it would break for the solo [Way starts singing his ascending bass lick]. I practiced it relentlessly, then it [became] second nature. Later on, it [became my favorite part of the show.”

You’re already playing the Jazz signature in your live show, yeah?

“It’s what I use for the live show. Basically, Fender built [it] for the reunion, and then we made a couple tweaks for when we release it.”

Was there a learning curve at all towards transferring My Chemical Romance songs you’d written on a Mustang onto the Jazz?

“There was Planetary (GO!), a song off Danger Days. I’d guess you’d say the whole thing is a disco beat. It’s dance-y – [Mikey starts singing an octave-popping bassline], I do that for the entirety of the song. I was very happy that I only had to do that on a Mustang, initially [because of the shorter scale]. But going back to what I said, [after] I took a little break, [I] went back to a Jazz Bass.

“I missed the room, or the way my hand went up and down the neck. I wanted to go back to that, so I jumped back in and felt right at home again.”

How many Jazzes are you bringing on the road?

“I bring two basses out, [but] I stopped even switching [during the set]. This is a testament to Fender craftsmanship – that thing stays in tune. It’s got the four-saddle bridge, and it stays in tune so well. I’m a little neurotic so I’ll tune every few songs, but if I went five to six songs you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

What does it mean to you to now have a fully-formed Fender signature model – as opposed to the Squier – and with the body shape you began your career with?

“It’s really a dream come true. It’s funny, in 2002-3 we started touring across the country. I had a Mexican Jazz Bass, but [the band] were like, 'You have to use something with better electronics; better wood. Step it up!' So, I went into the Guitar Center on Route 46 in New Jersey, and at the time Fender had released a special Guitar Center edition that was silver-flake.

“It always bugged me that the pickguard was white – it threw me off, aesthetically, and I was like, 'I’m going to change that pickguard one day.' So, I got that, and I was using that for a while.

“We were out with [Boston emo quartet] Piebald – it was one of our first cross-country tours ever – and one night someone forgot to close the trailer door. We’re driving on the highway, and half the contents spilled out – unfortunately, my bass was a casualty of that.

“But Frank Iero, and his heart of gold, jumped out on the highway in the middle of the night and tried to recover [the bass]. He was like, 'Maybe we can fix it!' I’ll never forget him doing that. He got a chunk of it – it’s in one of our storage units.”

For more information on the Limited Edition Mikey Way Jazz Bass, head to Fender.com.

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