* WOODSIE !

rules : repost, don’t reblog.

LONELY BOY by andrew gold.

i. he landed as an only son / his mother and father said what a lovely boy / we'll teach him what we learned / ah yes just what we learned / we'll dress him up warmly and / we'll send him to school / it'll teach him how to fight / to be nobody's fool

ii. he left home on a winter day 1969 / and he hoped to find all the love / he had lost in that earlier time

THE LOAD OUT by jackson browne.

i. now the seats are all empty / let the roadies take the stage / pack it up and tear it down / they're the first to come and the last to leave / working for that minimum wage / they'll set it up in another town

HOW MANY FRIENDS by the who.

i. he likes the clothes i wear / he says he likes a man who's dressed in season / but no-one else ever stares, he's being so kind / what's the reason?

ii. how many friends have i really got? / that love me, that want me, that'll take me as i am? it's all like a dream you know / when you're still up early in the morning

I AM A ROCK by simon & garfunkel.

i. i have my books / and my poetry to protect me / i am shielded in my armor /  hiding in my room, safe within my womb / i touch no one and no one touches me / i am a rock / i am an island

NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN by the moody blues.

i. gazing at people, some hand in hand / just what i'm going through they can't understand / some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend / just what you want to be, you will be in the end

TAGGED BY: @viollens​ 👁 

the palace is alive tonight, music floods the halls and the bass thunders beneath their feet as though it is the heart of the place. perry would argue, however, that tonight the pulse emanates from up on this floor – in this rosy room where blushing walls ensure privacy. from the center of wispy red clouds, gleams a glazed gaze that’s been settled on woods: languidly following each cupid’s-bow puff. after each pass, perry’s lips touch the trace of his and he inhales their memory deep inside him. when woods leans into his orbit, perry exhales tendrils of smoke from the corner of his mouth – that are sent dancing up toward the cathedral ceilings as if a silent prayer. a slow grin begins to blossom as he holds the joint between bejeweled thumb and forefinger, takes the liberty of placing it between those botticellian lips of his. his warm knuckles feather the corner of his mouth. his head spins from it, every fiber dizzy, the shutter slow.

    “mm, perhaps we’ll – carve our initials into the trunk of a tree.” his brows appear to jump rope as he drags lazy fingertips down the length of his tie, adding just the slightest pressure into his barrel chest.

      currents  of  electricity  tingle  under  the  surface  of  his  skin  as  perry  becomes  the  only  form  within  the  window  of  his  lidded  eyes,  so  close  he’s  certain  the  gap  between  them  is  cooking  with  body  heat.  the  offered  joint  now  pinched  between  his  lips,  he  inhales  sharply  just  as  perry’s  touch  graces  him,  the  simmer  of  his  facial  nerves  burning  alongside  the  crisp  smoulder  of  red  embers  rising  up  the  rolled  paper.  he  surveys  the  path  of  perry’s  hand,  those  opulent  rings  glinting  in  grey  eyes.  smoke  escapes  timidly  from  under  his  nose,  billowing  when  he  answers  the  fantasy;  the  image  of  etched  treebark  sings  sadly  in  his  head  as  he  lowers  the  joint  down  from  his  lips.  time  is  slow  and  they’re  floating.  ❛❛  i  wish  it  could  be  like  that...  ordinary.  ❜❜    when  perry’s  delicate  touch  passes  from  the  trail  of  woods’  aegean  tie  to  the  plane  of  his  chest,  he  exhales  deeper  and  melts,  conscious  of  every  fingerprint  through  the  fabric  of  his  pinstripe  button  down.  

                      the  trait  of  physical  restraint  that  was  once  sewn  to  woods’  character  has  frayed  lightly  under  the  chafing  of  growing  sexual  confidence  -  the  new  year’s  kiss  can  still  be  felt  on  his  lips  (  it’s  been  nearly  a  week  now  ),  a  magic  moment  immortalised  in  the  way  he  stares  at  perry.  except  this  night  the  whites  of  his  eyes  are  tinted  with  red,  marijuana  smoke  curling  around  his  broad  bust  as  he  leans  into  perry’s  space,  the  room  dancing  around  him  in  invisible  pulses.  his  frame  is  tickled  by  the  sensitivity  wrapping  around  him  and  he  can’t  stop  the  smile  rejuvenating  his  often  stoic  face  with  a  childish  glow.  he’s  never  felt  this  high  before.  over  the  moon.    ❛❛  i  wonder  if  how  i  feel  righ’  now  is  how  fifteen  yea’  old  boys  feel  when  they  realise  th’  gerl  they  like  is  sittin’  next  to  ‘em.  ❜❜

    “i’ll tell you what. should i fail, god forbid, should i fail, drinks will be on me.” like a judge hammering a gavel, perry gives the lid a final knock-knock before scooting off the road case. landing on the gloss of the stage with a cuban-heeled thump, he splays out his hands, wiggling bejeweled fingers as if to turn himself into a human question mark with which to punctuate the implicit, ‘what do you say?’ that now dangles in the air between them.

    and it is left dangling. for, the conversation dwindles when a crew member approaches, leaving perry to observe woods in his element. it isn’t until after the roadie turns, however, that perry’s gaze wanders down his solid arms to the firm, capable hands that receive a frightfully mammoth light fixture with ease. his eyebrows waltz at the sight. it’s quite daunting, really, but his gaze persists, coasts along the sturdiness of him as he stoops to bury it into its respective case. in the thick of this trance he hears woods’ question, but with how his attention has hitched, it’s as if it plods through honey to reach him. once it does register, perry straightens his posture, head having canted a few degrees. by way of answer, he hums a thoughtful melody that cross-fades into a quip, “you’re not trying to get rid of me…” but the slow-spread of his smirk intimates that he means this only in jest. expression sobering, he says earnestly, “i thought you might like the company. it’s hardly fair that you’ve been left to do all the work.”

    there’s a hush of sincerity that follows his statement, and a foreign flutter in his chest. it spurs him to chirp, “so–!” before stepping nearer to woods and extending a hand, heavy rings winking beneath stage lights. alluding to his proposition from a few moments ago, he asks, tone once again infused with its customary playfulness and accompanied by the squint that matches, “shall we shake on it, then? hm?”

      to  anyone  observing,  it’s  a  fair  enough  deal  –  but  woods  is  transfixed  on  another  matter  of  anticipation  and  suppressed  hope.  a  secret  part  of  him  feels  giddy  and  light  at  the  promise  he’ll  be  out  that  night  with  perry,  drinks  secured,  regardless  of  the  winner.  pleased  with  the  proposition,  his  brow  lifts  agreeably  and  he  pouts  his  lower  lip  while  he  feigns  an  internal  debate  ( it’s  here  that  he  recognises  that  feeling  one  gets  that  they’re  being  watched;  he  confirms  it’s  perry  with  a  careful  glance  that  he  plays  off  as  rubbing  a  bead  of  sweat  from  his  cheek  with  his  shoulder  –  a  blithe  voice  says:  is  he  checking  me  out  ? )  a  light  nod  follows  his  brief  reverie;  the  deal  is  on.

      ❛❛  well.  you  guessed  correctly.  i  do  like  the  company.  ❜❜  a  beat,  a  sideways  glance,  the  ever  so  cautious  head-to-toe  sweep  with  a  hooded  gaze;  slightly  flirtatious ?  perhaps;  it  was  instinctual  and  it  never  happened  with  women  –  odd.  ❛❛  jus’  don’  distract  me.  ❜❜  but  all  he  has  to  do  is  let  his  suddenly  conscious  eyes  trail  away  to  the  bystanders,  the  passing  crew  members,  and  he  begins  rigorously  training  his  attention  on  the  next  wires  to  coil  around  palm  to  elbow  in  a  steady  rhythm.  

      throughout  woods’  construction  (of  which  there  has  been  a  lot  of  lately  going  behind  the  scenes)  i’ve  been  relating  his  character  foundation  much  to  that  of  a  loyal  wolf  serving  his  pack,  which  would  in  this  case  be  the  band.  in  simple  terms,  he’s  second  in  command  to  scott  and  also  obligated  to  make  decisions  that  favour  the  musicians  he  works  for.  he  doesn’t  classify  going  and  fetching  snacks  from  gas  stations  on  tours  for  everyone  as  a  “nuisance”  –  it  makes  scott’s  life  easier  to  operate  from  above  if  woods  is  doing  the  small  handiwork  that  makes  things  run  a  little  smoother.

      along  with  serving  them,  he  loyally  defends  them.  again,  he  feels  it  is  his  duty  to  become  aggressive  if  the  time  calls  for  it.  this  sort  of  brash  attitude  (the  baring  of  his  teeth)  would  be  necessary  in  handling  difficult  situations  that  involve  rude  fans  or  irresponsible  crew  members  –  if  something  needs  to  get  done,  he’s  not  afraid  to  bark  the  captain’s  orders.  you  disobey  scott,  you  disrespect  woods.

      but  also  like  a  wolf,  he  has  his  playful  side  and  doesn’t  mind  “babysitting”.  the  band  members  are  like  his  brothers,  and  while  he’s  not  as  hawk-eyed  as  his  superior,  he  seems  to  be  good  at  keeping  people  occupied  with  his  presence  so  they’re  not  thinking  of  sneaking  off  as  often  (ahem,  martin).  he  jests  in  short  witty  phrases  from  time  to  time,  he  gives  boyish  headlocks  and  hair  ruffles,  he  pleases  an  attentive  crowd  with  plenty  of  stories.  

@sirwoods : jackson browne’s ‘the load out’ / ‘stay’ - inspired.

    “i could hear the sound of slamming doors and folding chairs,” perry says as he perches on the edge of the road case. it’s hardly an explanation, for why he’s floated away from the coterie backstage, but lately the buzz he feels in woods’ presence puts that of their party favors to shame. as he assesses the case and ponders what’s in it, perry taps out a staccato rhythm over its lid. “doesn’t look terribly heavy. not to mention, i’ve handled quite a bit of studio equipment in my day.” with the bounce of his brows, he cants his head, and regards the roadie with a squinty-eyed smirk, “what do you think?”

      𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖  festivities  is  the  least  of  woods’  worries  –  the  two  tech  geeks  scott  temporarily  hired  have  split  from  the  scene,  leaving  the  gruntwork  to  him.  typical.  he’s  grateful  for  the  venue’s  crew,  momentarily  halting  from  wheeling  heavy  cases  down  the  stage  ramp  to  direct  the  black  shirt  entourage;  he  cushions  his  demands  with  plenty  of  ‘thank  you’s  and  ‘that’s  alright’s  –  it’s  been  a  long  night  for  all  of  them.  

      he’s  greeted  with  a  familiar,  lighthearted  sight  as  he  returns  to  the  stage  to  acquire  another  hefty  gear  box,  prompting  a  compulsive  smile  he  visibly  stifles  by  stooping  and  gathering  up  a  coil  of  wires.  grey  eyes  linger  on  perry  when  he  rises  up  again,  starting  at  his  expensive  shoes  and  idly  travelling  up  to  the  face  that  always  seems  to  be  saying  something  words  can’t  offer.  ❛❛  well,  we  need  all  the  help  we  can  get,  ❜❜  he  answers  honestly,  sedately.  there’s  the  beginning  of  a  shy  grin  kinking  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  he’ll  humour  him,  and  maybe  he’s  a  bit  curious  to  see  just  how  much  muscle’s  been  hiding  under  the  patterned  shirts  and  handsewn  jackets.  ❛❛  if  you  succeed  in  gettin’  it  back  t’  the  bus,  i’ll  buy  you  a  drink  at  a  pub  ov  your  choice.  jus’  don’  break  anyfin’.  ❜❜