#everyone follow punky!!!!

[wimsiecal]

MY ASK BLOG GOT DUBBED AGAIN EVERYONE MUST WATCH!!!!

[leathfaic]

Ghost is a man who never needed to do much to draw attention when he goes clubbing. His impressive frame ensures he gets plenty of attention. That natural air of authority honed over years as a commanding officer ensuring he has his space if he wants it, unwanted approaches stopped before they even begin.

Still lots of eyes stick to him casually leaning against the bar. Always had an easy pick of those brave enough to approach him. Even before the scars in his face he attracted a certain type, the twinks that wanted to be thrown around, bears wanting to play with someone in their own weight class they weren't sure they could out-wrestle and everyone in between who just likes tall, strong blondes. Ever since the scars that has only intensified, might be that he loses out on some vain types, but the daredevils flock to him even more now.

So really he can't complain. He's not the biggest fan of the places, avoids scrungy punky ones altogether for very personal reasons, but they serve their purpose. Finding a quick lay mostly. Sometimes just enjoying a space where he's not the only gay man for miles and miles.

When he starts to go clubs with Soap though, it becomes a very different experience.

First of all he's not looking to take anyone home or to a convenient dark corner.

No, he's here because Johnny likes dancing and what Johnny wants he usually gets. Simon could never deny him anything.

So there is no one Ghost is looking at but Soap. And bloody fucking hell it is worth looking.

Johnny's easy confidence bleeds off of him and mixed with his natural charm he commands the entire rooms attention. His body helps, sure, sculpted muscles barely hidden by a mesh shirt and jeans so tight there's nothing left to the imagination, but there's plenty of good looking men around.

None of them carry themselves like Soap does though.

He watches as Soap enters the dance floor, seeming to melt into the beat. Dancing as effortlessly as he cleans an entire building of hostiles. A fucking vision in strobing lights as he let's the rhythm dictate his movements. Wide fucking smile painted on his face.

People flock to him, wind themselves around him in more or less proficient dance moves, probably hoping to leave an impression over the gaggle of obvious suitors.

Soap toys with them, dancing with those he finds entertaining, neatly sidestepping those he doesn't. Bathing in the attention of wandering hands and lips.

Ghost wonders if they can feel how dangerous of a man he really is. If they can smell the slight hint of sulfur from the demolitions workshop he's been crammed in all day. If they can see the edge in his eyes, that predatory glint of a man trained to kill walking through a crowd of unaware civilians.

Most probably can't.

Some who can probably find it exciting.

In the end none of it matters anyways.

Because it is Ghost's gaze that Johnny seeks when another man winds around him, littering his neck with kisses. And it's on Ghost's wordless command that he abandons the crowd of hopefuls. Meandering over to him, well aware of all the looks following him as he sprawls himself in Simon's lap unabashedly.

It's a unique rush of power having the man they all want at his beck and call. To take a sip of whisky and shamelessly kiss it into his mouth. Making sure just a little spills over painting a golden line for him to lick up.

Keeping his eyes on the crowd and bathing in their envy, their hunger and their shock.

He indulges for a few minutes, let's Soap shower him in affection while keeping him and the room in check with his dominance over the situation.

It's a game they both know Ghost will lose down the line, will drag Soap out of the club like his life depends on it. Maybe throw him over his shoulder just to make a point.

But not yet. Now he makes sure Soap drinks some water and sends him off again with a well aimed slap to his arse.

And Johnny smiles bright and wide. Drifting into the crowd, the crowd that is apprehensive at first but before long they can't help themselves. There's some wary glances shot at Simon, but his ongoing indifference seems to embolden them. Crowding Soap like moths would a light.

And Ghost finds himself suddenly enjoying clubs a whole lot more. Revelling in Soap's obvious bliss and the knowledge that the man who drives the whole dance floor senseless will follow him in the blink of an eye.

Let them get their hopes up, he's got nothing to fear, to be jealous over because he knows the only thing that matters:

Soap commands the whole room without even trying, but Ghost is the only one who commands his attention.

[hernakedmuse]

Punk!Bimbo Reader Headcanons Part I

She moved to Hawkins from Queens in her Freshman year

When she arrived everyone was mean to her, she showed up with chopped off cropped hair styled a little Betty Boop, a Sex Pistols t-shirt that had her thrown in the principal's office, and maroon doc martens all beat up.

Girls would hit her in the locker room and call her derogatory names and guys would call her a slut especially because of her well endowed breasts and punk appearance.

One day, Horror!Bimbo is in the girl's bathroom skipping class to have a smoke, she's fixing her lipstick when she smells smoke, sees the bathroom window open and hears crying.

She opens the stall of the handicapped one to see Punk!Bimbo sitting on the toilet, just sitting, with headphones on, tears messing up her mascara, clutching a cigarette with chipped red nails in a cute, ripped Iggy Pop shirt, a small jeans shorts, ripped fishnet stockings, and docs, oversized army jacket around her elbows and a cool homemeade nose piercing.

She liked this girl and eyed her cadillac red lipstick, she wants it. "You're crying, is the song very sad?"

Punk!Bimbo was ready to cuss out and fight the bitch who interrupted her when she saw it was the Whore of Hawkins High, that was what they called her but Punk!Bimbo thought it was misogynist and ridiculous, and who gave a fuck what anyone did with their own life, God forbid! Oh how she hates the midwest.

The girl had a vacant yet kind look in her eye and looked unbothered and intrigued, so Punky answered. "No, it's angry, it's um--Black Flag, Rise Above by Black Flag."

Horror!Bimbo took out her own cigarette, wrapping her black cherry lips around her own and lit up with her lavender colored lighter. To Punky she looked like a stripper rendition of a corpse bride and she LOVED it, who was she? Truly? "Can I listen? You can listen to my tape, it's uh- *giggles* Nina Hagen--"

"I love Nina Hagen!" Punky exclaimed interrupting the gore whore.

Horror!Bimbo sat on Punky's lap with ease and took her head phones while giving hers to Punky. "They steal my panties and tell everyone I give blow jobs for 50 cents-- one time the principal tried to look up my skirt, I asked him why he was looking up there and I got suspended and a rumor of me fucking him went around, now his wife gives me dirty looks at my dad's grocery store." Her wispy, ghost-like voice explained which horrified Punky, how could anyone treat someone like that? Especially someone so sweet. "They call me a slut and a dyke, I don't care about that though those aren't insults to me, but it's the hitting you know? They like to fuck with me and- I'm so tired, I'm not sad I'm tired, fucking tired and something's gotta change."

Horror!Bimbo blew a smoke ring. "So hit back, bash them in the head for once, you're gonna get in trouble anyway. Bash their brains in watch the blood run." She giggled like a maniac.

Punky laughed. "You're crazy."

"I know!" She moaned "Please try and tell the mental hospitals I've been applying at that!'

They've been best friends ever since.

Punky decided to follow in Moth's footsteps and played up the bimbo look. Cut her hair in a blunt, China bob, dressing revealing like California's Angelyne and spin some Debbie Harry into her look which was absolutely lethal with her va va voom body, her overdeveloped hips and tits, makeup always vampy, clothing rockabilly.

She really started fighting back when her mom's boyfriend tried to molest her in her sleep one night, she put a cigarette out in his eye. Her mom kicked her out, this was junior year, and Horror!Bimbo took her in for a month until her mom begged her back and told her she was right that Rodney was no good.

She blamed Punky though for looking so easy, Punky bit back her feminist rant and let bygones be bygones with her mother but when school came, when Carol tried to grab her by the hair because her boyfriend wanted her to blow him, she took Carol by the hair and slammed her head against the locker and pushed her to the ground and kicked her in the stomach with her thrift store, leopard print stilettos, she beat the ever living shit out of Carol as she let out bloodcurdling screams in the hall, she never forgot when Carol tried to set her up to get gangraped at a party and never forgot when Steve Harrington saved her that night.

Carol had to be taken to the hospital, she had two broken ribs, one missing tooth, a broken nose, broken arm, and a concussion from Punky's rage alone.

Nobody messed with her again.

She started an apprenticeship at the only beauty parlor in town and sings lead for a punk band started by community college students from the next town over, they call the band Hellcat, which was a nickname Punky earned.

The Beauty Parlor is a couple doors down from Family Videos

A certain big haired employee was enamored with the vixen in the tight pin up clothing and the vampy bob who swayed her hips down the street to her job. He'd bring her food sometimes from Benny's, give her his employee discount when she came in for videos, sometimes just pay for it himself.

"Let me know when you wanna book an appointment with me Stevie" She'd tell him with a smirk on her cadillac red lips, a wink, and a saucy little hip sway. She was like Elizabeth Taylor, Vikki Dugan, and Elvira wrapped in one, she was a centerfold come to life, he'd do anything for her, let her do anything to him.

If only she knew after that terrible night at the party, he would follow her home every night after that to make sure she got home safe.

Her silent protector.

[meddwlyngymraeg]

I'd love to hear some more happy sounding Welsh songs! can be any genre. also any songs about the sea! diolch!!

Shwmae! Amazingly, you are the literal target audience for Ynys' first album ('Ynys', 2022). Dylan Hughes is from Aberystwyth and spent many years in Cardiff and found himself longing for the seaside he grew up in, and when he finally started writing music as Ynys (he used to be in a cool indie psychedelic band called Race Horses too, if that's your thing), he put together a whole album only to realise how much of it is about the sea. I mean, his band is literally called Ynys (Island)!

Also, he has that wonderful, lush psychedelic pop sound, which I think sounds pretty happy musically, though there are definitely some themes of longing, being lost, culture and language, all that good stuff thrown in too. It's complex, but I still feel it's quite a happy listen!

So some songs from the album I'd recommend - Môr Du (Black Sea), Welcome to the Island (now technically this is an instrumental, don't know where that sits!), There's Nothing The Sea Doesn't Know.

My personal favourite off the album is Caneuon (‘Songs’, references the Gorky's Zygotic Mynci song 'Gegin Nos'—more on them in a sec—and also a pretty happy/reminiscing/wistful song), but the whole album is quite good, and their recent second album Dosbarth Nos also has some lovely songs that lift my mood at least— Aros Amdanat Ti, Gyda Ni, Dosbarth Nos. Also the sea references continue!

I'm linking their Bandcamp page rather than a Spotify because Dylan makes sure to include lyrics and translations on there (and in physical liner notes), if you or anyone else reading this was interested in going into the lyrics! (Also I usually feel like I should give people the option to directly support musicians if they feel inclined, where Spotify pays not even cents for most music.) But these two albums are on streaming if you'd like too!

I've also gotta recommend some Gorky's! Their 1997 album's called Barafundle, named after Barafundle Beach, and while I don't think any of the songs are directly about the sea itself (except like The Barafundle Bumbler, which uh. Your mileage may vary. It’s about a voyeur bloke that sits by the seaside on said beach), but there's Diamond Dew which is such a lovely tune, and while not about the sea, Patio Song (i.e. everyone's favourite Gorky's song) has that lovely outro of 'it is raining, so take my hand, the winter's so long, it takes so much of the earth'. ☔️🌧🌈 Happy music, some of Gorky's work! (Personal fave off the album: Starmoonsun <3)

(Also this song's in English but since we're talking about Gorky's I can't not recommend Spanish Dance Troupe. Gorgeous song.)

There's also the super cool Adwaith, who wrote the song Lan Y Môr. This song is actually a lot older than the album it ended up on, 2022's Welsh Music Prize winning Bato Mato, Adwaith are still the only musicians to win the Prize twice. They wrote the song and released it as a single back in early 2020 and it was following a run of really cool punky Cymraeg singles. Love Adwaith, they're quite cool.

Edit: HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN. The queen of the beaches. Gwenno herself. I guess I hadn’t included her because this isn’t technically a Welsh language album (save for one song, N.Y.C.A.W. (Nid Yw Cymru Ar Werth)). Gwenno is half-Welsh, half-Cornish, and this album was basically written down at St. Ives. This does sound like it, and I love this song Anima!

Hope you like these! People can totally feel free to add on in the notes if I’ve missed something!

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags - Part 4: Long Cool Woman In a Black Dress

AN: I won my battle with writer's block! (Thank you, @tinytotontheoversizedpony!)

It's a little self-fulling to use this song as a fic title, but hey, it fits the vibe.

I think you're going to like this one 👀💛

______________________________________________________________

❗️18+, strong language, alcohol mentions, sexual themes, godmother reader/original female character, Original child character.

#4.7K Words

Part 3 | Masterlist | Part 5

Fridays seemed to be the worst day of the week. That was your current mood as you smoothed down the corners of your dress and straightened your leather jacket, making your way up the steps of the Child Protective Services building. 

They told you they wanted to meet to review some information, whatever the hell that meant. With the paperwork, or there was a stipulation in Ridley’s Will or worse, someone wanted to take her away from you. The nerves in the pit of your stomach were on fire with the idea something was wrong.  

And you received the request on one of the few days you could actually pick Sadie up from school. The minute you hung up your phone and pressed the edge of it to your forehead, you thumped lightly against your skin, thinking it would will away the uneasiness settling in your stomach. 

“Ah, pity, I was hoping Bradley was picking Sadie up today.” 

‘Oh, please tell me you didn’t, Bradley, ’ you thought upon hearing that voice. Forcing a smile, which you were sure looked more like a grimace, you turned to face what you believed to be the Regina George of all elementary school moms. 

“Hello, Courtney.” 

Courtney Slack, the one mom in the school who made it her business to know everyone’s business. A blonde bombshell always dressed to the nines, who always had a comment, a thing or a statement to say about everyone and everything thing. The leader of the PTA association and the mom of the girl who bullied Sadie on her first day of school. 

You’d be having words with Bradley the next time you saw him. 

“Still single, I see?” she snarked. “Shame Sadie doesn’t have a strong father figure to look up to.” 

Oh, you’d already be thrashing her into the pavement if you were a violent person. You were about to make a remark about Sadie’s numerous Uncles who literally risked their lives to make sure someone like her could live out her days being a bitch, before someone came up beside you. 

“Still sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Courtney?” Alyssa suddenly pipped up next to you. Alyssa, a single mother of a boy named Will around Sadie’s age, was one of the first people to introduce herself when Sadie first arrived at the school. Sadie instantly took a liking to Will, and you liked Alyssa the second you met her. 

She was uncaring of what people thought of her, pulling up in punky Doc Martins and patched-up jean jackets to student-teacher conferences and school events. She saved you from what you both liked to call Courtney’s group, the “Vanderpump Vulture Moms,” on your first school bake sale, Bob and Nat helping you stay up late one night to frost the hell out of a few dozen cupcakes. 

“Can’t I take an interest in who my children go to school with?” 

“Well, it looks like you need to go collect your spawn,” She coughed, “I mean, child from the playground. I believe he’s interested in shoving a stone up a kid’s nose.” 

Failing miserably to hold in your snickers at the look on Courtney’s face, you watched as she turned frantically to find her son before calling his name and running off in hysterics. Alyssa gave in first, barely hanging on to her resolve and toppling over in laughter. You couldn’t help but join her, lulling your nerves for a moment with being able to laugh. 

After a few seconds, she touched your shoulder, “I heard your phone call. I’m sure it’s nothing, maybe a follow-up to ensure everything is okay.” 

You shook your head, looking at the kids exiting the recess doors. 

“I just got her. It could be anything from a check-in to a notice of whatever they want to do with her. Rarely do they care about the kids.” 

You spied Sadie’s lime green backpack amongst the crowd. Will was not far behind as they searched for the pair of you. They liked to race each other out the door to see who could get to you first. When she did reach you, she almost always knocked you flat onto the pavement, hugging you. You eagerly returned her hug but frowned when she kept burying her head into your stomach when you went to pull back.

“What’s wrong, Bug?” 

“We have a surprise project due on Monday,” Will sighed next to you. Sadie pulled back, nodding at him, clearly upset at the thought she might have to do homework over a weekend. 

“We’re going to miss our last hike, Aunt Liz,” She pouted. 

This weekend was your last chance for a hike until the Spring. While Miramar didn’t really see snow, the weather had started turning slightly cooler. Soon enough, the bugs wouldn’t be out for Sadie to find. With the unexpected visit to CPS, she would no doubt have to miss it. 

“And my hockey game,” Will echoed, dropping his head with a frown.  

Alyssa ruffled Will’s hair, smiling down at Sadie. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow after school? You can set up at the dining table and do your project with pizza.” 

You gave Alyssa a grateful look, mouthing ‘Thank you’ as Sadie and Will excitedly started planning how they would tackle their assignment so they could do their respective activities. 

Alyssa shrugged, waving her hand. “Go figure out what they want, and don’t worry about her. We’ll ensure that assignment gets done for your hike and Will’s Hockey Game.”

So, while Sadie worked over at Will and Alyssa’s to finish her project, you tried to calm your nerves as you waited at the reception desk to check in for the appointment. 

They made you wait for what you thought was hours, but it couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes. You did everything from bouncing your leg to circling your thumbs to scrolling aimlessly on your phone until they finally called your name.

You were ushered into a stuffy office room, papers hazardously placed in manila file folders strung across the room. An older woman, Mrs. Kirkland, from her nameplate, had several precariously stacked on top of one another on her desk. She reminded you of your old high school librarian, peering at you over the top rim of her glasses when you coughed under your breath to get her attention. 

“Ms. Beck,” she gestured to the fold-out chair in front of her. You quickly removed your jacket, hooking it on the back of the chair before sitting down.  

She smiled at you before glancing at her laptop, asking, “How’s Sadie doing?” 

“Better. She’s adjusting well to her new school and seems to love science.” 

“That’s wonderful,” She didn’t bother looking up as she spoke, typing something away at her computer. You watched her type, suddenly meeting her eyes as she peered up at you, looking up and down your body before inquiring, “And yourself?” 

“It’s been hard without my sister, but my friends have supported me.” 

“Hmm,” she replied. “No man in your life?” 

Ugh, why did every older woman you meet like to comment on the fact that you were still single? 

“Just the two of us, I’m afraid,” you smiled politely. “What is it you wanted to speak about?” 

“Right,” she said, reaching down into her file cabinet to pull out a small folder. “A request was made to look into Sadie’s file.” 

The ball forming in your throat for the past twenty-four hours dropped into your stomach. “What does that mean?” 

“Well, our review process covers everything from the legitimacy of her birth mother’s Will to the handover of her guardianship. We have no complaints against you as her guardian, and we have on record you cared for Sadie greatly while you lived with your sister.” 

You swallowed hard. “Yes, that’s correct.” 

“So, this is just to ensure everything is in order and nothing was missed. Generally, the process takes a few weeks, but upon looking at this, I suspect our auditors won’t find anything out of place.” 

“Why would someone request this? Is it something internal you guys do?” 

Ms. Kirkland shuffled a few papers in her hand, reading what was on the page before replying, “I’m afraid this was external. Your sister was very thorough with her paperwork, so we did not need to do an internal review.” 

Everything about this was odd. You had no family left. What was the point of making sure her paperwork was in order? Ridley always wanted Sadie with you and nobody at the time, and after her death, wanted to challenge it. 

“I’m assuming you cannot tell me who requested you look into her file?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say who, only that the request came in two weeks ago.” 

Ridley’s townhouse sold two weeks ago, you thought. This was screaming more was going on than just a simple review. 

“As we have no more concerns, you are free to go. We just needed to inform you of the request.” 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you dug your nails into your legs instead, reaching to grab your bag off the floor. “And you couldn’t have explained this over a phone call?” 

“I’m afraid it’s our policy to do these things in person to avoid miscommunication.” 

You sighed, standing up and grabbing your jacket from the back of your chair. “Can you let me know when this is resolved?” 

“Of course.” 

You resisted the urge to slam the door as you exited the office and the building. While you knew deep down they wouldn’t find anything wrong with the paperwork or Ridley’s Will, you were still worried about who exactly put in the request.

Even with the anxiety racing through your veins as you raced back down the front steps to your car, eager to escape the miserable place, you couldn’t help but grumble out, “Policy, my ass.”

_______

Seeing you at the Hard Deck outside of work, unless you were with one of the Daggers, was unusual. But your nerves were on fire, you were dying for a drink, and you desperately wanted to confide in Penny. 

It wasn’t as busy as it should have been for a Friday after four, but the music playing from the Jukebox did wonders for the atmosphere.  You spied Jake and Coyote at the back by the dartboard in their service khakis as soon as you walked in, Coyote attempting to throw a few darts while Jake was off to the side chatting with a brunette in just too tight of a light blue dress.

You couldn’t fault her for the blush staining her cheeks as she peered up at him. Jake used his looks to his advantage to get what he wanted. Arms flexed, cocky smirk, getting up and close into her personal space. She was buying it, given how close she angled herself toward him. 

Women really did fall into the palm of his hand, you thought.  

She embodied everything you figured you weren’t. The type to have it all figured out, not juggling school events, sports games, and pick-up times. She didn’t have long nights closing at the bar or trying to find someone to watch Sadie every week. Not that you would trade it for anything in the world. 

She was the type you’d imagine someone like Jake would finally end up with. Even if he was chatting her up to be the next name on his bedpost, you struggled to force out the idea that they looked good standing next to each other. Hot people went out with hot people, right?

You didn’t know whether you wanted to roll your eyes or pay attention to the ache in your chest. 

Penny smiled as you sat down but frowned upon seeing your face. 

“Can I get a glass of Whiskey, Penny? Neat, please.” 

She eyed you concerned, reaching down to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass. “You're not one to pop by for a drink?” 

“Somebody requested Sadie’s file to be looked into at CPS.” You threaded your fingers through your hair, locking them behind your head as you rest your elbows on the bar. 

Penny widened her eyes, placing the glass down in front of you. “Please tell me she’s staying with you?” 

You looked up and nodded. “I’m fine. They needed to notify me it happened.” 

“Can they tell you who?” 

“Nope,” you replied curtly before reaching for the glass and bringing it to your lips. The liquid burned, and you resisted the urge to cough. 

“I bet it's the school. Or one of the parents at the school.” 

Courtney’s face briefly popped into your head at Penny’s words, but you quickly shot it down. While she might be horrible, she wasn’t capable or invested in causing trouble. You shrugged. 

“Or Sadie’s bio Dad?” 

You frowned. Ridley always admitted getting involved with Tyler was a terrible idea, save for gifting her Sadie. He was, for all pretense, a dick. You had yet to meet someone who was his equal. From the stories you heard about how he was before they became a permanent team, not even Jake could top this guy’s attitude on a bad day. Tyler was pure malice. 

He wanted nothing to do with Sadie the moment Ridley found out. She had ensured you were listed as Sadie’s guardian the moment she was born, Tyler and his family written out of any responsibility or entitlements. You wouldn’t be surprised to learn if they tried to buy her off to save Tyler’s chances of making a career in Football, not that he really had any. 

“He wanted nothing to do with her when Ridley was pregnant, and I doubt Cathy and Dean want to be caring grandparents this late in the game.” 

They were some of the worst people in the world. You could gratefully count the number of times you had to deal with them on one hand. Sadie would never have to, not if you had your way. 

“Either way, I don’t think he’d get anywhere near Sadie if he wanted to.” 

Penny smiled fondly. “Bradley would be first in line to throw a punch.” 

You shook your head. “Don’t forget about Nat.” 

“I think Pete might try to get one in too.” 

You giggled with Penny at the thought. Mav would go to bat for Sadie in a heartbeat. 

“Lizzie!” 

You turned around on your bar stool to see Coyote waving you over, the leggy brunette gone, and Jake taking Javy’s place throwing darts. 

“Be careful with those two,” Penny said with a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Resisting the urge to frown, you simply picked up your drink while standing up, throwing over your shoulder, “You know I can take care of myself.”

________

“Yo, there’s Lizzie,” Coyote said, tapping Jake’s arm while watching you enter the Hard Deck and walk towards an empty stool. Jake turned his head in the middle of his conversation at the mention of your name, catching the side of your face as you greeted Penny.

The two of you had finished the dishes discussing your shared taste in music that night. You credited Ridley as the one who got you into 80s music - telling him the Jean Jacket had been hers, sharing how the three of you got lost coming home from a hike while she was visiting with Sadie, stumbling into that thrift store hoping for directions. He could recall you laughing when you told him she freaked out so hard in the store the owner practically gave it to her for free. 

While he’d never get the chance to, he wished he could thank Ridley for finding that Jacket. You didn’t judge him for his call-sign story as he suspected you would. Instead, you listened. You emphasized. You gave him credit for trying. And as everyone went to leave, you didn’t protest hugging him goodbye like everyone else. 

Deep down, a part of him was grateful you gave him a clean state. 

When the woman he had been talking to realized his attention had been drawn elsewhere, she scoffed and quickly returned to her friends after he didn't continue the conversation. He didn’t seem to care, wandering over to where Javy had resumed his stance.  

“What’s she doing here on her day off?” Coyote placed the darts into Jake’s hand, not removing his eyes from you. 

“She doesn’t normally come here on a day off?” Jake asked, starting to line up a shot. 

“Not unless she’s with one of us. Maybe she has a date.” 

Coyote took a swig of his beer, missing the way Jake dropped his hand and spun his head, eyes tracking the bar to see if anyone was joining you. But you were bowing your head, on the verge of pulling out your hair, staring at the top of the bar before replying to whatever Penny asked.

“What did you guys talk about that night?” 

Jake turned back to Coyote, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head while he raised his hand again. “Nothing I haven’t told you before.” 

Jake let the dart go, watching as it landed just above the center mark. “She thanked me for the flowers, for helping Sadie, and then we did the dishes.” 

“Just like that?” Javy questioned. “So you didn’t pull any of your insensitive shit around her?” 

“I wasn’t going to make her call me out twice. Not since you left me to deal with Phoneix and Rooster chewing out my ass.” He threw another dart, this one striking just above the last one. 

Coyote ignored the dig, watching him throw two more before asking, “So the flowers were..” 

“An apology, nothing more.” 

Javy eyed Jake skeptically, “And why do you suddenly care about saying sorry to someone you hardly know?” 

“Hey, I happen to like Sadie and Liz. And if the Daggers are spending Saturday nights over there, I’d like to improve my chances of being invited back.” 

Javy went to collect the darts from the board before turning around to stand in front of Jake, proceeding to square him up. 

“Be careful with her, Jake,” he said, placing the darts into his hand. “I’m not like the others, but you cannot fuck with Lizzie. She might put on a big show, but she’s more fragile than she looks. And Sadie’s a part of the equation too.” 

Jake regarded him briefly, thinking about the note Sadie gave him that he tucked into his wallet, before finally answering, “She told me she wasn’t interested in that.”

“Interested in a tumble in the sheets or being your friend?” 

“Shut up. I just want to be there for her and Sadie.” 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t mind if I called her over here to join us then?” 

“Javy!” Jake reached for Coyote’s arm, failing to stop him from lifting his hand. 

“Lizzie!” 

Jake grimaced as Coyote waved at you, quickly reaching up to throw another dart, this time half in frustration. It landed next to the metal circle encasing the center dot. 

You called out to greet them, and Jake couldn’t help but take note of how your dress lightly swayed as you maneuvered yourself between pulled-out chairs to get to them, leather jacket zipper straps swinging as you walked, and a pair of brown aviators dangling from where you had hooked them between your breasts.

He caught a glimpse of Penny’s glaring stare from behind you, and his conversation with her the week before meeting you played in his head. 

“She’s off limits, Hangman.” She had said as she thumped his beer bottle onto the bar. “You don’t go anywhere near this one, and I don’t care how many people you’ve helped throw out of this bar. I’ll never welcome you back, so help me. Not her.” 

The second it appeared you would look back up, he turned to throw another dart, this time Coyote holding up his hand to block his view. You watched Jake land the dart directly in the middle, slightly impressed. 

“So, this is your party trick?” you announced with a grin.

Coyote wolf-whistled as he approached you, holding out his hand to spin you in a circle, your dress swirling as you laughed. “You clean up nice, Lizzie. You meeting some special?”

Jake’s hand wobbled as he threw another dart, this time hitting the outer rim. 

“What? Oh no, I had a meeting with CPS.” 

Jake’s ears picked up at the statement, dropping his hand heavily to face you. “Is she okay? Are they threatening to take her away from you?” 

You shook your head, warmth spreading in your chest at his concern.  “It was harmless. They just wanted to pass along some information.” 

Jake turned to Coyote as you suddenly stepped towards the dartboard, seemingly interested in his score and leaving no room to continue the conversation.  Coyote looked at you with concern before glancing back at Jake, shaking his head. 

“You know how to throw?” Jake asked, not taking his eyes off Javy and tilting his head toward Penny. Javy nodded, quickly approaching the bar to see if Penny knew anything. 

“Oh, believe me, sharp objects and I do not mix,” you remarked, looking at his score before passing him as he went to collect the darts. You lent against the nearby pillar, pressing your glass to your chest. 

“You can’t be that bad,” he glanced over his shoulder, pulling the last dart from the board. 

“You’ve clearly never seen me on a good day. I’m a natural klutz,” you said, sipping your drink. Jake moved away from the board only to stop in front of you, holding out the darts in his hand.

 “Prove it.” 

You looked down, apprehensive of grabbing them. You accidentally drew blood the last time you threw a dart in Penny’s bar. You still felt horrible thinking about it, managing to skim an Admiral’s forehead. To this day, you swore you’d never touch the things again. 

But then you took in Jake’s face, amused and assured, as if you were just being modest about being a bad shot. He clearly wasn’t going to let it go, shoving his hand out again to emphasize he was dead serious.

“I warned you,” you offered, placing your glass next to his bottle on a side table, shedding your jacket and glasses before grabbing a dart from his hand. 

You attempted to line yourself up with the center of the dartboard. At first, you stood sideways, cocking your arm back several times in an attempt to let the dart go. The angle felt too awkward, and your hand started to cramp from how long you took. Then you completely turned to face it, fiddling with your grip while trying to fix your eyes between either the dart or the board. 

You managed to fake out three throws before deciding to give up.

Sighing, you dropped your hand, “Jake, I’m going to hurt someone if I throw this damn thing.” 

Jake tried to hold in his laughter, watching you struggle while leaning against the same pillar. He pushed himself off, uncrossing his arms before gently reaching for your wrist.

You looked at him, unsure, taking a step back,  “What are you doing?” 

Jake shook his head, reaching out again for your wrist. “Just trust me.”

You let Jake bring your hand up. His whole hand, warm and rough, engulfed yours as he positioned it where he wanted. You sucked in a breath through your teeth when you felt his fingers, barely grasping at your hip bone, pull you closer to him.

“Loosen your hand,” he squeezed, forcing you to attempt to calm the tension in your wrist. It was hard when you could only concentrate on the feeling of his chest lightly bumping your back. With each touch, you could feel yourself resisting the urge to lurch forward with a shiver racing up your spine. 

“Relax your shoulders.” He spoke, before tapping the heel of your boot with the top of his, making you take a step forward a bit. You gulped when you heard him say, “Widen your legs.” 

You breathed in through your mouth, forcing the exhale to drag your shoulders down. It was a few seconds before he murmured, “Close your eyes.” 

“Jake,” you warned. 

“There’s nobody around. I won’t let you hurt someone.” 

You sighed, closing your eyes and dropping your head slightly. Jake moved your hand again, softly squeezing once more. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you felt the heat of his breath travelling towards the left side of your jaw. 

“Throw it,’ he rasped into your ear. 

Jake loosened his hold on your wrist, feeling his calloused fingers trailing down your arm before lifting them off. The second his hand left your skin, you flicked your wrist forward as if his touch burned you. You refused to open your eyes, scared you might have hit someone or something old and well past its years on the wall. 

“Look.” 

You sharply breathed through your nose before opening your eyes to glance at the board. 

The dart had managed to hit the center. You couldn’t help but smile. 

“How’s that?” he squeezed your hip. “Not as bad as you thought.” 

“No blood is a first,” you said, proud of yourself. 

Turning around to thank him, the words died on your lips as you felt his breath warm your face. Jake had yet to let you go, his hand still clutching your waist and his nose a few inches from grazing yours. 

The decision you made, standing in your front yard last Saturday while face to face with Jake, about never putting yourself in a position where he could break your heart, was far from your mind. You took in everything about him. His sandy hair, his jawline, his eyes which then met yours. 

Jake’s stare brought you back to standing with him in your kitchen, washing dishes, and seeing his soft smile for the first time. Facing off in your backyard to guess music, him twirling one of Sadie’s pencils in his hand while helping her with homework, handing her the yellow tulip in your hallway. 

Jake could no longer hear the chants of Penny and the rest of the Daggers saying to leave you alone in his head. They were being replaced with the pump of his heart, a feeling he only experienced while pulling Gs. And then your eyes, wide and bright, drew him in. 

They were kind and soft. The type to have experienced laughter and the type of smiles that would make someone’s face hurt. You were looking at him like he was more than the metal wings pinned to his shirt. More than the good-looking pilot from Texas. More than just Hangman. 

His eyes dropped to your lips, feeling your warm breath on his and noticing the subtle scent of the Whiskey you had slipped prior. Could he still taste it, he thought, if he just tilted his head a little further down? 

And then the barbell rang. 

Three times. 

Jake immediately stepped back, head turning towards the bar with the healthy fear Penny had rung the bell for getting too close to you. But she and Coyote were standing off with some unlucky guy whose face had turned beat red at the bar. He had no cell phone, so either he disrespected the Navy or a lady and was not pleased about buying a round. 

He squeezed your waist, winking at you with a grin, before letting go to join Coyote at the bar. You bit your lip, watching him pat the man on his shoulder before hooking his arm under his, easily carrying him off to the side door with Javy. 

“You okay, Liz?” Penny called out, your eyes snapping to her as she raised an eyebrow.

Despite not knowing what the frick just happened, you called back, “Yeah, I think so,” while gripping the corner of the pillar with one hand. 

If she asked you why your legs were wobbling, you'd blame the whiskey.

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233 @emorychase @ereardon

@dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby @phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447

@fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower

Please let me know if I missed you or if you want to be added!

Might be a little bit before Part 5, as I suddenly got swarmed with work stuff before my work conference at the end of March, but I will try my best!

Wickett ;)

[mod-kyoko]

Hello! Id like to make another request! So this one is not exactly nsfw in the general sense, but does involve link, although it does seem thats alright on this blog

Would it be possible to make hcs or a story (both are completely alright) with the scenario where gender-neutral reader meets Gundham Tanaka, and it starts off with fearplay vibes before becoming fluff later? (Reader starts off intimidated/scared of Gundham, but warms up to him)

Thank you a lot for reading and potentially considering this! Its alright if youd prefer nto to write it of course too!

gundham tanaka w/ reader that's scared of him (then warms up to him)

info: gn!reader, kinda nsfw?, fearplay kink, reader is DOWN BAD

type: hc format, in neo world program

a/n: I had no idea what to even call this ask lmfao, I love this funky nerdy DND soundin' ass mfker

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

waking up on this strange island, meeting the oddball of characters made you stand out if anything

still you made introductions around the island, everyone seemed like fun people... even hiyoko and fuyuhiko weren't as scary as they should be. but that might just be because they were short..

you last stop was the... ranch? why was there a ranch on an island?

ignoring the strange logic you noticed a boy you hadn't met before

...

he looked like dracula's son

now, you weren't one to judge another by the cover, even with nekomaru large size and ibuki's punky attire you didn't judge base off looks

but with him... you felt nervous to even approach him, his mere aura made a tight cramp form in your stomach and you face felt hot

was that a scar over his eye?!

and his arm is bandaged... was he a dangerous person?

you approached him cautiously, he seemed to be in thought and didn't notice you until you spoke up

"h-hi... I'm-"

"fuhahaha! do you wish to know my name?"

"uhm.. I didn't say-"

"very well, you may be graced by the Lord of Ice himself; listen well for I am GUNDHAM TANAKA! supreme overlord of ice and destroyer of worlds! cower in fear at my power!"

you were doing just that

even though it sounded ridiculous to hear it from a human being's mouth, somehow you felt like he was really a 'destroyer of worlds' from how he presented himself

you stood there with wide eyes, you had to admit that you were actually afraid of him... more so than the other students on this island

he chuckled and crossed his arms, leering at you

"well, mortal? are you truly speechless at the supreme form of the dark lord? my all-seeing eyes see your shaking form!"

indeed, you were shaking in your shoes and you tried to hide it by saying that it was just cold although he went on a rant that his title of 'lord as ice' gives such an aura

whilst he was rambling, your eyes looked him over

he seemed pretty fit and your eyes admittedly stare at his chest, your face couldn't help but heat up

this was weird... you were scared and intimidated by him, yet you found his appearance and demeanour very attractive

supreme overlord of ice... you wondered if you could be his loyal minion and to follow his every beck and call

whilst staring, you noticed his scarf was moving around and your gasp got his attention

"kehehehe...how lucky of a mortal you are that my four dark devas of destruction are not hungry, for as they are violent as they look..."

he pulled at his scarf and... four little hamsters scurried around him

gundham told you their names, adding dramatic flair to each one of them

however, you were mainly focused on how cute they were! you couldn't help but pet one of them much to gundham's surprise

"they are so... terrifyingly cute!"

gundham began to blush and hide part of his face into his scarf

"hm... it seems you have an affinity with even my dark devas... they would not usually allow mortals to touch them. perhaps you have a hidden dark power not even yourself know."

you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about but it intrigued you regardless, still petting his little hamsters

that was when you were made aware of his talent as an ultimate 'breeder'... so he works with animals? huh...

maybe you were quick to judge his character, even if he is still kind of... scary, he must have a heart of gold to love animals this much

you walked back with gundham to the hotel whilst he went on and on about demons and... deities, something like that. you just stared at him for the rest of the way

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

-Mod Kirumi

[mywifeleftme]

363: R.E.M. // Murmur

Murmur R.E.M. 1983, IRS

Some Short, Disconnected Statements on the Matter of Murmur

1. Insert the following into Waring blender

The Velvet Underground, Pylon, the Byrds, Gang of Four, Patti Smith, the Feelies, Joy Division, the Method Actors, Big Star, the dB’s, the Monkees. Press “Blend” button. (I’ve never owned a blender; I don’t know what the buttons say.)

2. Easy formula for a great band

Having one temperamental genius songwriter guy sounds kind of hard to maintain. Have you considered simply getting four people who are really excellent and distinctive at the respective things they do (at least three of them great singers), who all write well, get along, lack substance abuse issues, have good taste, and modest egos? Why don’t more bands do this?

3. Notes on the early discourse

A lot of the things people wrote back in the early ‘80s to champion this band were dumb as hell. R.E.M. weren’t good because they didn’t use keyboards or synths; pop music didn’t need to be returned to its "honest" folk-rock roots; giving them a thumbs up for not wearing flashy clothes and makeup is dork behaviour.

They were good because they made weird music that derived organically from their time (early ‘80s), place (a college town in the South), and selves (bright, independent, adventurous, sincere, ¼ gay).

Anyone who listened to Chronic Town or Murmur, with their post-punky murk and lyrical references to Laocoön and Marat, and thought to themselves, “As yes, the second coming of Roger McGuinn, this will put those effete new wavers to flight,” was an idiot.

4. Veteran of the psychic war

Somewhere around age 22, R.E.M. took over the mantle Metallica had held as My Favourite Band in the World Forever and Ever, and I proceeded to be almost as annoying about them as I had been Hetfield and the boys. I posted a lot about them; rigged “best music” polls on random message boards I didn’t even post on in their favour; cornered people at parties; crowbarred them into playlists; grumpily chose to dislike bands I saw as stealing their shine; etc. etc. Some (some) of this is maybe cute in retrospect, but really: don’t be like this about music. If you love a band this much, learn how to play their songs on an instrument; write a few poems; paint something. Worst case: review them.

5. Learning nothing, 2024

6. Athens: Lyrics & Enunciation

The matter of what exactly Stipe was singing on the early R.E.M. records was a subject of intense speculation, and eventually, parody. Some of the mystery’s in the mixing, some’s in his Georgian accent, and some’s in his enunciation (never quite as mushy as people claimed, but not exactly Ella Fitzgerald either). But most of it’s in the arbitrary decisions he makes with regard to syntax that cause even accurate transcriptions to seem implausible. Stipe is probably a little bit autistic, which goes some way to explaining the impressionistic intuitiveness of his words, and also went to art school, which fetishizes that sort of thing, but he was always shy of people seeing the words to something like “Sitting Still” on the page because he thought he might be exposed as a nincompoop. “Up to par and Katie bars / The kitchen side, but not me in / Sitting top of the big hill / Waste of time sitting still,” goes the chorus, according to at least one gnostic sect, but the important passage is the one everyone agrees on, when the stream of impassioned babble releases into a howled “I can hear you / Can you hear me?”

Later on, when he would sing more clearly over airy arrangements, with the lyrics neatly printed in the booklet, he’d occasionally try one of those old sound-over-sense moves and embarrass himself (“Leaving New York was never my proud” still rankles). But Murmur’s eternal elusiveness is in the way fragments of sense catch your ear from out of its sleeptalk glossolalia:

“The pilgrimage has gained momentum” “Conversation fear” “Lighted, lighted / Laughing in tune” “Hear the howl of the rope / A question” “A perfect circle of acquaintances and friends / Drink another, coin a phrase” “Shaking through / Opportune” “Take oasis” “Heaven assumes / Shoulders high in the room” “Did we miss anything?”

7. Permission to be arbitrary

I remember sitting in the basement of my college house with my old hometown buddy Brad (mostly a metal/classic rock guy), playing him “Shaking Through” and explaining one of the things I love about old R.E.M. is that it’s great music to yell to. I don’t know how much he really got it, but we were drunk and it’s a catchy song, so we howled and made keening, wordless, Stipean noises along with it and the next few until one of my roommates came and asked us to keep it down.

Also: one theory for why cats purr when they’re injured is that the vibrations somehow reduce pain and encourage healing. From many experiences humming these songs while wrapped up in headphones and bedsheets in the middle of a day that’s passing like a kidney stone, I can confirm.

8. Note on the modern discourse: Influence?

Black Francis, Kurt Cobain, Bob Mould, Steve Malkmus, Bob Pollard, and Thom Yorke loved R.E.M. So did, to his own apparent consternation, Metallica’s Cliff Burton. Still, you sit down with someone and listen to those musicians with the goal of showing them the R.E.M. influence (don’t do this, why would you do this?) and it’s honestly pretty oblique. Most of the bands who directly aped aspects of R.E.M.'s early sound were at best pleasantly minor (see Captured Tracks’ Strum & Thrum comp), and the ones who seemed to be listening most closely to their ‘90s efforts were not who you want.

Their ultimate influence was probably simply showing what an art-first, indie-adjacent rock band could accomplish by sticking to their guns and bending the system to their desires instead of being bent by it. They were like a Velvet Underground for the college rock era, except everyone talented who heard them was inspired to start a band that didn’t sound much like them. They always used their spotlight to introduce people to other bands and, when they really got huge, they modeled how to deal with success. There don’t seem to be many R.E.M. stories, Peter Buck’s airplane incident aside, about them being anything other than kind. That’s a fundamentally less exciting type of influence than most other “great” bands have. But I do think it’s kinda cool they were the wise old heads for an entire national movement of alternative music.

8b.

Of course, it still bugs me people don’t think they’re cool. Murmur at least, should be considered cool. And Reckoning, mostly. Chronic Town for sure. Some of Fables. Am I crazy for saying some of Monster and New Adventures even? I’ll stop. I’ll go on.

9(-9). The music

They were a pop band, they were an art band; they sounded like children, and like craggy old men buried in kudzu weed; natural and pretentious; date-stamped and timeless. Decide yourself. Happy 41st birthday Murmur.

363/365

[betterbemeta]

"despairpilled whatevercore" is how I would describe Cyberpunk 2077 itself so far. Maybe it will surprise me. But I doubt it. let me explain but backwards:

Whatevercore,,,

The first thing that stands out to me about this setting is that there is no concept of 'counterculture.' In a game that has 'punk' in the title! That may be part of the 'point', that because the dominant culture's capitalist nightmare has consumed every possible human choice, motivation, emotional experience or expression it's all for sale and therefore it's extremely difficult to meaningfully oppose it. The police is normative culture. fuck the police is normative culture. conformity is normative, non-conformity is normative, rage against the machine is normative as a part of the machine... But what this means is that every possible aesthetic is blasting in your face at any given time at maximum volume surrounded by the trashiest possible conditions even in the supposedly high-class areas, so there are very few coherent emotional statements, reactions to the conditions (come back to this later) that could constitute 'punk art.'

And no, faking some kind of future-street-slanguage stand-in for AAVE does not constitute 'urban' punky flavor.

(Caption: ugh)

It's just aesthetic 'whatever' made with voyeurism to a racialized, class-linked idea of 'subculture' in mind, with no authentic foundation.

Now, I can understand the type of satire that exaggerates current conditions to express dissatisfaction with them, a desire to blow them all to bits. Warhammer 40k is a bit like this. But Cyberpunk 2077 makes the same mistake as Warhammer 40k: earnestly marketing the dystopian conditions as 'cool.' In reality everyone in this entire Cyberpunk 2077 world is deeply deeply uncool because none of them are fighting the currents that deposit them like sand in the suffering river, or at least not in any way that doesn't just replicate its conditions. you're never 'cool' if you follow the dominant hierarchical authoritarian thought in the world you live in, yes even if you mean to oppose it and YES! THAT MEANS YOU, KEANU REEVES! HOW DID PLAYING PRESIDENT TRUMAN SIMULATOR WORK OUT FOR YOU?

Rolling around being a super cool cyber assassin as a power fantasy is not counterculture in the world of Cyberpunk 2077 itself. at all. I have no choice but to be V who is one, and my experience is smooth and requires no thinking or friction besides two shit plot options that will both end bad for me sometimes, or how to blow up a buncha guys with my mind bullets and regular bullets. I swooce between cyber gang bandit lairs cleaning them out for the police. My wardrobe is mostly clothes i take from my dead enemies. I look horrible and I cant do anything about it right now.

I tried to design my V as a cute goth trans girl because if the game is going to force me to have a gender, that's the only correct answer. Sure, they have a bunch of lipstick shapes but they all kind of suck and ONLY ONE SHADE OF BLACK?! perish by my hand!!! There are a lot of 'options' for the character creator but all and all you can't actually execute them well as part of a 'look' anywhere near the start of the game so right away spiritually, physically, aesthetically, you're doomed to basically be 'whatevercore.' I could understand 'you gain the right to express yourself as you become more badass and accumulate more stuff' except for 1) the game LEADS with that this is a world of 'style over substance' in the character creator (an anti-punk statement if I ever heard one!!! the right to be so substantial you make people SICK is a punk fundamental RIGHT!) and 2) if a 14 year old could be a goth in middle school how come nobody running around is really 'anything' including me????

Despairpilled,,,

An important question and what I suspect is the theme of this game comes pretty early, from Dexter DeShawn: "Would you rather live in peace as Mr. Nobody, die ripe, old and smelling slightly of urine? Or go down for all times in a blaze of glory, smelling near like posies, without seeing your thirtieth?"

He's asking if I'm suicidal.

Everywhere I turn in Night City there's graffiti like, NO FUTURE or, THE END IS HERE. I think I saw an ACAB once but it was under a bunch of other stuff.

Even at the top of society, suicide seems like a prevalent theme given its relevance to Saburo Arasaka and his various children. Hell, Saburo wants you (an American) to be suicidal. It seems to be his goal, in how the Arasaka corporation targets the USA in specific. He is fighting a war against 'America' personally, like it's WWII. In a literal sense. The Japanese dominance in this story is primarily a dated one formed of American guilt, a fear of repercussions for atrocities of the atomic bomb from an enemy that committed (and denies) its own atrocities.

I don't want to say suicide isn't a powerful theme for a story. But the execution of this (no pun intended?) has very little relevance in a video game where your future does not move forward unless you do it yourself and moving forward often means like... roaming around barging into people's homes and getting into a zillion gunfights to no permanent consequences for you.

When I think of 'punk' attitudes, I don't really think about suicide by cop or drug overdose or a detachment from reality. I think like, 'we're not going to take this.' I think about Pride. I think about black activism. I think about die-ins on the steps at Capitol Hill. I think about a desire to live, demanding others not look away from those who are living and feeling. I think about anger at human sacrifice. Riots typically are about the right to not die, they aren't about a death wish.

[hannahwatcheshorror]

THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD (1985)

😿dog half un-dies (I guess?)

This is a wild follow up to NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD but is an extremely fun time and a great movie. Just don’t expect it to be like its predecessor. Special effects were a treat, use of the F-word felt very natural (who wouldn’t be saying it in their situation?), and the characters felt genuine and likable. You can see how it is inspired by the previous film and that influence only makes this one better. This movie is a romp and a half, I highly recommend it, (and as long as everyone is okay with a little female nudity) watch this with friends!

⭐⭐⭐⭐.5

Right off the bat, let me just say that I love how the whole premise of this movie is based around the US Army royally screwing up AND making faulty equipment. At first I wasn’t sure how they were going to make this punky and colorful sequel have anything to do with its black & white dramatic predecessor but they used it as non-fiction in universe movie lore (think like Grave Encounters only it doesn’t lead you to the place where you die, oh wait).

Freddy is our friend who now works at a medical supply place (the kind that sells real skeletons, cadavers, and half-dogs) with this guy Frank who wants to scare the new kid with these sPoOkY metal barrels the army left behind back in 1968 (though Frank claims 1969), he says they contain bodies from the actual events that inspired the movie NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. They go down to investigate and to prove their strength Frank slaps a barrel like he’s a car salesman and the thing immediately starts to spew a thick yellow gas that knocks them both out. 

When they come to, the cadaver in the freezer is dancing a jig (and his little half-dog too) but here is where I have my first problem, the zombies are just so damn fast. For a reanimated stiff that was frozen, you’d think this first guy would be a little more… Stiff. But he runs out that door like a sprinter and doesn’t stop squiggling and squirming until they roast up his pieces in the crematorium. Not thinking about the smoke rising from the chimney (all thick and yellow) the team falsely assume the night is over. Rain pours the chemical smoke back down to earth and now the party really begins because Freddy’s punk friends are all rocking out in the graveyard (aptly named Resurrection) and suddenly this acid rain is gonna wake the dead.

Our girl, Trash, (that is her name, I’m not making fun of her), gets the death she always wanted, ripped apart by old men (the dream, really). The rest of the wildly named gang hightail it out of there and find themselves face to face with the original Barrel Boy. He is a goopy mess who not only knows how to use tools but understands the basics of leverage? This guy was really scary and freaky and wasn’t fast but he was persistent and I think that made him the worst of them all! He was also one of the Zoombobbies we watched just grab a character by the face and bite into their head which is a lot to process. Award for best/worst Z-Babe to the Gooey Basement Barrel Boy.

Speaking of dead people, Freddy and Frank just simply do not have vital signs anymore. They are talking and moving around but… Yikes, let’s get them some help. But oh, no! This sets off a domino effect of paramedics being called and eaten then cops being called then eaten. The wild thing is, it was the reanimated who kept calling for more help. That was very alarming to me. But it also confused me about what exactly these guys are. I joke around not always calling them “Zombies” but half of the time they seem like magical beings the way they have been decomposing in the ground for goodness knows how long but then were able to crawl out and now can sprint and have incredible strength? I don’t fully buy it (shenanigans). In NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, the threat was in hoards and being overwhelmed, but in this film (much like 28 DAYS LATER) just one Zomb-o in your area and you’re basically already dead.

Finally when things came down to it they contacted the number on the barrels, they asked the army for help, they thought they could handle it on their own and just bury the problem but they couldn’t. Turns out the army had a contingency plan in case this sort of thing ever happened. They just NUKED LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY. I understand WHY they did it, but there have to be some real ramifications from just casually launching a nuke. I don’t think the rest of the world would just sit quietly when the US bombs one of its own cities. Maybe it is just our political climate now (vs 1985 when this film came out) but I think it is wild that that was their solution and they just ended it there like US citizens weren’t rioting in the streets saying, “I had family there!” and that neighboring towns weren’t suffering radiation poisoning… WILD.

[marypsue]

hi mary! do you have any book recommendations for fans of the indian lake trilogy and/or horror books in general? i love your writing (followed way back for your gf fics lol) and would love to hear if theres anything in particular you'd recommend ^^

Oh hello hello hello! You've activated my trap card.

Honestly, I read less horror than I let on, and have started reading it more recently than not, so this may be a rather short list. But yeah I absolutely have some recommendations! If you enjoyed My Heart Is A Chainsaw (I really have to read the sequel) and you like my writing, I think our aesthetic and narrative sensibilities should be pretty similar, so hopefully these will be books you'll also enjoy.

First on the list and most obvious is of course My Best Friend's Exorcism, by Grady Hendrix. It's perfect companion reading for My Heart Is A Chainsaw, also being about two teenage girls navigating a difficult period in their friendship, complicated by the fact that something supernatural may or may not be trying to kill them and everyone around them, and may or may not, in fact, exist. Abby and Gretchen and their friendship are so wonderfully drawn, the absurd humour only underlines the helpless horror of their situation, and the climax made me bawl like a fucking infant. 11/10 no notes.

I'd also recommend We Sold Our Souls, also by Grady Hendrix, for some of the same and some slightly different reasons. If you were drawn in by Jade's girl-alone-against-the-world situation and her punky, horror-movie-obsessed alternative vibe, you'll like Kris Pulaski and her heavy metal quest to get her life and her music back. Another one that made me cry, and it's only getting more timely and relevant with every passing year.

I really liked Nick Medina's Sisters of the Lost Nation, about an older sister looking for her younger sister after the latter disappears from their reservation after a secret rendezvous at the recently-constructed casino. Anna and Jade share a certain 'nobody else is going to fix this, so it's up to me' sensibility, the way the author pulls together ancient mythology and modern horrors is well-crafted and spooky, and there's a deeply intentional queer thread running through this one from start to finish. Warning, though, this is a deeply, deeply sad book.

In terms of meta horror about horror, Riley Sager's Final Girls surprised me with how good and gripping it was. I picked it up expecting easy-reading paperback fluff, and got sucked right in. If you crossed over Halloween: H20 with Twin Peaks, you might get something like this book. I never see anybody talking about it anywhere ever and I have to strongly recommend it. (Unfortunately, it didn't focus as closely on the relationships between the 'final girls' as I wanted it to, but I still wasn't disappointed.)

Joe Hill's N0S48U kicked my ass and made me say 'thank you'. This one's pretty tragic, so maybe give it a miss if you don't want to read about bad things happening to characters you like, but, well, this is horror. Notable because the antagonist is Christmas-themed, and honestly, I've never seen anyone else so effectively harness the crawling feeling of Wrongness that seeing Christmas shit in July gives me.

And, going wayyyy back, one of the first horror novels I actually read all the way through (on the advice of a friend), Stephen King's The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. If you were a My Side Of The Mountain / Hatchet kind of kid, this is the book for you. And if for some obscure reason you haven't read Carrie yet, what are you waiting for.

I also read Paul Tremblay's The Pallbearers' Club, which somehow didn't quite manage to deliver on what I was hoping for, but which you might enjoy if you liked some of the other books on this list. If you like punk music and/or characters who like punk music, meta conceits, and New England folklore, give it a shot. (I think I knew a little too much about the subject matter going in for some of the big ~surprises~ to actually surprise me.)

I've also got on my TBR list Edgar Cantero's Meddling Kids, Stephen Graham Jones' The Only Good Indians, Jessica Johns' Bad Cree, and Riley Sager's The House Across The Lake and Survive the Night. I can't speak for any of them yet, though.

(And tossing a movie onto this list, you might really enjoy Netflix's The Final Girls. It's a lot fluffier than My Heart Is A Chainsaw, but for a fun meta slasher horror-mostly-comedy, it was a solid good time. With an ambush sequence that was pretty clearly inspired by Joel Schumacher's The Lost Boys!)

[dreamsister81]

An account by fan Albert Jagger (friend of photographer Gavin Woods) on seeing Jeff over three momentous days via FB, March 18, 2020:

I think that the Bunjies gig has already been well documented, but from a personal point of view the place was already packed out when I got there. The place was a Turkish (I think) coffee & cake cafe in a basement, it had two rooms (one for the cafe and one for the performance space, both about the size of a double bedroom), people were crammed into both rooms and the stairs leading down from the street were also full with people trying to crane the necks just to get a glimpse inside the performance room through the single doorway. There was a great air of expectation.

Jeff walked through the crowd giving out single flowers from a big bunch on his way to the performance room, stopping to say hello to a few folk on his way to the "stage" (just a small area in the corner). Despite it being busy and not too loud, everyone fell silent as soon as Jeff started and were polite enough to watch a couple of songs and shuffle around so others could also see. I managed to glimpse a few songs towards the end of the set through the head filled doorway.

The set itself was very similar to the expanded Sin'e album, a few from Grace / some songs in development / random covers.

After the gig I took the poster from the street outside and chatted to a few people. There was a rumour of another show the same night around the corner at Andy's guitar shop. I figured it was worth a try and made my way there as the Bunjies crowd dispersed into the streets.

The Forge was a tiny venue space attached to the guitar shop, with a stage about 1m square. When I got there a father and son were playing some blues to a handfull of people.

When people from the Bunjies gig started to drift in they must have thought they'd hit the big time! It wasn't too long before Jeff and his small entourage arrived. This gig seemed a lot more relaxed than Bunjies as it was now getting late (me and a friend had already resigned ourselves to getting a night bus home) and many people had got the tube home.

There was a bit more chatting to the small crowd between songs (Jeff asked if anyone had anything to smoke, as I'd just come back from Amsterdam I rolled him a joint while he did the next song). After the gig Jeff signed my Bunjies poster.

On the way out I was told that he was playing another show the next day (Saturday 19th) at Rough Trade record shop in Covent Garden at midday to launch the Sin'e EP. The Rough Trade set was quite short and more of an in-store signing session (they had a box of Sin'e EPs for sale, but I don't think it was released until the following week).

The things that stick out for me at this gig (apart from Jeff writing a message on my EP cover) are Jeff signing the ceiling (it was a low basement shop, I have been back since but it had become a trainer shop with the ceiling now painted over) and bizarrely Jeff saying that Kurt Cobain needed to be very careful, he seemed genuinely worried about Kurt's welfare. I went home and played the Sin'e CD on repeat.

On the Sunday morning (20th) I remembered meeting a lady at Bunjies who told me that Jeff was playing her youth club on Sunday night in Stevenage. I drove to Stevenage on Sunday afternoon with only the name of the club in my head (Bowes Lyon youth club), it is amazing how anything got arranged in those days with no internet and basic mobile phones!

After stopping a few times to ask directions I found the club (attached to a pub, The Red Lion?) when I walked in there were young teens who had turned up to see their grunge / punky mates band running around along with family of the band.

I couldnt see anyone from the previous 2 days and was starting to think i was in the wrong place until I saw Jeffs face popping out from under a pile of coats on a sofa, catching a nap before the show.

As often happens at small gigs, once the young band had played there crowd and family seemed to drift away, so it was quite empty by the time Jeff played, with maybe 30 people there.

Looking back this seemed to be the last of this period for Jeff without the band, he was goofing around more tonight - stopping to run through a series of "modelling poses" when he saw a camera and giving verbal production notes in between lyrics "and this is where the drums kick in, etc...".

I had a long drive back home so didn't stick around after the gig.

The next time I saw him play was with the band at The Garage, showcasing much of the Grace album in a much more streamlined show. (📷 Kevin Westernberg)

[the-queerview]

Blue Jean (2023)

directed by Georgia Oakley

A lesbian drama placed in Margret Tatchers late 80s England. Jean is a closeted gym teacher living two lives between punky lesbian bar and teaching girls fake basketball. Last night my partner taught me that there were softer versions of sports like basketball or handball for women due sexism...like as an example netball which is like basketball but "softer"..

Jean got a new student Lois, who she encounters at the lesbian bar of her choice, scared about loosing her job, she threatens the young, gay student to be silent about her sexual identity. The young student is bullied by her teammates and the main bully kisses her in the shower, and portrayed it as sexual misconduct, which Jean saw while watching them in the shower ( CREEP*). Afterwards the student gets kicked out of school and starts working a shitty job. Jean is lying about Louis truth ( she obviously didn't assault the bully) to save her own ass. Parallel the actually beautiful side story between Jean and her dyke gf Viv ( which is my favorite character of the film) falls apart, when Viv realizes that Jean is clearly fucked in the head and won't be open about their love and is to afraid to be herself, besides NOT communicating her feelings and needs.

Jean followed Lois like a stalker (like leave that 15 year old alone bro that's not cool) but not to apologize but to tell her how bad she feels about being a coward and ruining Lois school career?

The film ends with Jean bringing Lois to a lesbian party, where they do fundraising for poor Lesbians, since they support each other.

okay now the roast.

Well i have to say, i liked the actresses, they did a good job with that. I clearly think Jean is a terrible role model and I'm tired of weird ass lesbian portraits. like do they always have to be such freaks?? like thinking of the the austrian lesbian drama "The Ground Beneath My Feet" (2019) by Marie Kreutzer. Like it's always a weird ass cliche or is it me? maybe as being a freak myself I crave for different representations.

In this film we know, that it took many brave women and queers to raise their voice, so I can walk basically. Why telling the story of the ones, that weren't brave enough or just casually ruined other queers live to save themselves? i guess to tell this story is also valid and important, but the way the movie did it, was build up in a way, that I have to feel empathy for Jean, but I don't. I'm actually angry and disappointed and feel that Jean ruined Lois life, since she was suspended. We don't know about Lois economic background, but since she starts working immediately, we can grasp that Lois won't have a second chance. How are Lesbians supposed to change the world and be visible, if they stay invisible trough gatekeeping by other lesbians. And then the Lesbian with the fancy flat chain smoking, brings you to a fundraiser party of poor lesbians????

I feel the director was interested to portray a complex search for identity, and thou its beautifully filmed, I struggle with the time span of the film, the use of a young, vulnerable person, without any big character development.. but hey maybe its that.. everyone else besides Jean in the film feels slightly not important, because in jean's world Jean is important..

It's Georgia Oakley second long film. I didn't watch Bored by her, but I will check out. Born 1988 Oakley choose they year, where she was born for her Drama blue Jean.

Jean finds a books at Vivs place, when she cant sleep. Its called Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness, and deals with a lesbian epidemic. Excited to dig into that.

your comments welcomed below<3

[charleeadamsart]

✿ WTF Even is This?

I make (and share) art to connect people in this late stage capitalist hellscape.

I’m inspired by 90s counterculture, punk/DIY/zine aesthetics, queerness, neurospice + retinal burning colour. I make prints, zines, illustrations, posters + collages.

I want you to see my art + feel something (hopefully, ultimately, that you’re not alone).

So put on your peril sensitive sunglasses + join me.

Check out all my posts of my own work. You can also see all my finished pieces over at my Insta account. I mostly work with ink + digital drawing, analogue + digital collage, and lino. You'll find the materials, resources + references I used at the bottom of every Tumblr post.

If you make banging alternative/counterculture art, I'd love to share it! Hit me up if you have something you want me to share. If I don't feel it fits with the vibe of the page, I might not share it directly, but I'll periodically post a "punk art follows" list featuring the best accounts I didn't share. No submissions from under 16s plz.

Ah go on, Father. Ya will ya will ya will ya will. I do band/gig posters, album covers, punky-grungy graphic design, branding + (cheap, fast, accessible) websites. I occasionally do an art commission, too, if it's the right job. Talk to me.

Transphobia is not very punk rock of you. I won't tolerate that or any other bigoted bs, so expect to be blocked if you show up here with the hate. This is a safe space for everyone except dickheads. If I unwittingly share a post from a dickhead, let me know please!

[musicallisto]

Numbers fifteen through twenty for the girl blogger ask game??

15. favorite celebrity couple? i don't really follow celebrity drama (that's a lie actually, I do lmao I just don't have strong opinions on anyone really) so I don't really have a favorite celebrity couple? like everyone on this planet I am of course very much in love with ryan reynolds & blake lively, but I also think tom holland & zendaya and saoirse ronan & jack lowden are really cute together!

16. closet essentials? leather jacket, pleated skirt (I desperately want a punky plaid one), cargo pants, white blouse, turtlenecks, pencil miniskirt, and accessories (!!!! a bandana is paramount)

17. favorite scent? vanilla, lavender, warm bread fresh out the oven

18. favorite singer/band? all time low is my favorite band and artist! my other favorite artists include 5 seconds of summer, taylor swift, chase atlantic, and halsey <3

19. tattoos/piercings I want? I don't want any tattoos, but if I had to get one, I'd get a cat silhouette drawn by my mom (something similar to this). it has a special meaning to me and it would be a cute way to always carry her with me <3

20. favorite book? wind, sand and stars by antoine de saint-exupéry!

girlblogger asks!

[moonbiscuitsims]

The Los Aniegos Vamps Part 1

Los Aniegos Vamps Part 2

It was about time I did something with my Sims 3 screenshots :) Here we have Charlotte Von Crimson, Viktor Caleb, and Omar Khalil.

Charlotte is the oldest vampire, having already lived over a century, she often hibernates and doesn't get a lot done, immortality has worn her thin and everyone she used to care about has long died, but she is starting to get inspired to follow her lost dreams of becoming an Author, the reason she originally moved to Los Aniegos from Austria in the first place, now that some younger vampires have shown her that immortality doesn't necessarily mean there is no purpose towards things.

Viktor, originally from Germany has been a vampire for around 40 years, frozen in his age he misses the 70's era when he aspired to become a rock musician in Los Aniegos before being attacked and turned one night out at (what he didn't know at the time was) a vampire bar. Viktor is grateful to Charlotte for showing him home in her secluded home in the middle of the lake, where they can safely be themselves. He contributes by making plenty of Plasma Fruit Nectar, which he learned about when he first got turned.

Finally we have our youngest vampire Omar Khalil, a man who moved to Los Aniegos from Egypt, Al Simhara to be exact, where he hoped to achieve his dreams of becoming a Celebrity Psychic (don't worry, it's definitely legit and not a scam...). It's only been about 18 years for him, but becoming a vampire from his perspective has been fantastic, he is loving the lifestyle and the security of knowing his time won't be running out anytime soon, though perhaps he should listen to Charlotte's warnings about making yourself too visible and bringing attention towards yourself as an immortal, soon someone is bound to notice you never age... It's probably better to keep on the down low. Viktor often wishes he could pursue his music, but knows it's risky to get recognised, so sticks to simply composing music anonymously for other musicians.

Los Aniegos is a fantastic FREE custom world for the Sims 3 which I highly recommend (DOWNLOAD HERE), inspired by Los Angeles. It is probably the most unlikely place I could have decided to make vampires due to its arid sub-desert climate but I liked the idea of vampires in Hollywood. Plus Charlotte over the many decades of her life has become quite good at Alchemy and has figured out a way to make Vampiric Sunscreen, allowing them to enjoy the Los Aniegos sun, only side effect is weird sparkles.

I'd love to give a cc list but quite frankly aside from NRAAS mods, Smooth Patch (Lazy Duchess), Sliders to get rid of Potato Sims, a few hairs CC and some conversions I honestly don't use that many, at least not that I feel are essential or that I really remember. Sims 3 is extremely customisable compared to all other sims games. Nearly all the effects and textures seen here are just from the game's create a style itself.

I definitely recommend all of Club Crimsyn Sims 3 content (here) especially for grungy, creepy or punky sims.

[freakingoutthesquares]

Russell's Japan Tour Diary (Part One) (Part two is here) Words: Russell Senior, Photographer: Richard Priest Taken from the New Musical Express, 24 February 1996

Tales of debauched saké-fuelled revelry, Yakuza baiting, sexually perverted roadies and scantily-clad schoolgirls kicking giraffes - yup, it's Pulp, of course, on tour in Japan as seen through the hi-tech shades of guitarist/violinist extraordinaire Russell Senior. Russ takes us on a trip through the neon-lit cartoon ultraworld where Shampoo are huge and the 'fans' come bearing gifts...

Arriving at Osaka airport, the overwhelming impression is of having arrived on another planet sometime in the future. Everyone waits in silent order for a silver machine to take them to an antiseptically clean lounge where perfect chrome dustbins with colour-coded liners are each filled with perfect rubbish. A vending machine dispenses a bilious looking green fluid which is probably the most refreshing drink on earth. Our host arrives bowing, and instinctively we bow back. Our bags disappear without our noticing, only to reappear later in our rooms.

It's a very cold day, but huge heaters warm the air outside the hotel. I order a green tea and put sugar in it. Our host gasps and sits back in amazement. "What's wrong?" I say. "Is it rude to do this?" "Oh no," he says, laughing, "just... unusual." Diplomatic incident over - respect shown. I think it's like putting milk and sugar in beer.

Awaking very early in the morning, I take a walk outside and realise that I'm being followed at a distance by a group of girls. After politely asking for autographs. They then pump me for information on our movements. There's obviously some kind of network here because during the course of our stay, the groups become crowds, very polite and apologetic but nonetheless, there, the whole time.

I despise the hard style of English malls, but here they seem more relaxing, 'soft' even. And although you look different, nobody seems to hate you for it. In the video games arcade, a disgruntled teenager spends a small fortune trying to get a very realistic image of a nubile schoolgirl to shed her clothes. Rover, one of the more hairy arsed roadies, regards touring Japan as something akin to a well-paid prison sentence, presumably, because he's heard that you can't get Watney's Red Barrel and chips here.

"This channel is pay TV. If you wish to continue viewing this programme, please press the button marked 'pay'," says the telly. I don't think I'll bother, the free clip involved a scantily-clad schoolgirl in a bar, kicking a giraffe. On the cartoon channel all the heroes have wide eyes. Perhaps we'll do well here. I think everything here is intensely symbolic in a way that will remain forever mysterious.

However, by accident, it may be possible to do things which key in with this symbolism and have some resonance. I don't think you should try too hard at this - it has to be something you are. Shampoo are huge here - apparently the colour pink is associated with Lolitas and, what with their gumchewing punkiness, they look like Manga cartoon heroines. It works... by accident.

As we arrive at the venue the entire street is lined with girls waving, screaming and pointing cameras into the van. I've always had a problem with the word 'fan', but here it seems apt; they really won't let us bow lower than them. An elevator takes us to the dressing room. Westerners have been here before, so every inch of wall space is covered in graffiti - something almost entirely absent from the rest of Japan. There is, uniquely, no obscene graffiti, that will have been removed. They have, however, respected the Western custom of no-hoper bands to forge a spurious immortality in this enclave - I wish they hadn't.

Due to technical problems we keep the fans waiting one-and-a-half hours in sub-zero temperatures. During the concert Jarvis apologises for this - no response. He apologises later, saying, "We meant no disrespect" - huge applause, by accident. I try on some new sunglasses which have beams of light at the sides to help me see the violin - very hi-tech, very popular.

Candida, with her love of plastic jewellery and ballet, seems to make more sense here than Courtney Love. Jarvis receives a huge electric-shock during the concert. I've seen him throw a fit for much less than-that, but tonight he shows... endurance. The one thing I really regret about getting big in England is that you don't really get to meet as many people.

They're either too in awe or too shy or too pushy. Here, despite the mayhem, it seems more comfortable. Apparently you get Americans, working with bands, coming here giving lots of attitude and generally laying down the law. This is counter-productive. If, by contradicting the Japanese, you cause loss of face on their part, this will not be to your advantage. So we play it their way and they seem to appreciate it. Not, I think, because they have won, but because we haven't embarrassed them.

I can see why the Yanks might get bolshy. The Japanese are even more efficient and give even better service and it all functions perfectly in a totally non-Western way. So what can we possibly have that they might want? I have a theory and it is based on very little knowledge: innovation is not something they excel at. Individualism is not a big deal here... Ergo they would perfect the best way of dragging things around but would not invent the wheel.

Musically this is evident, crap copyist bands abound. If a Western band could accidentally do something that made sense to them, it would probably seem intensely original - and exciting. With our wide-eyed love of the future and junk and style and toys and teendom and funfairs and pop and just-so-ness and colour and space and modernity in general, perhaps we can set a few little patterns off in their strange minds.

8am. Moved by the spirit to embrace all things Japanese, I decided to go for a traditional breakfast. I do not regret this, nor do I wish to repeat it. It entailed a formal ceremony conducted in silence. The most yummy thing by quite a long chalk was raw eel. I will draw a veil over the contents of the rest of the meal, other than to say that I dare not eat anything else the rest of the day lest the things I had eaten at breakfast gorge themselves and burst, Alien-like, out of my stomach. Nonetheless, I felt I had passed the kind of initiation ceremony which would entitle one to join a particularly sadistic religious cult. The Japanese will eat almost anything for breakfast, it seems, as long as it isn't food.

The scene at Osaka train station resembled the evacuation of Hanoi. Huge crowds bearing gifts, which we ended up carrying in our teeth, accompanied us to the bullet train which we entered as the whistle blew. We have our own carriage but are hemmed in at either end. One intrepid girl gets on at the next station to give us a gift, only to be ejected, without her bag. I think everyone feels a little shaky, it's rolling like a snowball now.

In Nagoya the venue is actually in the hotel, so it's pretty clear where we're going to be staying. Fans have to be ejected from the lifts so we can get to our rooms. I can't remember much about the concert, I think we gave a good show. I don't know what they made of the music, they seem to be equally enthusiastic about everything we do. What they make of the lyrics is anybody's guess. You sometimes see comical re-translations of the lyrics from the Japanese. I don't think it's so much that the words don't translate, it's the concepts.

After the concert we go to the hotel bar to have a drink with Rover and our host. The hotel has been cleared of fans. About ten girls, however, have taken the precaution of booking rooms in the hotel so they can't very well be cobbed out. Personally, I think any fan has the right to pester a pop star to a small extent. As long as they are being pleasant, it seems part of the deal that you sign autographs, have pictures taken and answer the odd question. Cumulatively, this can be very wearing, but then if you don't like it you can always go and work in a bank.

Some of the girls in the foyer gradually pluck up the courage to come into the bar and sit across the way, not making any nuisance of themselves at all. The women who work with us here instinctively seem to sit back from the tables to let the men get on with business. Earlier in the day someone had seen women asked to leave a table so men could talk business and - shock horror - it had been implied to Candida that she might be bored or offended at a meeting (You'll be glad to know she told them where to get off).

Meanwhile, the table next to us has become vacant and some of the fans come and sit at it. They aren't taking photos, they aren't giggling, they aren't being a nuisance. This seems to make our host very uncomfortable. They get shouted at to go away. This is very difficult. It appears to me that if they were male they wouldn't be treated this way. It seems rude and, well, disrespectful.

However, our host is treating us very well and it's not our country, we don't want to get into a row with him, and, worst of all, confront him and cause loss of face. We try to politely explain that we don't understand why this is necessary, that we don't need protecting and that, ultimately, it's the fans that pay all our wages. The worst thing is that the fans accept it meekly with a slight tear.

One of the hotel staff is now hovering around and looking concerned. It transpires that he is concerned that they may be underage drinkers. Those without ID are asked to leave. I must confess to being quite relieved by this; that they were being harassed because they were underage in a bar, not because they were women - fair enough.

So now, there are three or four left, over-age hotel residents. Our host, however, still seems very uncomfortable and the hotel employee even more so. It's all very odd. We're fair game at stations, hotel foyers, venues, where we get pestered to death, but here, where fans have been no trouble at all, they're made to feel like dirt... And it's just faintly possible, is it not, that they aren't even fans or that maybe they were staying here anyway and happen to know who we are - should they get sent to their rooms just because we arrived?

Well, obviously, they can't be, so we still have some kind of diplomatic incident here. Although it's almost midnight, our host suddenly decides that he's very hungry and wants to take us out for a meal. The hotel employee also thinks this is an excellent idea and will personally escort us to a place that we will like very much. We, who have not previously expressed any desire to eat a second evening meal, are encouraged to find ourselves hungry too!

With many smiles and gestures we are shepherded out of the bar into the bitter cold and through a labyrinth of winding streets. Our host is much happier now; little does he know that we know that he knows there's some kind of subtext going on.

Part two: Here.