#go back to the boots stuart

[liverralonee]

stu macher in the alternate shots of scream (the ones that would’ve gotten the movie an nc-17) you will forever be famous

also what the fuck are those shoes man 🤨

[crepesuzette2023]

That Klaus Voormann Interview where he says he might have been a better bass player for the Beatles than Paul

I got curious about this after reading this post about Klaus and Paul by @thewalrusespublicist. I saw that there was some interest in the interview in the comments, but that people hadn't been able to find it.

Original article (German) here (Süddeutsche Zeitung, 2010)

Quick & dirty translation into English by: moi

• Humor translates poorly, especially without audio. I tried my best, but can’t guarantee I captured the tone perfectly.

• Apologies for the n-slur in the quote from Klaus’s grandmother. I left it in because it illustrates Klaus’s background and the spirit of the times.

• Speaking of: context is important, so I decided to translate the whole thing.

• Klaus is 5 years older than Paul — I must have known this, but didn’t realize how it must have impacted their relationship in Hamburg before now.

• I wasn’t able to find other English translations, which is why I did this one, but if you know of any, or have done one: let me know and I will add a link. And sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore anyone’s work.

------

Klaus Voormann: I should explain something right away: I have a real problem with dyslexia.

SZaW: Reading the menu?

Voormann: I have to read it out loud. I have to hear it to understand it. If I say "Knoblauchspeck mit Hausbrot" out loud, it’s there right away, and I won’t forget it.

SZaW: Is it an artists’ affliction?

Voormann: I don’t know. But it caused many hang-ups and problems I’m still carrying around with me.

SZaW: Were the 1950’s that bad?

Voormann: It was bad for me in the sense that none of my teachers realized I was dyslexic. The teacher said, “read from the book,” and I wanted to disappear from the earth. Chemistry didn’t interest me, historical dates didn’t mean anything to me, but the teachers wanted to beat it into you.

SZaW: But then you quit school to go to Hamburg, where, in the autumn of 1960, you discovered an obscure band from Liverpool called “The Beatles.” You can’t have been twenty yet [he was 22], I believe George Harrison was only 17. Stupid question: What were they like?

Voormann: Loud. I heard this noise from a basement at the Reeperbahn, and followed it. It grabbed me right away, because this was music I could hear and see right there in Hamburg: not a disc, no radio, but real people playing! I was amazed by the momentum they unleashed with only three instruments.  

SZaW: And you just went to them?

Voormann: During the break, I went to them and introduced myself. They looked incredibly strange: Studded jackets, hair in a DA, the boots [with the fur, just kidding]. Back then, I worked as a graphic designer for Hörzu und Kristall, but I wanted to design record sleeves. John Lennon pointed me to Stuart Sutcliffe and said, “talk to him, he’s our artist.”

SZaW: You wouldn’t expect studded jacket music to appeal to a coddled boy from the Berlin upper class.

Voormann: According to my mother, it was boogie-woogie, “negro music,” from the jungle. But to me, the Beatles were a revelation, as if I’d suddenly learned to roller skate or race on a motorbike. Up to that point, there’s been jazz on the one side, classical music on the other. Suddenly, something fresh entered the scene. You could tell they didn’t speak for the elite, but for the simple people: the toilet cleaner getting off in the back [???], the pimp who thinks it’s hot, or a famous photographer who’s obsessed with it.

SZaW: Your family back home must have been pleased. Rumor has it your grandfather owned a whole district back in Berlin.  

Voormann: My grandfather basically owned all of Heiligensee. He had shares in oil companies and South African diamond mines. Unfortunately, I didn’t meet him. He died before the inflation of 1923.

SZaW: Lucky for him.

Voormann: That depends.

SZaW: So, all that money became worthless inflation-billions?

Voormann: As children, we were playing roulette with the bills.

SZaW: A pastime fitting your class.

Voormann: My grandmother used to go to Monte Carlo to gamble.

SZaW: With real money?

Voormann: Back then it was real. I would have loved to know my grandfather; he was a great guy. There are stories about him throwing gold coins in the air because he enjoyed the girls screaming and jumping, trying to catch them. He liked to go out, and he had other women. When he came home, he brought back a silver plate of oysters for my grandmother, his “little dove.” My grandmother got angry and kicked the plate out of his hand, and he said, “my little dove, I didn’t know oysters could fly.” Then they made up.

SZaW: It must have been a better world. Obviously, you diligently followed your piano lessons as a child.

Voormann: I played Chopin, performed in concerts, and I might have become a good pianist. But at the time, it felt too risky. My parents didn’t want it, and ultimately, I didn’t, either. And so, it was decided I should become a graphics designer.  

SZaW: Coming from this world, entering the sweaty cellars of Hamburg must have felt like a descent into hell.

Voormann: Of course. It wasn't a protest, per se, but I went away, went to art school in Hamburg, and broke free from my family bonds. This music thing wouldn’t leave me alone, this love came from the gut. The Beatles added the heart.

SZaW: The Hamburg Beatles were a five-piece band, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Stuart Sutcliffe and the drummer, Pete Best. Times must have been rough. Albert Goldmann writes in his biography that John killed a sailor on the Reeperbahn. And Stu Sutcliffe’s sister keeps saying Lennon killed her brother.

Voormann: Of course there were fights where Stuart got beaten up, not by John, but by blokes whose girlfriends liked Stuart.

SZaW: And Lennon was supposed to be a closet case, who had an affair with Stuart . . .

Voormann: Complete nonsense. The two of them knew each other since they went to school together in Liverpool, after all. I liked Stuart, too, and we, as guys, would hug each other from time to time. He was a charismatic artist, that was all. In my whole life, I never met anyone who saw and perceived as much as this little boy—no matter if it was a bird or the sound of a train.

SZaW: And why was this good-looking boy so ashamed on stage he stood with his back to the audience?

Voormann: He wasn’t ashamed of his looks; he was ashamed he didn’t know what he was doing on guitar. Not that rock’n’roll has a lot to do with actual music. "Tutti Frutti," for instance, has three repeating chords, and all the bass needs to play is the root note. Great musicianship isn’t part of it. For Stuart, it was difficult, because not only was he not a musician, he didn’t want to be one. Still, his love of rock’n’roll was enormous, and his charisma was on par with Elvis Presley. [KLAUS!!!!]

SZaW: Stuart was posing, whereas George Harrison practiced until his fingers bled.

Voormann: George had a very ambitious way to make licks his own. He couldn’t improvise chords on the spot like Eric Clapton; he had to craft them and put them together. If anyone fit the type of lead guitarist, it was Paul McCartney.

SZaW: Before he became the bassist, Paul played second guitar back in Hamburg.

Voormann: Most of the time. Later, in the "Top Ten" or in the "Star Club,” he also played the piano, simple stuff.

SZaW: Because rock'n'roll isn’t real music.

Voormann: Well, it isn’t.

SZaW: And yet, you wanted to play rock’n’roll at all costs?

Voormann: At some point, I bought Stuart Sutcliffe’s bass for 200 DM, because he wanted to paint. Later, I actually turned out to be a good bass player.

SZaW: because you spent a lot of time watching from the audience?

Voormann: I had the tools from my classical training, but I had no idea how to play on a stage. I played the songs I heard on the Reeperbahn at home, by myself.  

SZaW: Stu Sutcliffe couldn’t, and didn’t want to play. Did you want to take his place?

Voormann: Maybe. During their final show together, I went to John and said, “Well, John, would it be possible for me to play bass?” And he said, “Sorry, Klaus, Paul already bought a bass. He’s going to be our new bassist.”

SZaW: Close, but no cigar.

Voormann: Hm.

SZaW: You came close, but when world fame started, you weren’t on board. Is that a good way of putting it?

Voormann: Hm, yes it is.

SZaW: Do you regret it?

Voormann: It would be interesting to know what would have happened. They wouldn’t have been with four, but with five. Would it have worked? Would I have fit in? The Stones were a five-piece.  

SZaW: A six-piece, originally. They fired piano player Ian Stewart, because he wasn’t pretty enough.

Voormann: They certainly couldn't have accused me of that.

SZaW: Ex-Beatle Pete Best sometimes goes on revival tours, and still feels cheated.

Voormann: And if he lives to be a hundred years old: Pete Best is not a good drummer. He simply didn’t have the charisma for a band this powerful. Maybe I lacked that charisma, too, but it was Ringo who got things swinging.

SZaW: Like Pete Best, you narrowly missed your chance.

Voormann: If you look at the musical roots of the Beatles, I would have fit better, in some ways, than Paul.

SZaW: Ja?

Voormann: Many people will take this the wrong way if I'm saying it here, but I approach bass playing completely differently. I would have stood for something primitive, earthy. If I’d been in the band, I would have used my influence to push for more rhythm and blues.

SZaW: For the Hamburg cellar dwellers.

Voormann: I know that John could have been closer to these roots, that later came through in a few numbers. But from the moment they became Lennon-McCartney, that disappeared completely—"Please Please Me", "She Loves You", "Help" and everything. They took off towards a completely new style of music, and I probably would have been an obstacle.

SZaW: Unlike Paul McCartney, who seduces the camera with his puppy eyes in Let It Be.

Voormann: The charlatan.

SZaW: But important, because of the girls.

Voormann: Without Paul, Beatlemania wouldn’t have happened. Paul is an entertainer; he can handle an audience. Different from John, who wasn’t a front man.

SZaW: He could be very forward on the Hamburg stage, when he greeted the audience with "Sieg Heil!"

Voormann: He was joking.

SZaW: Nazi jokes.

Voormann: All of that was unprofessional stuff. Professionalism came from Paul.

SZaW: Is it true John and Paul brought the mop top haircut back from Paris?

Voormann: They were there, but still: Stuart had the hairstyle first.

SZaW: Who cut his hair?

Voormann: Astrid Kirchherr. But I don’t want to revisit that story, it’s so embarrassing.

SZaW: Why not? Hamburg’s only contribution to the world’s cultural heritage.

Voormann: I was the first to have his hair cut in this style by Astrid, and then the others wanted it, too.

SZaW: Where is Stu Sutcliffe’s bass guitar now?

Voormann: I needed money at some point, and had it auctioned off at Sotheby’s for thirty- or forty-thousand Mark. Stu’s sister bitched and complained, theft, etc., and that’s why I only got a couple of thousand Mark. I wish I could undo the sale. I would like to have the bass.

[myseungsunglove]

An S-Class Connection | Hhj

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader 

Warnings: language, smut, friends to lovers 

Word Count:  1.7k 

𖠫Summary: Seeing your best friend perform at the VMAs stirs some feelings in you that you had been pushing down for years. Upon congratulating Hyunjin on his award and amazing performance, the dynamic of your friend takes a sharp and unexpected turn into territory you were never expecting but gladly welcome. 

✎A/N✎: It’s been a hot minute since I wrote a full on smut piece. I have one with Seungmin out there called “The way you Make Me Feel” but it’s mild really. This one isn’t particularly spicy, but it is my first go at a sexual encounter in a fic in a long time. It’s also my first time writing Hyunjin so I hope it isn’t massively disappointing! Your feedback is always greatly appreciated. 

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© September 23, 2023 by mysweethannie」

✘MDNI✘

Smut Warnings: Fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (stay safe, homies), creampie

The moment his eyes meet yours from the stage, you feel your feelings fundamentally shift in a way you aren’t going to be able to stuff back into a box or a closet or wherever else they had been previously hiding. 

The S-Class performance ends and you are escorted backstage as the crowd roars its appreciation for Stray Kids. You are so proud of them getting to perform at the VMAs. But at the current moment that accomplishment is secondary to whatever the feeling is that is stirring inside of you. 

You haven’t seen the boys since you had departed from your hotel in the morning to get ready for the evening at the VMAs. You had separate presser events to get to yourself and those didn’t align with their schedules. You’d been with Hyunjin when he got his haircut the day before, but the stylist had done a next level job with his hair tonight. The tight undercut, the short ponytail pulled up in the middle of his head. The strands of hair that fall perfectly on his forehead, framing his intense stare in a way that have your insides burning with desire. Something you had not felt, or at least not acknowledged you felt, about your best friend before. 

You round a corner backstage and see the boys thanking their backup dancers. Their smiles and energy are both contagious. Then you spot Hyunjin and it feels like all the air is punched from your lungs. As if he feels your presence, he turns around and once again his eyes fall on you. The look in his eyes is something you’d not seen before, and it makes your stomach twist into knots, the heat of his gaze making your legs tremble slightly. 

He slowly moves toward you, his eyes raking over your form and you suddenly look down at yourself, taking in your appearance. You are in a skin tight black dress that hugs your curves, showing off your small waist and making your hips look delectable. The dress is short, barely covering your ass, coming to rest just below it on your thick thighs. You are wearing a pair of Black Highland Stuart Weiztman boots that came up thigh high and accentuate your leg’s best features and a simple black garter visible on your left thigh.  

“Damn,” Hyunjin breathes once he is within earshot. His large hands rest on your hips, pulling you into his. You can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes you. “You look fucking incredible,” he adds. You hardly register the compliment because his fingers are dancing along your hips as he rubs them gently. 

“Y/n?” Hyunjin questions when you don't respond. “Anyone alive in there?” he jokes, gently tapping his knuckles against your temple. 

This brings you back to reality. 

“Me? look good?” you scoff incredulously. “Have you seen yourself?” you ask. “Your hair alone would be enough to part legs like the Red Sea.” The words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you, his hands on your waist, pulling you into him so that he can whisper in your ear. 

“And what about your legs? Would the hair work on them too?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin causing goosebumps to rise up on your neck. 

You pull back from him with a start, looking at his face to read his expression. Your eyes search his for any sign that he may be joking or looking to get a rise from you. You are met with a look that says he would devour you right there in front of everyone if he could. 

You swallow thickly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you take a step off a cliff you know you won’t be able to take back once you utter the words. You place your hands on the base of his head, your fingers dancing along the undercut, eliciting a shiver from him. 

“Most definitely,” you finally respond, your voice breathy and desperate. 

You barely have the chance to get the words out before his plush lips are pressed against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth insistently like he was in fact trying to devour you. His large hands are sprawled across the expanse of your back, pressing you tightly against him as he kisses you breathless. 

Just when you start to feel a little lightheaded, you break apart both of you heaving in heavy breaths. 

“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing your hand and dragging you down the hall away from the prying eyes of the others and all of the people attending the awards show. 

“Fuck,” you whisper as he pulls you into a dressing room, closing the door and pushing you up against it, this time his perfect pink lips finding a home on your neck and sucking a mark there. 

“I’ve wanted this for,” he kisses your neck and moves along your jawline. “For so fucking long. You have no idea,” he admits before kissing you hard. His hands are groping your ass, squeezing hard as he presses you against himself. One of your legs is wrapped around his hip, making your core come in contact with his hard length. He groans against your lips at the contact, his hand moving to push your dress up over your hips, exposing the small black thong you are wearing. “I could make you feel so good,” he teases, his fingers running over your barely clothed core. “Do you want that?” 

You nod frantically. 

“Your words, baby,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. 

“Fuck me, Hyunjin,” you beg, your lips leaving a trail of wet kisses along his jawline as your fingers continue to dance lightly along his freshly shaved hairline at the nape of his neck.Your lips meet again. He bites your lip and you can’t help but gasp. He pushes aside your thong, his long middle finger running between your folds, gathering the wetness that has gathered there. He circles your clit a time or two, causing you to moan out against his neck as he moves to enter you with his long finger. You hold tightly to his neck, your mouth hanging open as you fuck your self first on one finger, then two as he works to open you up. 

“Need. Fuck.” the words are punched out of you as your hands move to his pants, trying desperately to push them away from his hips as his fingers continue their assault on your wet cunt. “Need you inside of me.” 

“I am inside of you,” he teases. 

Your hips still as you successfully push his pants over his hips, his long, hard cock springing free against your leg. You wrap your hand around his length and stroke him gently. 

“I need this,” you whine, your hand holding him firmly, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

Immediately his fingers leave your sopping hole as he grabs his cock, running the head against your wet folds and tapping it roughly against your clit, causing you to shiver. He lines himself up with your hole and presses the head of his cock into you, looking into your eyes and he pushes deeper into you. 

“Shit,” you groan, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as your warm walls welcome him in. 

He bottoms out, his pelvis pressed firmly against your pussy as he picks your legs up off the ground and wraps them around his waist. This causes his cock to hit that sweet spot inside of you, an involuntary moan spilling for your lips. He kisses you then, and this kiss is wet and dirty, desperate. It is all teeth and tongue as he pulls his hips away from yours, only to push back into you. He wastes no time repeating the movement, pulling his cock out to the head only to shove it back in as quickly as it left your aching cunt. 

“You’re so fucking tight. Absolutely perfect for me,” he praises against your lips, and that causes your pussy walls to clinch around his hard member. “Shit,” he gaspes, feeling you grip him tight. 

His hips begin to piston harder and he pushes back into you, shoving your back up the door a little bit from the force of the blow. He keeps his pelvis pressed against you as he pounds his cock into you relentlessly. You can feel every delicious inch of him, his veins brushing along your walls causing you to clench around him.  

“Fuck,” you moan. “I’m gonna come,” you warn. “Come inside me.” Your words were tumbling out of your mouth again as if you had no control over them whatsoever. “Please,” you beg, squeezing your walls against him as his thrusts became more erratic. 

“You’d like that, yeah?” he asks, one of his hands moving between you, his fingers moving in circles around your clit. His forehead is pressed into yours, his breath fanning across your lips as he speaks. “I’m gonna fill you up so good baby,” he promises, suddenly pressing his fingers hard against your clit as hips stutter against your pelvis, the head of his cock nailing your g-spot. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin moans desperately, his movements stilling as he suddenly comes, spilling into you ropes of hot, white ecstasy. He is still twitching inside you when you come hard, your legs squeezing around his body as your own body quakes from the pleasure of your release. His lips find yours again as he helps you ride out the high. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe against his lips once your body stops shaking against his. “I can’t believe we just did that,” you voice aloud. 

“But I’m sure as hell glad we did,” he said, kissing you hard and pressing his body against yours once more. 

“Me too,” you agree. “That better not be the last time either,” you add. 

He smiles against your lips then and chuckles softly. 

“I’m never getting enough of this now that you’ve given it to me,” he admits, his voice low. “I’m yours, baby,” he says, kissing you tenderly. 

It is at that moment you realize what the feeling you had felt earlier in the night was. You had fallen in love with your best friend. It only took him fucking you in a dressing room at an awards show for you to figure it out. 

There were worse ways to come to that conclusion, you think to yourself, thankful that no matter where or how it happened that it did. Things will definitely never be the same between you, but in the best way possible.

[foundfam2754]

S17e8 live reactions!

Spoilers…obviously

- lol I could not see anything in that first scene

- is he…Stuart?

- GS-1??

- okay gruesome scene but soundtrack killing it

- lol Luke’s face ‘I’m not getting close to that’

- luke, come on, you know that in the BAU universe, ‘friends’ really means ‘lovers’

- damn this is so fucking funny

- “oh, yeah” / “sorry…no?” HAHA that’s so fucking funny

- Aw is Rossi crying? :(

- “I could never get it right with anybody” :(

- lol wouldn’t the team have seen this animosity at Gideon’s funeral? they were both there, I assume?

- REBECCA?!?

- “his office” lmao I love these lil Tyler moments

- bff and boyf moments!!

- I said it once and I’ll say it again - S17 is really impressing me with the mystery

- Tyler’s getting paid??

- aww, it’s Kai!

- pen’s outfits this season are killing it!

- why ….. don’t they bring the files back to the BAU?? Is a he not safer there?

- Luke’s outfit is 💯 💯

- Luke’s the one that made it sexy though…right?? Right?

- Tyler’s so fucking hot man

- I love this duo!

- I LOVE this duo.

- Jill is the only one who has light in her house

- was she wearing leather boots without socks?? girl, no

- okay I know they’re gonna kiss bc I have seen the posts / scrolled thru tumblr but god damn I really don’t want to see it - why does it feel like it’s gonna happen soon

- WHAT? He didn’t go to the funeral??

- aw man they’re gonna make out aren’t they

- damn, girl JUMPED on him

- GROSS

- Penelope knows that when JJ and Luke go somewhere they’re in danger - she’s one of us

- why did they not give her protective custody god damn

- emily when she has to deal with her employees kissing witnesses/consultants to huge cases 🤬

- dang, Jill is smart as fuck

- WAIT IT’S THE CABIN

- THEY DID WHAT

- she kinda reminds me of Maura Isles

- she convinced him of something he’s believed for so long in like…5 mins??

- never thought I’d say this, but poor poor damian :(

- oh god is he going to die??

- NO!! I KNEW IT

- SUCH A GOOD EPISODE

[sinning-23]

Publicity (Introduction)

Gorillaz 2D/Stuart Pot x Music!Artist!Reader

Warnings; language

A/N: Alright so I’ve gonna back to one of my old hyper fixations and was distraught by the lack of Gorillaz content(damn me for not the best writer and a damn child back 2009🥲😂)

ANYWAY! I might crack out a few of these while I’m still obsessed with it (I made a FAWKING oc and everything-) I also might make this a multi-part cause every fanfic I found was from 3-6 years ago and unfinished lol

PS> Bear with me sometimes i like writting the accents in and sometimes if drives me insane-

ENJOY!

Link to Publicity Pt.1

Being a singer, songwriter, and all-around musical artist was a lot harder to accomplish than people gave you credit for. Demands were all you'd grown used to from fans and your record label as you had gone on a 5-year hiatus.

Scrolling away on your phone you sigh, at an influx of fan emails, comments, likes, and shares on each platform your social celebrity presence graced.

However one in particular had caught your eye...well ear more accurately. Tik tok was one of your favorite pastimes, and on this specific post, \ there was someone mashing together two songs. One of your own, and one from a separate band You immediately fly to the comments, taking in the nice, familiar melody as your vocals come in paired with the lead singer.

-Holy shit this is actually really good -Wait this eatttsss -someone tag her in the comments i NEED them to -collab like yesterday- reply: yeah if she ever hops her ass outta retirement- WE MISS YOU QUEEN reply: honestly i dont see this hype this mashup kinda ass -Gorillaz x Y/n Collab whennn???

You chuckle, scrolling past comments as you note the artists. Huh, when was the last time you'd heard from Gorillaz? Last you heard they were on hiatus far longer than you had been and-

Wait....

Taking a breath you press the record icon, fluffing your hair and testing a 'glamour' filter before filming. And right as you posted, the glorious internet we WILD.

-Somewhere in Los Angeles-

"Check this out," Noodle smiles, turning her phone screen to the two gentlemen before her.

"Oh, that's that one girl uhhh, Y/n?" Russel confirms as Noodle nods, your stitch of the video playing amongst their conversation.

"If we get this all the way to the UK...I'll collaborate with Gorillaz to commemorate the end of our hiatus. That is if they are accepting of my invitation!" You challenge, with a smile.

"Ah, we don't need to do all tha'" Murdoc grumbles, plopping into the seat before kicking his boots up on the table. No decorum.

"What're you talking about? You know how cool that would be?" Noodle is already convinced, turning the phone back to the group.

Despite the bickering, 2D's eyes are glued to the screen. Pretty girl from the States. Her hair was wow...and that smile? The way she lowkey called them out for being gone but also herself...the confidence to request a collab?

"Noodle's got a point. We could add her to the new album before it drops." Russel includes, a smile already over his features

2 outta four convinced

"Y'know how expensive collabs are? You runnin' my pockets into the groun' " Murdoc grumbles again, glancing back down at the screen as the video loops.

He presses the stitch icon to watch the original before folding his arms over his chest in thought.

" Think we should 'ave a go at it? I mean, she invited us?" 2D finally pipes up, gaining his bandmates' attention.

Murdoc's been overrulled with a whopping 3 outta 4.

"Oh you would wan' to collab you dog-" Murdoc scoffs, despite being one to talk.

That man probably had more illegitimate children than there were stars on the flag- 2D opens his mouth to bicker and respond back but Noodle beats him to it.

"Well, we don't have a choice because I already contacted her team." Noodle interrupts, flashing the email.

"Since when the hell 'ave you had control over media and collabs?!" Murdoc shrieks

-Meanwhile-

You'd gone from vanished to trending in a matter of minutes. People in your comments were thriving off the fact that their favorite artist/artists would possibly be coming out of their hiatus over some silly mash-up! It didn't take long for word to spread from the States all the way to the UK because, within 2-3 hours, you received an email.

It was fairly simple and friendly acceptance to your collab invitation...something you knew was a possibility but, fuck it was happening now!?

Apparently, the Gorillaz guitarist, Noodle, said the whole band had seen your video and were wondering if you were serious about a collab. The combination of your talents would surely kickstart your careers once again and besides, what kind of celebrities would you be if you didn't give the people wanted?

Good fuckin music.

You pause for a moment, thinking this could easily be a scam, but upon further examination (and a brief chat with your media team who hadn't approved your video at all (yeah they were pissy about it)) you were sure you had the right people.

According to your coordinators, you’d been booked to fly out to LA within a day! Fuck things were happening fast and the sudden dread from 5 years prior managed to worm its way into your chest, sinking further into your stomach.

Shit.

Shit this was actually happening

SHIT!

You stand from your bed, now pacing as your breath quickens. When was the last time you wrote a song?! Hell, when was the last time you touched a fucking keyboard, or a microphone, or a fucking synthesizer?! When was the last time you'd opened your lyric book?

You scramble, thinking of the next best thing to distract yourself but the notion was cut short when your phone rang. With a deep breath, you answer, the fate time call immediately revealing a woman with dark, black hair and large round 3D-esque glasses. She has this huge smile on her face and faint bickering can be heard in her background.

You both speak,

"Hi!"

"Helloo!"

The two of you giggle and the woman who you soon learned to be THE Noodle who had contacted you prior, was wondering about your travel dates.

"You'll be headed this way in a day or two?" She confirms as you nod.

"So soon I know but, good to get started while the creative juices are still flowing. It's an honor to be able to work with such talented artists like yourselves." You compliment, hearing a gruff, more rugged voice call out,

"She's a nice one in' she? All in the day's work darling all in the day's work-" in the back before swiftly being cut off.

"We can't wait to have you! I'm sure we can all come up with something together, you've got quite the skillset." Noodle compliments back, the bond between girls only growing by the minute.

The two of you would get along just fine.

The conversation didn't last much longer though, because your team works damn near fast as the speed of light. Before you knew it you were being escorted onto a plane with a nice first class seat on its way back to your home state. With the occasional photo and autograph, the airport went a lot smoother than usual.

Once the plane had taken off, your 6 hour flight was filled with the very band you'd be collaborating with. From the discography to lore, history, and drama, you were determined to know as much about these guys as you could...

-6 grueling flight hours later-

It had been a while since you'd been home. The salty sea air of LA warms you to your core and the sun paints the sky a vibrant blue. Your luggage is carted away and just as you manage to shuffle past fans down an escalator. There, someone with a sign is already waiting for you.

Scribbled in chicken scratch damn near is your name on a large white sign. Holding said sign is a lanky-looking guy, hair bright blue and eyes black as night.

Part of you considers walking past him and pretending you dont know who it is, but your stupid 6 hour research journey told you everything you needed to know. Besides, your heart knew that would be quite rude to ignore the lead singer going out of his way to grab you from the busy airport.

Don't they have people for that though? To transport celebrities without making a fuss? This guy might as well be walking around with a target on him with his rather defining features. And what's up with that sign?! Isn't the whole point to avoid attention and a swarm of fans???

"Hi! I'm uhh, assuming you're-"

"Oh my god is that 2D!? AND Y/N?!?! She was serious, oh my god look!"

The speed at which your head moves to the direction of the sound ought to have given you whiplash. A swarm of people began to grow, and the flash of cameras and video surrounded the two of you as your heart raced. This is why you hire people for this shit.

A sea of fans demand autographs and pictures as they closed in, each of them asking different questions faster than you can process them

"Are you happy to be back in LA?"

"Over here Please can I get a picture!"

"Is there a reason you two are here alone?"

It's hot, the breath of now hundreds circling as your stomach turns, each poke and taunt making it harder to breathe as the airport terminal spins. Fuck you needed to get out. NOW.

"Why isn't the rest of Gorillaz here?"

"Are you nervous about your new song?"

"What happened at your last show?"

"Why did you run away y/n?"

Turning almost comically, your eyes narrow, sweat beaded and falling down the side of your face.

"What?"

You're soon being dragged, the one faceless figure in the crowd not bothering to follow the swarm as they rush after you and the blue-ette. Speaking of which, that was who was dragging you now, trying to run away from feral fans.

His fingers are long and cold against the skin of your wrist as he tries to navigate not only out the airport but also away from the swarm that is slowly dispersing.

So, this was the man behind those gorgeous vocals? You couldn't help but recall the entirety of their discography, that echo, something so unique about his sound. Like a distant, melancholic megaphone.

But when he opened his mouth-

"Murdoc 'ad me come pick you up! I-" You can't help the sound that comes out of your mouth. It's like a mix of complete shock and your face is about the same. You had no idea what you were expecting. The accent was a given, duh. But, there was no way that was his voice?! How could you have missed this in your research???

"Y'ok miss? Look like y' seen a ghost?" He asks again, his voice snapping you back to reality.

Oh that was 100% his voice, he was NOT fucking with you. And this was gonna be a long car ride.

Author's Note: OKAYYY so im gonna make some more parts this is definitely gonna have some smut and hopefully while I on winter break I can update my masterlist- Ayway see yall next chapter, yes I know this is cringe but I am free lmao

[inner-visionz]

Sherbert (2d x autistic transboy reader)

Warning: drug use, drug addiction, blood, drug mention. Plz don't read if your under 16/17

Chapter 1

I must be the master of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I just moved here not that long ago and this is the second time I've seen a car crash right in front of me. I just want to see my dealer so I can get a few joints and go home, but I see a blue haired boy fly out of the wind shield and smack his head on the curb with a disturbing thud. I hear glass cracking underneath my boots as I run towards him. I don't know what I'm gonna do when I get to him, I'm not in the medical field but my body just instantly reacted. 

I kneel down by his head while trying to avoid shards of glass to study his injuries. It doesn't take me long to notice that he's the same boy I saw in the first crash when they put him in an ambulance. His face has bruises and cuts in a few spots and blood is flowing from his closed eyes. I hear a soft groan come from him so I put his head in my lap to give him a bit of comfort. I'm sure his head is splitting right now. I can't believe I've watched this man completely eat shit twice. He has his lips slightly parted so I can see that he's missing two front teeth. Poor man has been through hell. 

I gently put my hand on his cheek and rub his face with my thumb. He softly groans then slowly starts to open his eyes. My eyes widen in horror as I see two black voids staring up at me. 

"Wow", he mutters with a small smile.

"Dude, are you okay?" I ask in a panicked voice. 

He winces in pain as he wakes up more and starts to feel the effects of going face first into a curb. "Me head hurts..a lot, but your hands and thighs makes it feel better". 

IS THIS DENSE MOTHER FUCKER TRYING TO FLIRT WITH ME AFTER BENG THROWN OUT OF A CAR? 

I roll my eyes. "Maybe I should've just kept walking..anyway let's clean you up a bit yeah? Ya boats a mess". I don't know where the accent or slang came from. All I hear is the accent all day and I do tend to copy unintentionally. I take off my coffin shaped backpack and pull out some wet wipes then start to wipe the blood off his face. 

He tries to chuckle at my horrible accent. "Hey I was being sincere OUCH". He flinches in pain. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to", I apologize. I finish up wiping his face and my hand that I had cupped on his cheek. "Can you stand up? You need to go to the hospital". 

He relaxes a bit and slowly nods. The black eyed man tries to find his feet and stands up slowly. I put everything back in my bag and put it on my back. I stand up and look over him again. I realize I come up to his forehead in my platform boots but without them I'd probably come up to his chin. He stumbles a bit so I hold onto him as support. 

"YOU TWO ARE PERFECT!" I hear an excited and raspy voice call out to us. I look in the direction it came from and see an excited green man jump out of the wrecked car. I immediately take notice of his messed up nose and the upside down cross necklace that bounces around his neck as he comes towards us. I recognize him as the other person involved in the first crash. "Two tall and edgy people as my lead singers? Not to mention a black eyed God, the girls are gonna go crazy for him, ah your name should be 2D because you've got two dents in your head, much better than Stuart". He continues to ramble. 

The busted up man starts to stumble more against me so I sit him back down and turn my attention towards the other one. "You fucking idiot, you put this man through two serious car accidents and look at his face! What the hell are you going on about a band? He needs to see a doctor!". 

He scoffs, "Oh he's fine, look at him!" He motions towards Stuart who's wobbling even though he's sitting down cradling his head in his hands. 

I grab the man by his shirt collar and pull him to me. "Listen here you blithering cunt, you're taking him to the hospital NOW!" I yell. 

"Oi are you single by chance?" He gives me a gross chuckle, but I ignore his question. 

"NOW!"

He holds his hands up to surrender. "Fine, fine! Whatever you say". He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone to call an ambulance. I let him go and let out an angry sigh as I walk over to Stuart. 

I kneel down in front of him and place my hand on his knee. "Hey we have an ambulance coming for you soon okay?" I say gently. 

He looks up at me with pain written all over his face. "Are..you coming with me?" He asks rather pathetically. In fact it's so pathetic I can't say no.

"Yeah, I'll come with you, my name is y/n by the way". 

"Mine is Stuart, but 2D sounds really cool too". 

—-------

At the hospital I found out the green man's name is Murdoc. He kept trying to convince me to join his band but I always protested. 

"Come on lass! Who doesn't want to be in a band?" He pleads.

"I'm not a lass", I inform him and cross my arms. 

Murdoc eyes me up and down with a questioning look, but he lets it go. "Whatever, who am I to judge, but that wasn't a no". 

I sigh in defeat. "Look I'll think about it, will that get you off my ass?" 

Murdoc beams with happiness. "I'll take it!" 

I scoff and go in to check on Stuart. The doctor said he looks okay but they wanted to keep him a bit longer to be sure. They said his eyes will stay that way forever and they gave him some pain meds for his head. Upon entering the room I notice a girl sitting beside him with choppy dark brown hair, thin eyebrows, and red lipstick on. I must have missed her when I was bickering with Murdoc. She notices me and gives me a 'what the hell are you doing here' look. I immediately know from this look that she's the girlfriend. Whatever, I'm not exactly interested in dating at the moment. 

I walk over to stand beside Stuart's bed.  "You feeling any better now?" I ask. 

"Yeah they gave me some painkillers so I'm feeling great now", he smiles at me. "Oh! Paula this is y/n she's the one that helped take care of me when we crashed". 

"He. I'm a boy", I say bluntly as I wait anxiously for their reaction. 

"Oh, you don't look like a-"

"I'm trans let's move on", I cut him off. 

He scratches his head in confusion. "Right, uh he's the one that took care of me". I'm pleasantly surprised at his quick fix to my pronouns. Both of the boys had a better reaction than I expected. They both get an extra 20 points for not being bigots in my book. 

Paula rolls her eyes. "Well whatever you call yourself, I'm his girlfriend so you can leave him to me now". 

I frown a bit in confusion at the sudden rudeness, but I'm not about to argue so I just step out and join Murdoc in the waiting room. He's the last person I want company with but I want to stick around until Stuart gets discharged. Although his girlfriend is here so I guess I could just leave him to grab my stuff and go home. I mentally sigh remembering that he asked me to come with him so no I can't just leave, but I could step out and come back. 

"Hey, I'm gonna step out for a bit. Can I see your phone so I can give you my number?" I ask Murdoc. 

"Of course I'd love to have your number", he winks at me then hands me his phone. I take his phone and put in my number then set my name as 'y/n (back up singer). I send myself a text so I'd have his number then toss his phone back. 

"Text me updates on Stuart and if he asks for me tell him I'll be back", I say as I turn my back to leave. 

"Hey wait does this mean you're in?!" He asks when he takes notice of my name in his phone. 

"Maybe" I say on my way out the door. 

—-----

I make it back to the hospital an hour and a half later after visiting my dealer. I always shove my joints or bag in a zipper pocket I made on the inside of my boots. It's a decent hiding place. 

I waltz back to the waiting room and sit beside Murdoc. "Hey, 'ow's Stuart doing?" Damn the accent came out again. Murdoc looks at me funny then gets really close to my face. Crap he knows and I can't keep a straight face when I'm buzzed. He stares intensely at me which makes me give a big goofy grin. 

He smirks. "Oh you're completely mullered aren't you?" He whispers. 

"Not completely just wee bit buzzed". 

"At least you know how to party, also your accent was terrible". He chuckles. 

"I know..it happens unintentionally, I swear I don't mean to". I ramble. 

Murdoc laughs and ruffles up my hair. "Don't get your knickers in a twist luv, it's alright". I flinch at his touch and move his hand off my head before I got used to the feeling. "Oh? Not a touchy person?" 

"No I am, it's just I'm not used to getting physical affection anymore". I look at the ground awkwardly. "Anyway, is Paula still here? I'd like to check on Stuart". 

"No, she left a bit before you came back", He answers. I nod then walk to Stuart's. I lean against the door frame as I watch him hold a hand held mirror to inspect his new facial features.

"Yeah, they're a bit off putting aren't they?" I state. 

He jumps so bad he almost drops the mirror then snaps his head towards me. "Oh, it's you," he chuckles nervously, "I think they're cool looking, and sorry about Paula earlier". 

I shrug. "It's fine, I don't care that much. She was probably just stressed because her boyfriend is in the hospital, I'd be snappy too", I reassure him with a smile. 

He smiles back at me slightly showing off his two missing teeth. It was cute in a dorky way. "Yeah probably, so Murdoc told me he convinced you to join the band?" 

"He was very convincing when it's all he'd talk about for an hour straight, besides I guess it could be fun". 

—------

About an hour later Stuart got discharged and I invited them to my flat because it wasn't far from the hospital. Stuart looked exhausted and I didn't trust that Murdoc would have a decent place for him to sleep. 

I bring them both inside then show Stuart to my bedroom. I flick on my black light to illuminate my room so Stuart could see where he's walking. My posters and my neon worm on a string wall decorations light up immediately, giving more color to the room. He takes notice of my bed half full of stuffed animals. 

"Never thought you'd have so many cute things based on how dark you dress". He states.��

"Can't be a hard ass all the time", I say as I go over to the bed and move an old, but well taken care of, light multicolored bunny stuffy from the empty side of the bed. I put it on the other side with the rest of the stuffies while making sure it was in a comfortable position. Stuart sits on the other side of the bed once the bunny is moved. I see him give me a gentle smile from the corner of my eye. He reaches out to touch it but I stop him. 

"Please don't touch him", I mumble. 

"I wasn't gonna move..him..I just wanted to see how it felt"

"I get it but please don't, look I'm autistic and that's my comfort item which means nobody is allowed to touch it", I say. 

He gives me a very confused look. "Man you got a shit pick of the draw didn't you? With you being trans and autistic I'd imagine you don't have too many friends". 

My face drops and I look away from him as I awkwardly rub my arm. 

He notices my changed mood and quickly tries to explain himself. "Oh no I just meant that people around here can be dicks. I'm sorry. Um hey my hair grows out blue and now I have no eyeballs or two front teeth so I guess I also got the shit pick so maybe we could be friends?" He rambles. 

I chuckle at his awkward attempt at making me feel better. "Yeah I'd like to be friends...you can feel his ear if you want to". 

"Are you sure?" 

I nod. "You didn't bat an eye when I said I was trans or autistic and you listened when I said dont touch him, so I think I can trust you". 

He smiles then gently puts a long floppy ear between his fingers and rubs the fabric. "He's very soft. I can see why he's comforting, does he have a name?" He asks. The fact that he calls the bunny 'he' and not 'it' makes me a bit more fond of him.

"Sherbert", I mumble a bit embarrassed. 

Stuart chuckles, "That's cute, so you mentioned that I listened to you and that's why you trust me, did other people not listen?" 

"Yeah, I've had three people over and they all purposely picked him up and moved him or pushed him on the floor. They wanted to get a reaction out of me and well they did but it wasn't what they wanted. I busted their faces then dragged them out of my flat, THEN I cried". 

He half smiles at me,"I promise I'd never be mean to Sherbert", he says softly like he's trying to comfort me. 

"Stuart I can't tell if you're being genuine or if you're secretly making fun of me" I say bluntly. 

"I don't want to break your trust luv, it's genuine and if I break that promise you can make me eat a curb again". 

I can't help but laugh. "I'll hold you to it, well I should let you get some sleep, I'll turn off the light so it doesn’t mess with your head". 

He takes one last look around and smiles warmly. "Yeah, thank you for everything today," 

"No problem, goodnight Stuart", I turn off the light and close the door behind me. I go to the living room and find Murdoc examining all of my bat and coffin decor. I take off my boots and get the joints out then I stand on the arm of my couch so I can reach the top of my bookshelf. 

"Ah so you dabble a bit too huh?" I turn my head to see Murdoc talking about my altar that has crystals, candles, a couple crystal pendulums, my tarot deck and a Loki statue. 

"Oh yeah I do some witchcraft", I say as I grab my little metal tin and put all of the joints but one in then put it back. I take off my backpack to grab my red Nokia and cigarettes then place them with the joint on the bay window. 

"Who's the statue of?" He asks. 

"That's Loki he's the god I work with slash worship", I inform him as I open up the side window and sit on the bay window. I light a cigarette and blow the smoke out. "Speaking of which, can you light his candle for me? It's the red one right in front of the statue, there's a lighter right beside it too". 

Murdoc scans my altar real quick before he finds the lighter and tries to light it. He tries to light it a few times but all that comes out is sparks. 

He starts to get frustrated, "Oi I think your lighter is dead". He says. 

I take a drag of my cigarette and shake my head as I go to him. "No that's not the problem," I put the cigarette in my mouth then take the lighter from Murdoc and light it with ease. I light the candle then smirk. "I'm so sorry I dared have someone else light your candle you fussy thing". I watch the flame get bigger and wiggle around then smile. 

"Let me see that lighter again".

I hand it to him and he lights it on the first try. "This is shit".

I chuckle and go back to where I was sitting. "He didn't want you to light his candle, I bought that lighter yesterday so I knew what the issue was", I say as I grab my phone and add Murdoc to my contacts. 

He rolls his eyes. "I guess he is a fussy thing", he mumbles then comes to me and pulls out his own pack of cigarettes, "Care if I join you?". 

I shake my head as I take a drag. "Open the other corner window and take a seat, blow your smoke out the window though. I don't want my place smelling like smoke".  

He nods and opens the window then takes a seat opposite of me. He puts a cigarette in his mouth and tries to light it but his lighter won't light. "You gotta be fucking me UGH". 

I laugh. "I guess Loki didn't like it when you called him fussy". 

"YOU called him fussy!" 

"I'm allowed to, that's how we joke", I chuckle. "Here use mine". I slide my lighter to him.

"Thanks", he says in an aggravated tone and finally lights his cigarette. "You better not make freaky shit happen when I get the band all put together", he slides my lighter back to me and takes a hit. 

"Don't fuck with me and it shouldn't be a problem", I chuckle. 

"Right", he says. 

We sit there in silence as we finish our cigarettes. 

"I was going to offer you a smoke with me after I got done smoking but I'm tired", I say as I put my cigarette out in the ashtray. 

Murdoc does the same. "Yeah I'm pretty tired myself. I'm gonna grab 2D and we'll be out", he says as he stands up and closes the window. 

"He's okay you can leave him", I say as I close mine then put away the joint I left out with the others. 

"Are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

"Yeah I trust him". 

"But you don't trust me to spend the night?" Murdoc asks.

I narrow my eyebrows at him. "I want you to look at Stuart's non-existent eyes and ask me that again". 

He scoffs. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this". He says as he makes his way out the door. 

I sigh in relief to finally have some alone time. However, I decide to enjoy it by falling asleep on the couch. 

[its-all-ineffable]

This looks fun, here we go! Thanks for the tag @fandomsmeantheworldtome!

My top ten characters of 2023 (2023 Character Wrap)

Alex Claremont-Diaz, Red, White & Royal Blue: Listen, who couldn't love Alex? Both book and movie him are treasures but I'm mainly focusing on movie Alex. Like...who said he was allowed to be that pretty?! He's so aesthetically pleasing it's almost annoying. I love him very much.

Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor(Hanover-Stuart-Fox), Red, White & Royal Blue: You can't have one without the other! Henry is just so precious to me, book and movie Henry both. But movie Henry's pathetic wet cat energy has capitivated me. What can I say, I love big sad eyes. He's babygirl.

Nick Nelson, Heartstopper: Listen...listen. I love 'em all. I do! The main group of this show are all my children, and I adore them. Charlie and Tara a lil' bit more. But Nick has a special place in my heart that I can't explain. I love him so much.

Jesper Fahey, Shadow & Bone/Six of Crows: I only got into the show and books this year (yes I'm devastated it's gone), but they're both soooo good! And Jesper is just the best, like, he's so funny and complex and badass. I love him very much.

Wylan Hendriks, Shadow & Bone/Six of Crows: They're cutie pies, book and show Wylan. They're also dangerous badasses and sassy to boot. I love them both, but I fell in love with show Wylan first and honestly, I'll never look back. How can I.

15th Doctor, Doctor Who: So far we have had about 20 minutes of the 15th Doctor, and I am already in love with them. IN LOVE. I just...I am so ready for their series, and I can't WAIT for the Christmas special!

Muriel, Good Omens: How could anyone hate this bean?! Honestly a fantastic addition to the cast of characters in this show, and definitely a breakout star to me! I hope Muriel returns for season 3 because they truly were a delight, anytime they were on screen.

Jaskier, The Witcher: In it's last season (to me), The Witcher finally decided to give Jaskier the respect he deserves. As always, his songs were fantastic and his character being in it prompted me to watch spin-off Blood Origin (which I loved!). Jaskier has been my character since I began watching The Witcher, and he remains my character.

Eddie Kaspbrak, IT franchise: Fell deep back into my IT hyperfixation and actaully managed to write loads of my fix-it fic I started back in 2019. Both young Eddie from 2017 IT and adult Eddie from the 1990 movie are my babies, I adore them both. Eddie Kaspbrak is just such a fun and interesting character, especially to write!

Inej Ghafa, Shadow & Bone/Six of Crows: Yes I know, the 3rd character from this show/book series. But I can't help it, I only discovered it this year! Inej is a wonderfully complex, tragic yet strong character, and I wish the show had time to explore her and her story more. She's fabulous, and brought to life so wonderfully by Amita Suman.

Tagging (no pressure): @peacockfeatherbookmarks @mxliv-oftheendless @lunarmultishine @lonelygodsmuse @sunshinereddie @fanboy-sloth @sparklespirit @gobblegang @every-aj-needs-an-angel @hcarshipper @theredrenard @xstick-noodlesx @virginiaisforvampires @thefairylights and anyone else who wants too!

[gloriousncss]

Task 004: Claire Stuart's Wardrobe

How important is fashion and staying current trends to your character?

Not at all important. Claire marches to the beat of her own drum, and that is indicated by the way that she dresses. While the style of the century is more stiff fabrics, bigger skirts, and tighter bodices, Claire's wardrobe has inspirations from Celtic and Elvish styles.

What colors does your character typically wear? Why do they choose that particular color?

Green is perhaps her biggest motif, representative of the Earth at its absolute healthiest. She will also play with other softer natural colors found in florals like white and accents of pink.

Does your character like to wear a lot of embellishments? Or do they keep it more simple?

Claire's dresses are always adorned with some kind of floral embroidery or 3D floral embellishment, as she has such a deep connection to nature. The idea is that nature is very much as one with her as she is one with it.

What does your character wear when they go to balls and social gatherings?

For fancy parties or balls, Claire deviates away from the greens and gravitates more to the pink and white tones and will also pile on the accessories a bit more, like bigger earrings, necklaces, gloves, and a choker style necklace.

What does your character wear in their day-to-day life?

While the fashion trends of the era are more about solid, sturdier fabrics and tighter bodices, Claire wears flowier, more translucent fabrics that move with the wind and allow her to move a bit more freely about the world. Typically, her sleeves are also tight down to her elbows and flow out either down to the ground or just to her wrists, depending on the occassion.

How does your character style their hair?

She switches it up from up and down depending on how busy she is. When she is most relaxed and care-free, her hair is down with braids scattered throughout. When she's busy, determined, stressed, angry, etc. her hair is up and tight with braids interwoven. When she is focused, yet solemn, her hair is pulled back into a simple braid. She also does like to wear real flowers in her hair as much as possible, but it is important to take note of what kind of flower she wears.

What shoes does your character usually wear?

Lace up boots that are embroidered with flowers and ivy with a little heel. She likes structure amidst the natural world and it also keeps the dirt from outside getting into her toes.

Does your character like to wear jewelry or any other accessories?

If she ever does wear earrings, they are very small and simple. The only necklace she wears is a chain that reaches beneath her neckline that has her departed husband, James's, wedding ring.

What does your character wear to sleep?

A white cotton nightgown, something very basic and simple that allows her body to move freely when she tosses and turns.

[the-body-of-billie]

[non-canonical Elmsbury Vampyre]

Chapter Two

“WARNING: Though the generator is turned off, the current may still be running. Steer clear: Electricity Kills”

***

              “You hear about Maisie Bailey’s dog?” Kat set their plastic tray down on the table in the crowded dinner hall, three weeks back at school and they were already treating uniform rules more so as guidelines reserved for people with no fashion sense, though some could argue that included those who wore skirts on top of trousers.

“What about it?” Trent was neatly picking the pieces of what looked like some form of red vegetable, probably chili peppers, out of his no longer steaming chicken tikka and arranging them in a pile on his paper napkin. It was Curry Wednesday.

“It’s apparently run away, I saw a missing poster for it on the noticeboard outside Professor Holly’s.”

“That sucks, I’d be devastated if Sir Pounce ran away,” Amy conferred. A flash of a memory of the rabbits from the graveyard popped up in her head, but she quickly dismissed it. She hadn’t had cause to think on it since it happened, and the three hadn’t seen anything like it since on their more recent explorations, which were becoming few and far between as school had started up again.

Kat laughed, “Sir Pounce would come sprinting back as soon as he realized the great outdoors doesn’t have home-baked treats or a three-tier cat tree.” They grinned, ripping a bite from their lukewarm naan, now speaking through the bread, “You’ve not got anything to worry about there.”

The dinner hall was very loud and very full; despite it being the Sixth Form area, some GCSE students had snuck their way in to get their hands on the better-quality food and wider selection of vending machines. It was an irregularly shaped room, technically a hexagon which became known to Amy when on a boring clean-up detention a few years back she had counted the walls and tried to calculate the total area of the place; the conclusion she came to was that it was not nearly big enough to contain all two-hundred-and-seven Sixth Form students plus unnoticed intruders. She pulled her chair even closer to the table they were sat at, so the edge jut into her stomach nearly slicing her in half, as a group of loudly-chattering members of the Netball team squeezed their way through the winding labyrinth of gaps between chairs, tables, and students. Amy noticed Kat’s gaze flick to a spot just over her shoulder from where they were sat on the opposite side of the table:

“Would you two ladies mind coming with me?”

The voice of Mrs Sharpe the lunch monitor was droning and monotonous, though high-pitched and nasal enough to cut through the buzzing background sounds of the cafeteria. Kat made a face when they saw the staff member’s line of vision focus on Amy, and stuck their two fingers up at Mrs Sharpe from under the table. Amy looked back at Kat, “Uh.. sure, like, now?”

Mrs Sharpe pursed her lips and nodded mock-solemnly, “Mm-yeah, just you two, Trent needn’t come along.” She waved a dismissive hand at the boy, who shrugged to his friends and continued working on deconstructing his curry back into its base ingredients.

Amy stood up, taking Kat’s blazer sleeve and dragging them up as well, assuming they were both being taken to the Sixth Form Office for another uniform violation. She could maybe see where they were coming from with Kat, though they had read through the rules that morning and nowhere did it say anything against wearing trousers and a skirt- which they were itching to bring up whenever they would be told to go home and change- but Amy didn’t think she was doing anything too out of pocket with her own clothing: maybe it was because she was wearing boots?

The two were marched through the winding corridors of the school, ducking under wooden doorframes that stood as the only remnant of the building’s original Stuart-era structure after the rest was totally rehashed in the late 60’s. It didn’t take Amy long to realise that herself and her friend were being taken up to Mrs Pratchett’s office; a round room with a shallow raised platform on which she conducted meetings and tellings-off located right at the very top of the school- led up to by a winding spiral staircase behind a ‘Staff Only’ door.

“Why’s she taking us to Pratchett’s?” Kat whispered to Amy, speaking out loud the very next thing Amy was going to wonder. Amy shrugged, mouthing a concurrent ‘I don’t know’ as she fought off the light dizziness one gets when climbing an annoyingly tall spiral staircase.

Mrs Sharpe knocked briefly on the large oak door, her narrow blue eyes reflected in the polished copper plaque on the front, watching the two students behind her intently. The door swung open and Amy and Kat were filtered inside.

Amy sat in a little grey chair opposite the desk, trying to smooth her skirt down as close to her knees as she could get it without having to noticeably roll it down. Kat tried their best not to slump huffily into their chair beside her, but still fell back into it with a little too much force, causing Mrs Pratchett to shoot them a stern look through the lenses of her crescent-shaped glasses, “I never thought I would have to have this conversation with you both,” she began a pre-written, but well-practised, speech, “but it has apparently come to this.” She clasped her hands together and leaned forward on the desk, her well-manicured fingernails shiny in the light of the desklamp, “But I think you both may know why I have called you in here today.”

The two students shook their heads.

Mrs Pratchett raised an eyebrow, “I would like to start off by saying that Elmsbury-Gallows Secondary has a zero-tolerance policy on violence and bullying—”

Kat concealed a scoff.

“—and that we take matters like this one incredibly seriously.”

Amy felt her stomach sink a little as her mind connected the dots on why they were both there.

“We received a report,” Mrs Pratchett continued, “from a student, whom I will not name but I believe you both know who I am talking about—”

Amy and Kat nodded hesitantly.

“—this student has put in a report of physical violence that resulted in physical injury and we, as a faculty, have a due diligence to follow up on his claim.” She was focusing her pointed stare on Kat for the most part, but Amy felt a twinge of telepathic blame seeping into her shoes. She looked down to check.

“Now, need I remind you both that this is assault?” she punctuated the statement with a drawn-out disappointed sigh, “and that you are very lucky indeed that the victim’s family have not chosen to pursue legal consequences.”

He bullies us since Primary but as soon as we do one thing to fight back you’re up in arms? Amy felt the thought radiating off Kat, whose head was turned away from her to focus on looking out a window to prevent themself from leaping over the desk and throttling their hexagenerian headmistress. Though their expression was obscured, Amy could see the pulsing muscles in their jaw.

“However,” Mrs Pratchett called the two’s attention back with the adverb, “that is not to say we haven’t decided on an in-school consequence,” she was clearly avoiding the word ‘punishment’, “for you both to face.”

Dammit.

“Myself, Mr Robins- head of Sixth Form, and the victim’s family have decided that you both will attend after-school detentions with your form tutor for the rest of the academic year.”

Kat muttered something that rhymed with ‘puck cough’.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said we deeply regret doing it and won’t do anything like it again.”  

Amy couldn’t deny that she felt the same way as Kat, no matter how much of a stoicist outlook she tried to have, she was angry about this.

“Good. And I am sure you both find this a reasonable consequence for your actions.” This was a command, not a request.

Amy and Kat motioned up and down with their heads, achieving something close to an agreeing nod.

“So, the detentions start today after school,” Mrs Pratchett continued, “and your form tutor is…” she flicked through a file conveniently placed to her right, “Professor Holly?”

A small twinge of relief soothed the ache in Amy’s stomach. At least this would make things more bearable.

The two nodded again.

“Okay, so you won’t have to move classrooms since you have History last period.” She smiled with something that could almost be identified as sympathy, “so your detention is an hour: 3:30 until 4:30.” She snapped the file shut, “glad to have this talk with you- honestly you two, I never expected this from you.” She took off her glasses and folded them neatly in her hand, “less than ten behaviour points between you both- excluding uniform violations- and from nowhere you have this outburst?” she tutted, before motioning that they were free to leave and Amy had never felt more at liberty to do something as quickly as she did then.

***

              “Well I think it’s a bloody pisstake,” Trent was astutely ignoring the research task, a blank word document open on his laptop, “remember when he poured milk over Kat in year ten? He got like a week’s detention for that- tops.”

“Yeah and the time he and his little nitty mates followed Amy back from school— I swear they didn’t even follow up on that one.” Kat’s eyes were the only part of them visible over the top of the table, they had slouched in their chair to an almost horizontal point, “should’ve got his whole head in the door as well.”

“You three better be getting on with the work.” Professor Holly looked over the top of his PC, his mouth obscured but his eyes smiling through his glasses, “and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that from you Kat.”

“I know you’d never snitch on me Sir,” Kat gave him a comically large wink, shimmying upward, and leaning into the laptop and textbook- pretending to read it at first but eventually actually getting some work done. The lesson passed as quickly as it had started, Amy managing to get at least something written up, though not as much as she would have liked, finding it hard to divert her annoyance away from the whole Mike Gregory situation.

The sound of the class diminished as they filtered out to leave, Trent being the last to go, sticking next to his friends until he was forced out, “Should I pop to Cery’s or wait for you guys outside?”

“Go Cery’s- I’ll give you my fiver,” Amy fished around in her blazer pocket, retrieving the crumpled note, “wait at the place if you want but if you wanna go home and change you can.”

“Nah I’ll wait- I’d never run off from you guys.” He smiled, wished them both luck, and went on his expedition to get their snacks for the week from the little corner shop on Abbey Way. The door closed behind him, leaving Amy and Kat alone in the now silent classroom.

3:28.

“You guys want to tell me what happened?” Professor Holly swiveled himself away from the computer screen to face the two sat next to each other at the front of the class, on the table next to the one nearest to his desk.

“Mike Gregory’s a ratty little snitch is what happened.”

Amy kicked Kat under the table.

“Another thing that I’ll pretend I didn’t hear, Kat,” Holly very deliberately concealed a smile.

“He was trying to get into my house after, uhm, failing to scare us,” Amy was careful with her words: the last thing she wanted after this was to admit to her and her friends’ sordid past and active present of trespassing, “so Kat kicked the door to slam him out and accidentally got his fingers trapped.” She shot Kat a pointed glare, “didn’t you.”

Kat shrugged, “I can work with that, yeah.” They sat forward, “It’s just so unfair because, like, he never got in any proper trouble for that time he put Trent in a bin, or when he tipped milk over me, or following Amy home, or ‘accidentally’—” they gestured airquotes, “—dropping the ball on my toes on the year seven bowling trip—” Kat was now ranting quite exasperatedly, “—or, y’know, bullying us since literal Primary School. But noooo, all of a sudden when we react to it we get a year’s after school detention,” they laughed, “What’s worse is that Amy didn’t even do anything wrong! Like I get putting me in here, I probably maybe shouldn’t have actually reacted like I did,” they quickly caught themself, “and, uh, not realized my actions may end up physically hurting someone, despite the lack of intent to harm,” they took a huge breath in, “but c’mon Amy did nothing!”

Professor Holly took a moment to process the excess of word vomit that had just poured out of Kat’s mouth. He absently pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “that is a very fair point, Kat- but I’m not allowed to voice my personal opinion on this, uhm, consequence.” He folded his arms, “but I can say that I definitely see where you’re coming from.”

Kat gave him another one of their comically exaggerated winks, “eh, I see Sir, I see.”

The pealing, shrill ring of the bell signified 3:30, and as if she had been stood waiting in the wings, Mrs Pratchett came coquettishly into the room, “Uh, Kat can you just move over there, so you and Bellamy don’t talk?” Mrs Pratchett pointed to the chair furthest from Amy in which Kat sat, making sure to show all their teeth in their best-practised passive-aggressive smile to the headmistress.

“Attitude.” Mrs Pratchett warned. She moved to sit in a chair under the whiteboard at the front of the class getting out her laptop, her acrylics making a spider-foot tapping on the plastic keys. This, for an hour, Amy groaned inwardly, God help us all.

***

              The walk up to their little spot was not a difficult one if you knew where you were going: a quick stop at Cery’s for snacks, then a thirty minute walk up through Church Close, past Elmsbury Common and down Gallows Trail to the old 1950’s radio tower that stood overgrown and bronzed with rust on the peak of a hill in the middle of the farmland. Up until Gallows Trail it was all pavement, afterward they had to hop a fence to get into the field by the hill, which was a little more offroad; but with the right shoes on it was just as easy as the previous twenty-minutes or so. This trip had always been a little more tiring in the heat, but the view from beneath the tower had been worth it for the three of them since year seven.

The entire span of Elmsbury-Gallows rolled out in front of them like a map, and Amy could point out every nook and cranny in the town from the spot on the hill- the first few times they went up there she would trace her route home as to avoid getting lost. The sun had slowly begun it’s descent behind the curtain of clouds in front of them to the West, dousing the town in a meek, diluted, sandy-yellow glow. From the top of the hill Amy could see on one side the small pocket of land where Johnson’s Farm sat, and over to the other the churning site of the mine renovations- once greys and browns overgrown and untouched, now spotted all over with bright yellow excavators and diggers.

The radio tower itself was overgrown with shrubbery and ivy, rusted an orangey-brown the same colour as the wooden fence around it, the only splash of colour being the faded yellow warning sign peeking out from the leaves on the fence. It pierced up into the sky, it’s needle-like form wobbling slightly as wind passed through it. Amy sat on her blazer in the grass, taking off her tie and putting it in her backpack’s front pocket.

“Well I’m just as mad as you are about it, Kat,” Trent cracked open a can of off-brand coke and handed it to them.

“I know right! It’s like, first they make the sixth-formers wear the GCSE students’ uniform and then they go and wrongfully persecute me and Amy for basically defending ourselves,” they slurped their soda before tumbling down to sit next to Amy, “I mean, persecute me for it, that’s fine I guess- wrong but fine- but, and I literally said this to Holly: Amy did literally nothing and she has to do detentions as well.”

“No, no Kat you don’t get it,” Amy reached up to take her can of coke from Trent, “I was a bystander- and as Mr Greensmith said:” she straightened up, putting on her best Devonshire accent, “I can’t stand a bystander, students! A bystander is like a bully who doesn’t even need to bully!” she reverted to her normal voice, “I was complicit in your heinous crime.”

“Ohh, right of course,” Kat leaned back on their elbows, “you deserve a million years of detention for standing doing nowt in your own house.”

“In all seriousness, you probably shouldn’t have done it, Kat.” Trent joined them both on the grass finally, “no matter how ‘just’ it was.”

“You’re right, you’re right, violence is never the answer,” they conceded and sipped their coke thoughtfully, “it’s the solution.”

“Kat no!”

“Kat yes!”

The three of them laughed, mock-panicking at Kat villain laughing and rubbing their hands together as if plotting their next devilish scheme. Before the laughter died into silence, Kat spoke again, “I’ll have to add it to my list of things to protest against.”

“That why you’re wearing the skirt-over-trousers combo?”

“Hm?”

“To protest the uniform change?” Amy added.

“Oh my God did I not tell you guys? I can’t believe I didn’t tell you guys,” Kat then launched into a spiel about how the uniform change for the older students was infantilizing and wrong, and simply unprofessional, with that usual hint of unserious, straight-faced irony that tinted all of their protesting exploits- always for the sole purpose of entertaining themself and the want to create a common goal between students. The roleplay of a real thing in a fake environment; it had been like this since year eight debate club.

When asked if the skirt-trouser combination would be too stifling for the, now dwindling, summer heat, they simply replied that “justice has no temperature.”

“You should make it a thing,” Amy offered, “get the whole school repping the trouser-skirt in solidarity with your cause.”

Kat wiggled their finger at their friend, saying how that was an excellent idea.

***

              Neil always stayed behind after hours in the school. He didn’t quite know why, most likely a combination of his inability to keep track of time and his love of evening drives; the twilight dwindling a blue sheen over everything, illuminated only by his daytime running lights, not dark enough to need any more illumination. It was the only time of the day that Elmsbury didn’t look completely brown. Most times he would not leave the premises until told to. He also found that leaving so late made it so he would have minimal interaction with other people on the way to his car.

“Neil, can I ask you something quickly?”

He had almost forgotten Mrs Pratchett’s presence in the room, her ability to move in near silence was almost impressive. He nodded to her to proceed with her question.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on those two, a little more closely? It’s just—” she sought and found the words she was looking for, “—I hear sometimes violent outbursts are a result of poor mental health is all, maybe you could try talking to them, see if anything’s up?”

This was odd to Professor Holly, he always thought Amy and Kat were quite happy people, albeit a little strange sometimes but never ill-spirited. Definitely more happy since GCSEs, which is what made this apparent spur of violence even more out of character. He made a noise of confirmation anyway, “Uh, sure of course, I’ll make sure they feel safe to talk if need be.”

Mrs Pratchett smiled in thanks, before leaving him alone in the room to tap away at his keyboard until dusk.

              Though it was the evening and now mid-September, the air was not much less thick nor hot than it had been at the peak of the day; Neil caught a glimpse of a sliver of blood orange disappearing under the deep phthalo horizon, and crammed himself into his brown VW beetle before the fog and the gnats could make their way after him. He blasted the air conditioning, the cold wafts making him sigh in a near euphoria after being stuck upstairs in his stuffy classroom full of students and their signature pubescent stench, “Home, home, home.” He muttered to himself, as if he were afraid he’d forget where he was going next. He turned the key, forgetting he had left his Peel Slowly And See CD in the slot, and he took off out of the staff car park and down the indigo streets around the northward-going-eastward part of Elmsbury to the tune of Run Run Run.

This was the newer part of the town, one might add, where the classic suburban houses with their modernist slanted rooves topped with roosting crows, and floor-to-ceiling windows glowing yellow with light and movement inside. He snaked his way past the outskirts of Elmsbury-Common, which was a little less inspired by mid-century American suburbia, home to those more classically British red-brick mining village homes, though the same yellow glow seeped out of the windows in small square patches on the pavement; he turned sharply onto the older, narrower body of Deerfolk Way, lined on either side by tall, bristling hedges with white flowers peeking out between the leaves like stars. He flicked on his dipped headlights as the sky darkened from dusk to evening.

And then he hit something. Hard.

Neil slammed his foot on the brake, his whole body seizing in rigor-mortis-like panic. Did he hit an animal? He tried to remember what the impact had felt like- as if he were recalling a far-off childhood memory and not the events of thirty-seconds ago.

Should I get out?

What a stupid question to ask himself- whether it was alive or not he would have to move it out of the way to get through the road.

He clambered out of the car, praying for some form of rock or cast-off bag laying in the middle of the tarmac, closing his door and standing with his silhouette illuminated by the headlights behind him, the sound of the next song muffled and constrained to the inside of the car. He slowly moved his eyes to look down.

The body of a white bichon frise lay at his feet, unmoving and half obscured by fog, its fur made opalescent in the deep blue of dusk. Neil suddenly felt very hot, like that rush of feverish heat you get when you’re about to throw up, “Oh God, oh God, oh God—” he paced up and down, looking about himself for any witnesses, trying to tell himself he was hoping for one, not praying there were none. He hadn’t killed the dog, right? There wasn’t any blood on it so he mustn’t have killed it, just run it over after it had died. He tentatively put three fingers to the chest of the thing, maybe he had hit it and it was injured?  He grimaced, reeling back as the his fingers sank through the tufts, not concealing the icy coldness of the dog’s skin which he pressed into, feeling rigor-mortis under his fingertips like a false rubber prop. Neil wondered then why the animal looked somewhat familiar, before suddenly remembering the noticeboard outside his classroom.

It was that girl’s dog- the student. What was her name? He can’t have forgotten her name not here, not like this, not whilst standing over her dead dog. Millie? Maisie? That was it, Maisie— Maisie Bailey. God, she would be devastated. Was he going to tell her?

“Christ, what would I even say,” he chided himself under his breath, “’Oh sorry Maisie I know I haven’t taught you since year nine but here’s your dead dog?’”  he paced back and forth in front of his headlights, “’no, no I promise I didn’t kill it, I just found it like that.’” He almost forgot what the thing looked like, and found himself glancing down to look at it directly again, making eye contact with one of it’s glassy, doll-like black eyes.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Neil hadn’t even fully resolved on what he was doing, feeling a choked sob escape him as he gingerly bundled the dog up in his jacket and put the neatly wrapped package in the boot of his car. He felt like a murderer. It wasn’t on purpose, so technically speaking he was just a manslaughterer. He didn’t like the joke. It didn’t even make sense- he hadn’t killed the dog. Just found it dead.

Am I really going to take this home?

***

              The sky was almost completely dark when Kat was on lookout for Professor Holly’s car: the three had a ritual since they found the tower that they would go home when they could see his car headlights turning into Deerfolk Way. Behind them Amy and Trent were talking about the new mine renovations, and how much they miss doing nearly nightly explorations and ghost hunts: “we should all go out soon, I think,” Amy called over to Kat, beckoning them to come gather to line up timetables, “or at least for half-term,”

“Ooh!” Kat grinned, “We could go out on Halloween!”

Their friends seemed to like that idea, penciling in ‘hunt’ on their planners for Halloween.

“Yeah, but we should go out a little sooner before that,” Trent was flicking through the pages, “what about, uh— oh, look there’s Holly.” He pointed to a pair of round yellow spots in the distance, turning into Deerfolk Way, “we should get going.”

The three resolved to talk about it on the walk back when Trent suddenly shushed his two friends, freezing in place crouched low to the ground, his eyes starting to move around the top of the hill, scanning progressively faster until they focused on what was making the soft, padding footstep sounds coming up the brow of the hill.  

“Holy shit, speak of the devil.” The loud, slightly rasping voice of Mike Gregory barked in the direction of the three, “well, devils, cause y’know there’s three of yous.” He was flanked either side by Harrison Burke and Henry Clarke, both taller than him, all turned out in beige or white sweatpants and Off-White and Lacoste t-shirts, single silver chain necklaces gleaming about each of their necks and pairs of white trainers on their feet: Mike in Yeezys, Henry and Harrison in Airforces. Their hair was well-trimmed and groomed, and was cut in the exact same style as if it had been copy-pasted onto each of their heads. In Mike Gregory’s left hand, the red tip of a smouldering joint glowed in the dusk, puffing out thin trails of smoke, his right was hanging casually at his side, the white bandages that wrapped his broken fingers together into a mitten almost luminous in the dusk, “Aren’t you guys like emo or something?” he took a draw from the joint then passed it to Henry, a small smile cracking up his face, “thought you’d be at the graveyard summoning demons or whatever.” He blew smoke in Trent’s face, laughing and getting his two friends to join in with him. Trent said nothing, turning to his two friends to leave, taking Kat by the arm and whispering to them to leave it before they had the chance to jump on one of the three boys and start gouging their eyes out. They were glad of this, albeit a little disappointed.

“Oi!” Mike called after them, causing Kat to turn around from habit. The three had gotten a few metres down the hill so that when Kat saw him, the bottom halves of his legs disappeared under its brow, and his teeth were white in the deep blue of dusk, the only light source between the three boys was the end of the joint glowing a deep cadmium red, reflecting faintly in his pupils. Mike Gregory held it out towards them, “don’t be rude: come hang out.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Kat called back, met with howls of laughter and coy jeering. Trent managed to steer them back towards the path home before they could run up the hill and put the joint out on Mike Gregory’s eyeball.

***

              Neil was trying his best not to look out of the window. It had been hours since he got home, and therefore hours since he buried the dog, yet whenever he looked down at his hands there seemed to be dirt under his nails despite him having taken a nail clipper to them, almost to the point that there was now not even much nail for there to be dirt under. His glasses steamed up when he looked back to the pot of soup he had been stirring almost reflexively, he tried his best to focus on anything else but his newest suspicion. He had been thinking about it since the mine opened, and since the missing poster appeared on the noticeboard it had lodged itself in the back of his mind consciously or otherwise; it may have been confirmation bias to begin with- starting to see more roadkill than usual didn’t feel at all logical which is why Neil pushed that feeling away, as he was currently doing with the sickness in his stomach that the state of the dog had given him. But something was still out of place for him; his eyes wandered from the small patch of newly re-packed dirt just outside the window to the doors on the cabinet in the hallway.

The books had come from his mother- she had found them in a garage sale in the Antique Books section whilst looking for things to pad her bookshelf with. He remembered her telling him the story of how she had been almost about to leave when a misplaced magnifying glass in a box next to the pile had highlighted in its lens a single name: ‘Phillip Fairfax’. What had struck her about it was that it wasn’t embossed on the spine like the other antique books she had seen, rather it was written in a spidery cursive on a sticker, which upon closer inspection, had been glued onto the book itself, and around its edges there had been faint fingerprints in ink. She had picked it up, of course, and it being the late 60’s she was delighted to see scrawled on the pages what looked like a mixture of old alchemic science and 19th Century mysticism. There had been two textbooks in total of what appeared to be handwritten notes on experiments and findings revolving around some flavour of occultism. Neil’s mother had never been able to devise exactly what denomination of religion it was, and she never extensively read the work as whenever she did she found she would suffer weeks, even months, of night terrors.

It was a good story, though Neil had come to understand as he grew up before he read the books himself, that the last part was most likely an embellishment. When he got round to reading the work, it was during the new age spirituality phase of his early-twenties, he found he got splitting headaches after flicking through the pages, and would see the words from the page imprinted into his vision as if he had been staring into a bright light; he often had to blink for a few minutes to shake the hallucinations completely. It was why he often got Jim to read them to him to make notes on: he never seemed to get the same affliction. Most of the knowledge from the time was lost on him: out of practice and stored now underneath the mounting pile of his subconscious.

He did remember a little from what he had skimmed however, namely the words on the page that he was rifling though delicately to find at this moment. He finished his soup, took off his pink ‘Kiss the Cook!’ apron, then sat down in an armchair to read:

***

18th March, 1841.

              My brother Alexander and I have been circulating theories for a while now on the existence of a supernatural being in the forest and farmland about the house. It has been a few weeks since we commandeered the library from Cassandra, and have both decided to conduct a rather dangerous experiment on what locals call ‘The Deer Man’. I would have been inclined to dismiss this superstitious myth as simply the imaginations of the peasantry, but ever since Alexander has been reading from the Collection, he has become quite obsessed with the presence of this potential entity. Although I myself am a man of Christian science and new head of the parish, I do not wish my brother to come to any spiritual harm in his experiments and am acting as a guide to deter him from witchcraft or any conjuring of daemons or the occult.

Alexander’s theory is that the entities in the surrounding area are of Celtic origin as they are spoken of in many texts from the earlier years of the Library’s existence in relation to creatures such as Pixies, Gnomes, or Imps. I, myself, conflate this notion and believe the creatures in the surrounding woods to be spirits or, more worryingly, daemonic creatures; however, where both of our theories overlap is in the notion that to encounter whatever entities there may be, one must first directly disturb them. So, my brother proposed that we must take note of the rate of activity as it is right now, and then take action to provoke the entity(s) and record on whether there is an uptick in happenings or not. Below are the notes taken on our small experiment on this hypothesis:

18th March, 1841

-Ventured into the forest surrounding grounds with Alexander; brought with us a rifle but no hunting dogs

-Made note of tracks which looked like hoof markings in dirt near reservoir, antlers shed in a tree, and what appeared to be feathers shaken off in a violent manner as if attacked by a predator upon a manmade dirt track; all of which are expected in a forest

-Nothing more of note, though this is expected

***

19th March, 1841

-Day two of observation: took hunting rifle into forest; explored with Alexander

-Mostly same occurrences: hoof markings, pawprints of what looked like a form of fox, feathers, pieces of old wood (possibly man-made but unlikely), and sheep’s wool on a wire fence

-Nothing more of note, though this is expected; all is in way with our hypothesis

***

20th March, 1841

-Final day of observation: took hunting rifle and Alexander

-Most things remained the same, however one occurrence of note being upon overturning a log I was swarmed all over by a nest of tiny silver spiders; managed to shake them off but found a few in my hair whilst writing this

-Nothing more of note, though this is expected; am nervous for the provocation stages, may take Bible; all is in way with our hypothesis

***

21st March, 1841

-First day of provocation stage, took hunting rifles with us into the forest, took extra ammunition

-Read up this morning on local legend, apparently you must not take from the forest lest you provoke the spirits; we have resolved to take back with us a stone each to test if this is a large enough provocation

-Took stones with no hassle, got back to the house without any hindrance whatsoever- may need a harsher provocation; may bring dogs out with us tomorrow

***

22nd March, 1841

-Second provocation stage day; took rifles with us though Alexander refused to bring the dogs much to my own protest

-Took paint and brushes with us to the forest today, marked two trees with red X markings; didn’t see much of note though did hear the sound of a tree being felled nearby without evidence of the occurrence itself (though this is chalked up to echoes and acoustics, my brother is going to ask around his tenants in case someone was felling a tree, since they cannot do so on his property)

-Nothing of note happened on the walk back to the house, however when placing my hand in my coat pocket I found a single milk tooth at the bottom of it, I assume placed there by one of my sons

***

23rd March, 1841

-Third day of provocation, I have persuaded Alexander to let me bring Merrylass and Vidge though not out of fear of the forest, just from my hearing of padding steps nearby us yesterday which I assumed belonged to a boar or fox

-Went out with intention to snap branches from trees as disruption, and to pick flowers since this feels a more violent taking than the stone method

-Ran into a hunter out in the forest, when Alexander warned him off his land the man smiled from a distance through the trees, whistling a tune to himself; this angered my brother who aimed his rifle at the man, threatening to shoot him for trespass; the man bolted away at a speed I thought inhuman; maybe he was the one felling a tree yesterday

-Undisturbed on the walk back, though we did come across a nest of those spiders again, both of us run over by the creatures and needing a bath once we got in

-The dogs did not like the forest and after supper I found Merrylass dead in a way I could not bear to show Alexander: guts spilled, flesh ripped, but no apparent presence of blood, as if it had been all but washed off of her body. She was sprawled out almost methodically, displayed like a diagram. I suppose some animal must have tracked her scent back in the forest and followed us back, for I found her dead outside I hypothesise that she must have escaped the house and been killed by the thing. What nags me is that she was not partially eaten whatsoever.

***

              In our observation since, some strange occurrences have taken place, favouring our initial hypothesis to what I thought would be my apprehension but instead I find is to my own morbid sense of curiosity. The nights have not been kind to my brother, I can hear him shuffling about the house from my chambers, a deep muttering taking root in his throat; on nights especially bad I can hear the grinding sound of the hinges of the first Gate, and know he is ventured into that library to use the hours of the night to study as well as that of the day. He has told me to note down occurrences that have happened solely to himself, and that I will do:

-Nightmares

-Hearing the sound of a pianoforte playing outside the house

-Visions of a large dog with flaccid teeth that flap like paper in its breath

-The sound of swarms of bees in the house

These are what he has asked me to note down, however from my own observation of him he seems to be a lot thinner, as if he is not eating. I have also noticed a new-founded, worrying, obsession with the Library and this ‘Deer Man’ that the locals speak of in particular. He keeps speaking of a great tree with the cave to the centre of the earth beneath it- he knows I do not like his talk of it, so he has stopped mentioning it as often. But I can see him thinking of it and in sparing a glance at his own textbook, it is vacant of notes and scrawled all over with the crooked illustrations of the branches of a wych elm.  

[venturetranscripts]

Banquo Orbit 5K

"Banquo Orbit 5K" is the first mission of Wreck Runner.

Welcome to Solfleet! A routine salvage mission to a debris field reveals more than you bargained for and threatens to turn deadly.

Cast

Duffy - Christina Greatrex

Eats - Sarah Griffin

Peter Cassidy - Philip Nightingale

Control - Julianna Kurokawa

Drone - Beth Eyre

Wreck - You!

Crew

Writers - Alasdair Stuart and Mur Lafferty

Director - Matt Wieteska

Sound Designer - Mark Pittam

Plot

Race You!

Duffy welcomes you to the team, and apologises that you're being immediately thrown into a mission. Eats will partner with you for this, and tells you that you're checking out a shuttle trapped in debris. Recover any survivors, and salvage anything useful. Better get going!

Follow Those Drones!

Eats wonder what such an old shuttle was doing this deep in the Boneyard. You enter through a hole in the hull. Eats doesn't register any survivors, but it looks like life support is still working on the other side of the airlock. Time to get to work.

Circuit

The shuttle is huge, but Duffy says that it apparently had only had a skeleton crew of three people. Duffy seems to be hiding something from you, and tells you to just bring the crew home. The drones sense a life sign and it seems agitated. You head through the next door and find the room trashed. There's a man standing outside an occupied stasis pod. Duffy tells you that's Peter Cassidy. Cassidy says that he won't go back, and then comes after you with a knife.

Debris Ring

You lose Cassidy and hide in the ship's kitchen where you are confronted by Kurokawa, the ship's Control. They tell you that Cassidy had lost it a week ago, and the struggle caused the ship to crash. A drone notifies you that one life-sign has left the ship. Control says it's probably Cassidy trying to steal your shuttle. You can run through the ring of debris to try to catch him.

Short Cut

Duffy needs you to do one more thing; Cassidy has something that you need to recover, and you can't let it fall into the wrong hands. Control has a short-cut in mind for you.

Emergency Action

If you jump from the hull, inertia will carry you straight to the shuttle, and you should be able to beat Cassidy there. Eats is uncertain because of the lack of a tether, but Control insists that it's the only way. You release you mag-boots, and manage to make it across open space to the shuttle, just in time to catch Cassidy. You try to get the data off him, but he jumps into space rather than give it up. And worse news! Eats missed the landing.

Swarm

Eats is still out of reach and your suit is going to run out of air soon. Duffy suggests turning back so you don't lose two crew members. Thinking quickly, you separate one of the drones from the swarm and throw it to Eats. The drone manages to drag Eats back towards you when it tries to return to the others. Duffy worries about the efficacy of the drone swarm, but they seem to have taken a liking to Eats. You'd better get back to the shuttle quickly though.

New Family

You make it back to the shuttle and close the airlock. You can remove your space suit. Control is welcomed to the team, and says that she has a copy of the data that Cassidy took. Eats demands to know why she didn't say that earlier, and Control explains that Cassidy was listening in and they couldn't risk him sending the data to anyone else. Eats demands answers considering you're all going to be working together. Control shows you some of the documents, much of which is redacted. It seems to be about a ship called the Minerva, which vanished in a possible first contact situation.

Transcript

Race You!

(Ongoing ambient sounds of a space shuttle)

Duffy: Codename Wreck. I'm glad you were able to join our team on such short notice. We're sorry to throw you into your first mission so quickly, but this is extremely time sensitive. Dock with the other shuttle and rendezvous with your team for briefing. Welcome to the runners, Wreck.

(Door opens)

Eats: Wreck! About time, we were about to go on without you.

Drones: Untrue! No human embarks on a mission alone!

Eats: You drones ruin everything.

Drones: Untrue! A mission is impossible without us!

Eats: God, you're annoying! Anyway, hey Wreck! Seems we're gonna check out a shuttle caught up in a stretch of hot debris. Gonna be around 5 kilometres to do the whole run.

It's just you and me, you know. Mission's not important enough for Circuit or Control.

Duffy: We haven't hired a Control for the team yet, and Circuit is still recovering from Martian flu. For now, the drones will brief you.

Drones: You'll go recover survivors and salvage from derelict Shuttle, Diana, currently moored in the ring of debris orbiting the South Pole.

Eats: A. K. A. the Boneyard, right? And these floating cricket balls come with us! Let's go, Wreck! Hey, race ya!

Follow Those Drones!

Drones: You have travelled one kilometre.

Eats: Look at that, Wreck! That's an early Zeus shuttle. Still space worthy. Well, not so much now. What was she doing so deep in the boneyard?

Duffy: The only question you need is, can you find survivors and salvage?

Eats: I suggest we enter through that burning hole in the hull. You go first, Wreck.

Uh, sorry you missed the Meet Your Crew And Get Drunk party. In short, my story is, I'm a runner because I'm a terrible shot. But I can cook, and I keep a mean inventory spreadsheet. So, I'm your Eats runner …

(The sound of burning)

And we're in! I'm seeing no survivors, Duffy.

Duffy: That's not surprising, Eats, since you're in the burning cargo bay.

Eats: I guess we keep moving.

Hey Dronie, can you unlock this door?

Drones: Ooo! Whee!

(Drones open the door – presumably with laser and little robot hands)

Eats: Brilliant. Looks like life support is working on the other side of this airlock.

(The airlock opens)

We are into the ship's living area now. This hallway has lights and gravity.

(Eats and Wreck land on the ground. Eats takes off her helmet. She is much clearer to hear now)

Phew. Which way are the quarters?

Duffy: The drones have a map of the old Zeus style shuttles.

Time to run, Wreck. Follow those drones!

Circuit

Drones: You have travelled two kilometres!

Eats: This Zeus shuttle is huge!

Duffy: Early Zeus class shuttles were the largest in the fleet.

Eats: Do you have a plan of how we're to bring a huge shuttle crew home in our little shuttle?

Duffy: Intel says the Diana crashed because it had a skeleton crew … three crew members.

Eats: I'm feeling like there's something you're not telling us.

Duffy: Just … bring them home.

Drones: Sensors indicate one life signature inside. Copy [sic?] is agitated.

Eats: Agitated? Wait a second!

Drones: Open!

Eats: Whoa! Shouldn't we come up with a plan or something?

(The airlock opens despite Eats’ protests.)

Duffy: Who's inside?

Eats: This place is trashed! Equipment smashed. Glass all over the floor! I think that's blood on the walls. Two people, one in a stasis pod. The guy outside is … tall? White guy, white hair, about 60.

Duffy: That is Peter Cassidy. This crew's Circuit.

Eats: Mr. Cassidy, I'm Eats, and this here's Wreck, and I'm sure that's not blood on the walls, right?

Cassidy: Uh ... No! I won't go back! You can't take me back!

Eats: He doesn't look happy to see us and he's got a knife! Oh God. Run Wreck!

Debris Ring

Drones: You have run 2. 5 kilometres.

Duffy: Runners, report.

Eats: We ended up in the kitchen. Crazy guy stopped chasing us. We have to get out of here!

Duffy: Not until you confirm the whereabouts of the third crew member.

Control: Psst. Over here.

Eats: Gah! You Diana crew just like scaring people, don't you?

Control: No, no, I need a lift. I'm Kurokawa, but you can call me Control.

Duffy: Oh, I was hoping you'd find Kurokawa. Are they alright? Get them an encounter suit so we can communicate.

Eats: Yeah, they're okay. I'm Eats, this is Wreck, and Duffy's yelling in my ear to report how you're doing?

Control: I'm alright. Just a bit of a stab wound. Cassidy lost it about a week ago. We were at the shuttle in the fight. Kept talking about his 'mission'.

Eats: Duff, Control says 'alright' and 'stab' in the same sentence.

Drones: Alert! One life form has exited the ship!

Control: Cassidy's probably off to steal your shuttle and abandon us all here to die. That's just like him.

Eats: We still need to get you a suit! There's no way we'll catch him!

Control: We can run through the ring of debris. Won't be easy, but we don't have a choice.

Run!

Short Cut

Drones: You have run three kilometres!

Control: Hey, Duffy, I'm good to go.

Duffy: Good to have you Control. Runners, you need to do one more thing.

Eats: What's more important than beating a psychopath back to our shuttle?

Duffy: There's something in that shuttle Cassidy didn't want us to have. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands.

Eats: Not only no, but Hell no.

I'm getting out of here and back to Earth and then … I'm gonna become a chemist! Chemists don't get stabbed!

Duffy: Wreck? I'm cutting communication with Eats.

Control, did you get the data we were looking for?

Control: I didn't get it, but it's something Cassidy would have taken.

Duffy: Why? Who … is he working with?

Control: He wouldn't tell me.

Duffy: You must stop him from getting it into the hands of anyone other than us.

Eats: Hey, are you talking to Duffy without me?

Control: She wanted to talk to us while you were busy planning your new career. We need to get going. I have a shortcut in mind. Let's run.

Emergency Action

(A door opens, we hear the creak of the wreck and debris. Everyone’s helmets are back on)

Drones: You have travelled four kilometres!

Control: This debris forms a ring. If we jump from this hull, inertia will carry us in a straight line to the shuttle, beating Cassidy.

Eats: Across open space without a tether?

Control: It's the only way. Grab onto something to stop your fall. Duff, we still have a chance. Cassidy's had to slow down.

Eats: I don't see -- Oh, wait, there he is. Wow, he's got terrible running form.

Duffy: Focus, Eats. You're trained for this. Disconnect your magnetic boots. Jump, and you should reattach to debris on the other side.

Eats: (groaning with apprehension and discomfort) When did 'should' get so scary?

Control: Come on, we have to go now.

Eats: Go ahead, Wreck.

(Wreck disconnects their magnetic boots, takes the leap, and lands with a thump.)

Hey, you made it!

Control: Let's move! Cassidy is coming around that old rocket shell.

(Wreck – and maybe Control – detain Cassidy, keeping him from going further)

Cassidy: Get off me!

Control: Cassidy, we're taking you back to Earth. SolFleet has some choice things to say to you.

Cassidy: Someone has to turn SolFleet over and reveal the worms wriggling underneath.

Control: That's poetic … and gross. Wreck! Get the data! Rip the suit if you have to!

No! Cass - Cassidy! Don't!

Cassidy: Give my regards to Duffy. Be seeing you!

Control: Duffy. He's jumped into space and the data's with him.

Eats: Hey team! Team! Help! I missed the landing!

Duffy: Runners! Emergency action! Now!

Swarm

Control: Eats is still just out of reach. We've followed them for half a kilometre. We can't keep up.

Duffy: You have to turn back. Wreck's suit is going to run out of air soon. We can't lose another team member.

Eats: Oh God. No! Don't let me suffocate out here, Wreck! Please!

Drones: [sic] This is highly embarrassing! The swarm hasn't -- Whoa!

Control: Hang on, Wreck. You're not supposed to separate the drones. Oh. I see. Eats, heads up!

Eats: Why'd you throw me a drone? What's a freakin’ cricket ball gonna --

Drones: Gotta get back. Gotta get back. Be the Swarm, swarm, swarm!

(The Drone continues in the fashion until it is reunited with it’s pair, heard in the background saying things of this nature.)

Control: Hang on, Eats!

Duffy: Don't separate the drones.

Drones: Gotta get back. Gotta get back.

Duffy: They could act unpredictably.

Control: The drone is returning to the swarm and is pulling Eats back.

Drones: Gotta get back. Swarm, swarm, swarm!

Swarm, swarm, swarm! Ooo! Whee!!

Eats: You saved my life, little buddy! Quick thinking, Wreck! I didn't know these things could drag a human!

Duffy: I'm glad you're safe. But I'm worried about the efficacy of the swarm now.

Eats: Aw, they seem alright. Except they're swarming around me now. Oh, how cute! They think I'm their mama!

Duffy: This debriefing is gonna be a nightmare.

Just run back to the shuttle quickly.

New Family

Drones: We have run our maximum of 5 kilometres! Our air will run out shortly.

Eats: Made it! We're at the airlock, Duff.

Duffy: Good work. Get inside. Take off your suits and cool down.

(The team does just that)

Eats: You know, untethered spacewalks weren't in the job description. I thought we'd see new places, meet new people!

Duffy: You just did both of those things. Plus you got a new drone family. I'm gonna have to ask Circuit about how this happened. Control, have you seen any sign of Cassidy?

Control: Long gone, I'm afraid. Let's get autopilot going.

Wreck, check life support in the engines. Eats, make sure the crew have water.

Eats: Wait a second, who died and made you boss?

Duffy: Her call sign is Control, Eats. She's part of the team now.

Eats: Finally! Another crew member! Welcome to the Athena, Control. We can have a drink and swap stories when we get back to Earth. I guess you two know each other from Duffy sending you on a super secret job that she decided not to tell us about, huh?

Duffy: I'm glad you're coming home safely, Control, but the loss of that data is huge.

Control: Don't worry, Duff. I have a copy.

Duffy: Why didn't you say that earlier?

Control: Because Cassidy had to be listening in and the real threat was him delivering the data into the wrong hands.

Duffy: I forgot how insufferable and pedantic you were sometimes. Come home safely, crew.

Duffy out.

Eats: Ooo-oo! I think I'm gonna like working with you. So, what's in the file?

Control: Classified.

Eats: Wreck and I nearly died today saving your life. And if we're on the same team, you gotta trust us.

Control: Mmm, That's true.

Here's the scan.

Eats: Great. Hang on. Half the words are blacked out. We risked our lives for this?

Control: Duffy will have to decipher the redacted words.

Eats: Good Lord. Is this document about the Minerva?

Control: Yes. It covers Captain Mallory's last mission. The official mission was to find scouts lost in the irradiated wormhole sector, but SolFleet really expected a first contact situation, which they intended to escalate into a military incident. Before she disappeared, she sent three messages back.

Eats: I heard she sent only one. ‘Crew is safe’.

Control: The second one was, ‘I can't wait for you.’ The third is blacked out, but it looks something like, ‘peace through any means necessary.’

Eats: That's ominous. So, we're returning redacted SolFleet data to them? Don't they have this already?

Control: Um, not to SolFleet per se. We're returning it to Duffy.

Eats: I see what you're doing. Sort of. Hey, Wreck, did you think you'd be landing in such an adventure when you joined the Runners? I sure didn't.

Control: So Eats, are you still going to quit the Runners and be a chemist?

Eats: Are you kidding? This just got interesting! Besides, I can't leave my new family, can I?

(Eats sounds like she’s hugging a drone in gratitude. The drone exclaims in pleasant surprise.)

Drones: Oh!  

Control: Good. Take us home, Runners.

Mission completed.

Codex - Bonus Features

Letter

FROM: Control TO: Wreckrunner Team 01 SUBJECT: Saving My Life

So, thanks for saving my life.

I’m not one for speeches. Never know who might be listening.

Look, here’s the thing. You folks took the call on your first day out and pulled me out of the fire. You had no reason to, no reason to trust me even. And even then, when I told you the worst news people in our business can hear, you took it in your stride. SolFleet may be not be honourable, but you sure as hell are. You ran towards the burning building. You put yourselves to one side in return for saving me. That’s not something I can forget. I’m not sure I know how to. Or how to express my gratitude.

My hope is that serving beside you, having your backs when you’re out there on the edge, will be enough. Because I’ll always be there. Right next to you.

Thanks, folks. Stay sharp.

Control

[thedarkcknight]

Day 28 The Solstice Spirit (Katrina Stuart)

Y/N'S POV

The snow crunched beneath my boots as I trudged through the park, the crisp December air painting my cheeks a rosy hue. Katrina walked beside me, bundled in a navy peacoat and a knit beanie that matched her hazel eyes. Despite the chill, her laughter warmed the space between us. She had always been my partner in holiday mischief, and tonight was no exception.

"Do you think it’ll work?" Katrina asked, her voice full of excitement and just a hint of skepticism.

"It has to," I replied, gripping the old book tighter under my arm. Its worn leather cover held the key to our plan—or so I hoped. "If what this says is true, then tonight, the Winter Solstice, is the perfect time to call the Solstice Spirit."

Katrina raised an eyebrow. "You’re really going all in on this, aren’t you?"

I shrugged, a smile tugging at my lips. "You said you wanted a Christmas miracle. Let’s make it happen."

The park was nearly empty, save for a few bundled-up couples and kids dragging sleds behind them. We found the spot—an open clearing surrounded by towering evergreens—and laid out the items we’d gathered: a wreath of holly, a candle, and a small bell.

Katrina crouched beside me, her breath forming clouds in the air. "So, we just light the candle and ring the bell? That’s it?"

"Pretty much," I said, flipping through the pages of the book. "Then we say the words."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You and your love for the supernatural. I swear, one day we’re going to end up summoning something we can’t handle."

"Not today," I said with a grin. "Ready?"

She nodded, her smile lighting up the night.

I struck a match and lit the candle, the flame flickering in the gentle breeze. Then, together, we rang the bell and recited the words from the book.

For a moment, nothing happened. Katrina glanced at me, her expression a mix of amusement and pity. "Well, that was—"

Before she could finish, the air shifted. A soft glow enveloped the clearing, and a figure appeared—a woman draped in a shimmering cloak of starlight, her presence both calming and awe-inspiring.

"You have called, and I have come," the figure said, her voice like a melody.

Katrina’s jaw dropped. "No way. Is this real?"

I could only nod, too stunned to speak.

The Solstice Spirit smiled, her gaze warm and kind. "What is it you wish for this Christmas?"

Katrina hesitated, then glanced at me. "I just want this one to feel special," she said softly. "For us to remember it, you know? Something magical."

The spirit nodded, raising her hand. A gentle wave of light swept over the clearing, and suddenly, the snow sparkled like diamonds. The evergreens shimmered with an ethereal glow, and the air filled with the sound of soft, chiming bells.

Katrina grabbed my hand, her eyes wide with wonder. "This is amazing," she whispered.

The Solstice Spirit looked at us, her smile knowing. "Cherish this moment, for it is the love and laughter you share that makes this season magical."

And just as quickly as she appeared, she vanished, leaving us standing in the enchanted clearing.

Katrina turned to me, her face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. "Okay, you were right. This is officially the best Christmas ever."

I laughed, squeezing her hand. "Told you the supernatural isn’t all bad."

As we walked back through the park, the memory of the Solstice Spirit lingered, a reminder that sometimes, the most magical moments are the ones we share with the people who mean the most.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Jennifer Castle Interview: Recognize My GPS

Photo by Jimmy Limit

BY JORDAN MAINZER

I first came across Canadian singer-songwriter Jennifer Castle ten years ago, upon the release of her fourth album Pink City. Enraptured by its lush arrangements, I caught her live at the Hideout later that fall, only to watch her play the record front to back, with no breaks in between, on solely acoustic guitar, putting its awe-filled lyrics front and center. Ever since then, I've realized Castle is an artist who can do it all--she'd follow up Pink City with 2018's grief-stricken, expansive Angels of Death and 2020's unvarnished, semi-improvised folk record Monarch Season. And whenever she comes out with an album, it seems like it comes just when you need it, at the right time of year to boot. Alas, earlier this month, Castle dropped Camelot (Paradise of Bachelors), another autumn opus that finds something celestial in the earthbound.

On Camelot, Castle culls from the best qualities of her previous records. Unsurprisingly, it returns many of the same personnel, like members of her venerable backing band: guitarist Jeff McMurrich, who co-produced it, as well as drummer Evan Cartwright, bassist Mike Smith, guitarist Paul Mortimer, and vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig. Jonathan Adjemian, who played piano and organ on Angels of Death, bolsters the choogling mid-album highlight "Mary Miracle" and sweeping ballad "Fractal Canyon". Legendary composer Owen Pallett, who provided string arrangements to much of Pink City, does the same for dramatic ballad "Blowing Kisses", a song that, prior to Camelot's release, appeared in an episode of the third season of The Bear. In a sense, Camelot could be a good entry record for those unfamiliar with Castle's albums and performances. It's got a gentle guitar waltz ("Trust") and solo performance ("Earthsong") as well as expressive, upbeat folk songs (the title track, "Louis").

Yet, Camelot simply sounds bigger than Castle's prior music. That's partly attributable to her looser control of the band. For the first time, Castle played only acoustic guitar on the record, giving control of the piano and keys to Carl Didur. The band's mission to unlock the rhythms of the songs, like puzzles waiting to be solved, eventually sees them play up their 70's rock and country influences. "Lucky #8" finds something holy in dance. Backed by slide guitar from none other than Cass McCombs, Castle sings, “So just give the money to the dancers / While their hips go figure eight / And they entrance us with the answers / And we hope and pray the message ain’t too late.” "Full Moon in Leo", meanwhile, juxtaposes a psychedelic keyboard groove with saxophone from in-demand multi-instrumentalist Stuart Bogie, a strutting country tune with a hazy, flower power AM radio edge. It's one of a few times on the album where the song is self-aware. "I did not come here to talk about orange / And all of the things that have come up before us / And Florida and that warm catchy chorus," Castle sings, her free association-style rhyming giving you a front row to her state of mind. The song is a mix of absurd substance and style: At one point, Castle actually sings, "Big hair, don't care."

What's best about Camelot, though, is Castle's mere control of language. For one, she can write tongue twisters that make your ears itch. On "Earthsong", she sings, "Names are small, and names are games / And forces gain good ground / When light moves tat the speed of sound." On "Blowing Kisses", she declares, "I'm not a beggar to language any longer," and later follows it up with a well-timed obscenity that's a humblebrag statement of conquering: "I'm so fucking honored." On "Fractal Canyon", she sprinkles details of people who sound so mythical they have to be real. "I'm with Paul, who's speaking in an Irish accent / Him and I wear tiger eye, and that's no accident / I take comfort in the stripe, the stone of protection / From Daffodil Bill and the thrill of rejection." Whether or not you know who these people are, it's the line repeated over the song's verses that matters most: "I'm not alone here." In the world of music--from her backing band to the characters in her songs--the writer who often performs on stage by herself is anything but solitary.

I spoke to Castle last month over Zoom about how Camelot fits in within her discography, her writing and recording process, capturing negative human emotions, and stripping down her songs for stage. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Jesse Harris' Camelot cover art

Since I Left You: The themes on Camelot alternate between the very real and tangible and the more cosmic and abstract. Can you talk about that interplay?

Jennifer Castle: I wonder if that interplay is always present with my songwriting, which tends to feel like an opportunity to travel great distances while, at the same time, tipping your cap to exactly where you are. In writing, it feels very beneficial for me to recognize my GPS, where I am at the moment, whether that's details, something very literal, or something very grounding that I can mention, I can take to ground the concepts, which often tend to try to transcend where I am at the time. I think both distances, the small, minute place, and the large, vast, potentially infinite spaces, are interesting to try to map out when I'm making a record.

SILY: I see that in all of your songs, but it did stand out to me on this record.

JC: I think you're right. There were definitely times when I was recording where I was trying to address larger orbits, larger spheres.

SILY: I might be a little bit taken by the sound of it, too, because your previous record was comparatively minimally arranged. What inspired your decision to make this a much fuller sounding record with a band?

JC: I think Monarch Season was more of a definitive decision than Camelot was. It's challenging for me to be as consistent in vibe as Monarch Season was. I [wanted] to make a record where I set a tone and [continued] that tone all the way throughout. I tour a lot solo because it's accessible, and people afterwards would come to me and say, "What record is like what you just did?" And I'd say, "I don't actually have one." I was always describing my records, saying, "Pink City has these arrangements," and "Angels of Death has a band," so I really made a decision to make Monarch Season the way it was. Camelot returns back to a natural musical sensibility where I like all different types of songs.

Monarch Season also came out right as the pandemic happened. I had made it while I was really busy touring. I stole away a weekend in 2019. It was released at a time when some people were in really still, quiet places, at home. It was seen as something bare and minimal, and collectively, we were going through something that was more essential or quiet. While I was going through those years, I was back to imagining all those great spaces I can take up. I envisioned the Camelot songs sounding the way they did before we even made them.

SILY: Some songs on Camelot do lend themselves to the way you play live, but others I'd be interested to see how you bring down to something more stark. Did you write the songs on guitar before fleshing them out?

JC: More or less. Maybe "Blowing Kisses" I wrote on piano. I think that might be it on this record. I just played acoustic guitar in my kitchen. My son was home a lot--he wasn't in school at the time--so I wrote them at home with my little life happening around me. I have distinctive memories of, not writing in lyric, but strumming out "Mary Miracle" and thinking, "What a funny tune!" It has a propulsion to it. I could already hear it. It's almost like it was already there and I was waiting to get to go and record it.

SILY: That's funny--I wrote down "propulsive" a lot when listening to this record. I love on "Mary Miracle" how you're ranting and you don't finish your sentence before you go back into the chorus: “And I want to know how you came to value / The practice of dragging by the hair those pals who / On their invisible crosses / Of their capitalist bosses / Who in the trash tossed out / That red beating thought that / That all is not lost and / That belief at all cost and...”

JC: I felt this record had a little bit of a breathlessness to it in general. It felt lyrically exhaustive. I don't mean that as a diss to myself, but it had a run-on-sentence aspect to it. Monarch Season, the songs were more lyrically refined or even taking a page from haiku. This one felt like the narrative always could have had one more thing to say. That even presented itself in the recordings and performances. They're wordy.

SILY: Were there any newfound aesthetic or instrumental influences on Camelot?

JC: I certainly have never just played acoustic guitar all throughout a record before. I gave the majority of the piano and keys to Carl Didur, and the rest to Jonathan Adjemian, who does the run on "Mary Miracle". I sat back and let us perform as a band ensemble. I hadn't done that consistently throughout a record before. I often perform bed tracks and build them, and maybe a handful of songs we'll do together, or there's more of a balance between built bed tracks and recording. Other than the two spare guitar songs that I play, [on Camelot,] we went in together. It has a cool ensemble feel, which I love, and I'd like to learn more about how to do that and trust that process.

SILY: That makes a lot of sense. For instance, I had never heard a song of yours ever quite like "Lucky #8" or "Full Moon in Leo", that give jangle pop and Dolly Parton/Emmylou Harris vibes, respectively.

JC: I don't know all of everybody's songs or catalogs, but I've gotten their downloads. I know the energy. Often, people are more taken back live when I share that, but I can embody the energy really easily. I don't know that I had necessarily put it on record before. Even "Sparta" on Pink City was built up from a really spare bed track. Songs that are more rock songs that I've made were more architecturally built. "Lucky" has flourishes, but we got it as a band together. Same with "Full Moon in Leo".

SILY: Even the songs you recorded as a band together have an aspect of restraint that's reminiscent of some of your earlier work: the calmness of the title track, the way "Louis" is built around the bass line.

JC: I always have a fairly funny joke with the people I'm recording with: I don't mean it literally, but I always say we're in a crew. It's kind of like Lord of the Rings. We all have to hunker down together, we all have to find the groove, and not many people get to have fun. Then, there'll be a moment where the bass gets to go for a tour, or maybe we hear something from the guitar player. There's lots of rock music where everybody is doing tons of stuff. If we're going to be together, I like us to hunker in together and hit the groove. That's more of a style I think I have.

SILY: I wanted to ask you about the following lines on "Trust": “Scientists insinuate / That facts are facts and lines are straight / Doctors say they can help / Then stoke you with the fear of death," and, “Church is good / church is great.” Are you bouncing back and forth in tone on those lines? Are you at all being facetious? From what perspective are you singing?

JC: I think that song was the last song we recorded. The band had never heard it. It wasn't even really a song before we recorded it, but I had a hunch it was maybe a song. That song starts with really basic human negative emotions we're all prone to and then scales it out to places where people are in a position of power. The way I think about it, you have the church, then the medical fields and science, then government. [The song] keeps going for places where power is played up. I think it's interesting that it at first links it to these basic human emotions we all feel. I didn't have something I was trying to get across in that song. I had a hunch it would be interesting to include something more paranoid and uneasy with this collection of songs, even though I wasn't quite sure how it would fit in. I thought that was kind of cool, in a resonant way.

I learn a lot about that song when I listen to it, too. I still have things to learn about it. I don't know where it's necessarily entirely coming from, or what it means. But I don't think it has a particular meaning. What I've gleaned is that what starts out in our tiny resonant selves can escalate. You can be in a massive position of power and just work from core human emotions, and those are the negative ones: cynicism, jealousy, anger. I'm not saying they're not good or that I've never felt them. I'm just saying they're there and they run through us. How do those work? At what place do they stop being within the cages of our own being, and more into what we think of as social and collective?

SILY: "Trust" fittingly comes after "Some Friends", a song that deals with the complexities of friendship and interpersonal relationships. I feel like "Trust" is like "Some Friends", but amplified.

JC: ["Some Friends"] has betrayal right up front. Sometimes, I like to get the tough stuff out at the front of the record. I remember when I was sequencing Pink City, I was like, "We have to have 'Working For The Man' and 'Nature' up front." People were saying, "Put 'Sailing Away' up front!" and I said, "No, no, no, we gotta...introduce the spectrum of feelings that might be on the record." There are hurt feelings on "Some Friends". I hadn't really explored that too much. I don't think it's bitter, I think it's more hurt. When you're a writer, you can turn a phrase really quickly and cast it off as being bitter or cynical. I've done that a million times and probably still will. I like sharp wit. But I thought there was something sitting a little more complicated in those first couple songs.

SILY: On "Lucky #8", when you sing, “And I don’t want to lose ya / You’re my only audience / Nor will I abuse ya / By not making sense,” are you breaking the fourth wall and making a comment about obtuseness in songwriting?

JC: [laughs] I like the idea of breaking the fourth wall. It's another thing that would fall under the GPS context, making it suddenly very clear where your position is and where you're at, at the very moment. "Suddenly, I'm singing, and I'm looking directly at the audience." That song is an absolute run-on sentence to me. By the time I get to that place, there is a part of me saying, "Don't turn away yet, I'm trying to get somewhere." At the same time, I think there's me, the human, that wants to communicate so much, and me, as an actual person, I really struggle to communicate. I'm probably really obtuse on a good day when I'm in my kitchen. So I try to communicate really clearly in song, but at the same time, I believe song is like an abstract art. I like abstraction. I've even thought about that line but then thought, "Don't go out of your way to make too much sense if it doesn't serve the moment." Allow things to kind of be multi-faceted or have lots of ambiguity in them. I like that [songwriting is] an abstract art. I want [my songs] to live in spaces that aren't mine and minds and hearts that aren't mine, so I have to cherish abstraction on some level. I have that in common with a lot of people, that it's hard to communicate from our deepest wells of what we think and feel. As a writer, I stab away at it.

SILY: I also wanted to ask you about the album art. If I had heard the record first, or picked up the record in a store based on the art and listened later, I'd feel there was a definite contrast between the starkness of it and the lushness of the record. Was that an intentional contrast?

JC: I gave it all to Jesse Harris, a Toronto artist I admire. He has a severity to him. It's like he's carrying a sword. He cuts away everything in his artwork that doesn't need to be there. There's a very severe austerity to his work, and he's deeply funny. I offered him an opportunity to design the record. Lyrically and sonically, it's really detailed and rich, so I sent him the link to the record, and it wasn't too long until he sent me back the door. I was like, "Oh my god, what does it mean?" and then thought, "Okay, yeah, the door, I love it." [The cover] could have been baroque or a whole visual world to match. In that simple gesture, I think we got to go through the door, and from there, it unfolded. I don't want to speak for him, but I remember in the early days when we were designing it, he saw Camelot as a land he was referencing, like on an old board game like Snakes and Ladders, where you never know where you're ending up, where you can fall down and lose everything, or you can keep climbing and get somewhere. He saw it as a hard place to navigate and wanted to convey that, not to make linear sense of it but to know that there's a journey, or that somewhere, someone's trying to get somewhere. I love the door now. I think it's iconic for this particular record. It's so simple.

SILY: Have you performed these songs live?

JC: I'm just starting to. I performed "Lucky #8" a few times a few years ago when I was on tour with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, as well as "Louis". That's when Jeff McMurrich, who co-produced the record with me, heard them, and asked, "What are those run-on sentence songs you were singing?" [laughs] But I haven't played that many shows. I played "Trust" for the first time last week when I was in Halifax. I hadn't ever played it save for when we recorded it. I just started to play "Fractal Canyon". I've never played "Mary Miracle". They're just starting to come around now.

SILY: Is it just as rewarding as an artistic endeavor to bring the songs back down to their bare elements for an audience, as it was to make them in the first place?

JC: Yeah, it's kind of cool to start to get to know them. I've never played "Full Moon in Leo". I think a band is going to start to rehearse for some shows. That will be cool to hear them with a rhythm section and the vocalists. Me playing them solo is tender. It reminds me of where I was when I wrote them, which can be a really weird element of time-travel.

SILY: It puts you in the same headspace as their original inception. Does that help you connect more with the audience?

JC: I think it does. Catching it on these early incarnations is cool for the audience. You're really hearing something more becoming even if it has a recorded version. Years from now, I'll have played "Full Moon in Leo" dozens of dozens of times, and I'm sure it'll be great, but it'll be really cool to hear these songs start to come to life.

SILY: Are you planning on coming to Chicago?

JC: I'd love to! I'd love to come to the States. The UK is popping up, and Canada is popping up, but it's challenging with the visas to get over to the States. I have to trust, and if people want me to come, I always like to go. It just takes a couple of people, a festival or a promoter reaching out, and I can start to piece it together. But I don't have anything planned. It's challenging I can't just pop over [to Detroit]. I had to say no to a couple shows a couple weeks ago because they would have put me in that region. But it was last-minute, and these visas are very expensive. They take quite a long time to process, months and months. Hopefully, in 2025, I'll come to the States. It would seem weird not to. We are neighbors. [laughs]

SILY: Is there anything else next in the short or long-term for you?

JC: I'm just gonna be trying to get these [songs] up and running to tour. I have a couple shows coming up for the Winter Solstice I play every year. In terms of writing, just a little bit. I'm not taking a break, but I'm focusing more on how to present this music.

SILY: Is there anything you've been listening to, watching, or reading that's caught your attention or inspired you?

JC: I'm sure there has, but I can't really think of it right now. I'm mostly just getting outside and walking around. But I love my friends and the music they make.

Tour dates

12/20: Tranzac Club, Toronto, ON

12/21: Tranzac Club, Toronto, ON

1/22: The Artesian, Regina, SK

1/23: Handsome Daughter, Winnipeg, MB

1/24: TBD, Saskatoon, SK

1/25: CKUA Radio Performance Hall, Edmonton, AB

1/26: The Palomino, Calgary, AB

2/13: The Globe, Cardiff, UK*

2/14: St Luke’s Church at Queens Park, Brighton, UK*

2/15: EartH, London, UK*

2/16: Hare & Hounds, Birmingham, UK*

2/17: St Mary’s Creative Space, Chester, UK*

*with Jake Xerxes Fussell

[justamonkeyonautopilot]

Can't remember if it was last year or the year before I did this or both. But yesterday on my way to work I saw that Apple has already shared their Replay 2024 list. So I'm going to post it here to see if it has changed any by December. As once again I'm curious. I also noticed through this that some of the songs listed on here I have only listened to once so I have no clue how they generate these lists. Some I understand they're on there from the dance show back in February because I'd play them on repeat to practice.

Here we go then:

Texas Hold 'Em - Beyonce

Anatomy - Kenzie

Feminine Rage - Peggy

The Code - Nemo

A Bar Song (Tipsy) - Shaboozey

Stick Season - Noah Kahan

Marameo - Alessandra

I Choose Violence - Jax

Houdini - Eminem

Austin (Boots Stop Workin') - Dasha

90s Kids - Jax

The Me I Was - Kenzie

Sos - Soap

Heather On The Hill - Nathan Evans

Seventeen - Marina and The Diamonds

Born This Way - Lady Gaga

Get the Party Started - P!nk

Disconnect - Becky Hill & Chase & Status

Attention - Todrick Hall

As Long As You're There - Stuart Matthew Price (Carrie Hope Fletcher and Oliver Ormson)

Hayloft II - Mother Mother

Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi

Sail - Awolnation

A Song For Chelsea - Jax

Where Do All The Good Kids Go? - Maddie Zahm

Lost On You - LP

Naughty - Matilda Movie Soundtrack

Beautiful Things - Benson Boone

Anybody Have A Map? - Dear Evan Hansen

Something Just Like This - The Chainsmokers & Coldplay

Join Us For A Bite - JT Music

Kang Kang Kang (DJ) - Half Ton Brothers

The Gambler - Kenny Rogers

Dance With Me Tonight - Olly Murs

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da - The Beatles

Gangsta's Paradise - Coolio

Whistle (While You Work It) - Katy Tiz

Ava - Natalie Jane

Airplanes - B.o.B.

Found A Way - Drake Bell

I Just Can't Wait To Be King - The Lion King

Freedom - Pharrell Williams

Like My Father - Jax

Girl In The Mirror - Megan Moroney

W.I.T.C.H. - Devon Cole

The Room Where It Happened - Hamilton

Proud Mary - Tina Turner

I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers

You'll Be Back - Hamilton

Youngblood - 5 Seconds of Summer

Wasn't Expecting That - Jamie Lawson

Hit The Road Jack - 2WEI & Bri Bryant

I Say No - Heathers

Bang Bang - Jessie J, Ariana Grande & Nicki Minaj

I Got Up - Overnight Lows

Pretty Devil - Alessandra

Working For The Company - Willy Moon

We On Top - Photronique & Shari Short

Pretty Little Black-Eyed Suzie - Guy Mitchell

21 Reasons - Nathan Dawe

Stargazing - Myles Smith

Below The Surface - Griffinilla

Kiss An Angel Good Morning - Charley Pride

Barry and Freda - Victoria Wood

Circle The Drain - Katy Perry

I Kind of Relate - Drake Bell

Helium - Sia

Teir Abhaile Riu - Celtic Woman

Bring Him Home - Ramin Karimloo

One Day More - The 2020 Les Miserables Staged Concert Company

I'm Not Here To Make Friends - Sam Smith

Dark Horse - Katy Perry

Don't Forget - Demi Lovato

It's Goin' Down - Descendants

I Do Not Hook Up - Kelly Clarkson

Break The Ice - Britney Spears

Candyman - Christina Aguilera

Vampire - Olivia Rodrigo

Hey Mama - David Guetta

Karma - JoJo Siwa

Beat Again - JLS

I Think I'm In Love - Kat Dahlia

Diva - Beyonce

Paint The Town Red - Doja Cat

We No Speak Americano - Yolanda Be Cool & DCUP

Boyfriend - Alphabeat

Get Stupid - Aston Merrygold

I Put A Spell On You - Annie Lennox

Let Me Down Slowly - Alex Benjamin

Can't Be Tamed - Miley Cyrus

They Just Keep Moving The Line - Carrie Hope Fletcher

Kings & Queens - Ava Max

Achy Breaky Heart - Billy Ray Cyrus

She Likes - Forever the Sickest Kids

Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

The Hanging Tree - Rachel Zegler

Hound Dog - Elvis Presley

42nd Street - 42nd Street

La Vecinita - Don Omar

You Matter To Me - Carrie Hope Fletcher

(After going through them again, I genuinely don't remember listening to half of them anytime recently - it's not that I don't listen to music either I have a playlist I play in the car when I'm driving and the songs off that aren't on this list)

[nookishposts]

Love Is

Somewhere between Disney and acne we are led to believe that love is a constantly shiny thing, that it must be unrelentingly romantic and sexy and full of passion and purple prose. Of course there are moments, especially in the courtship days when we work extra hard at being our best selves in an effort to be desirable. Its a mating game as old as forever and unlikely to change in spite of dating apps. Its fed by the marketing trends of the day as we become convinced that we must cover our natural selves in deceptive augmentations that cost a bundle and are soon yesterday's news. Don't get me wrong, I did my share of blow-dry styling, body scents, and boots shined to mirrors. It was fun to play the part, be obvious in the flirt, laugh through deliberate double-entendres. Lust was luscious.

Part of the privilege of getting older is letting go of the clutter on all levels. Its not a lack of effort to let things be simpler, it's self-awareness and self-preservation. I love to dance but the volume in public places means I cannot hear you when you speak , and frankly I know you have things to say. I am in your company because I enjoy who you are and I chose you to share the dance with me. Whooping it up at a wedding is one thing, but I can't do the clubs just for the sake of a night out. I did my time.

I'd rather go for a walk, maybe hold hands, and look at the sky together.

I love you in your faded jeans with a bit of bed-head and a deep sigh when you take your first sip of morning tea.

I love to have that tea brewing because I am usually up first.

Love is clean fresh flannel sheets on a cold Winter's night. Its putting seeds into the soil and topping up the washer fluid in your car. Its knowing when to shut up. Its eye-rolling from across the aisle at the grocery store when the poor kid at the cash register has never been properly taught how to make change. Its enduring the oldies radio station on Sunday mornings and still missing Stuart McLean's Vinyl Cafe.

Love is being safe in one of you making some decisions for two. Love is reminding me that yoga pants and slippers are really not fit public attire even for the gas station. Love is allowing one another to play to their strengths and being the best cheerleader when it comes to admitting and fixing mistakes as well as celebrating the victories. Love is understanding that time apart is still love.

You want to get my interest? Ask me to dance in the living room, apropos of nothing. Ask me to stand beside you when you do something that scares you. Let me hold you when you're not even sure what's making you feel blue. Laugh at your own jokes...that makes me remember how nuts I am about you because you don't hold back in your quirks. Remind me tactfully when its time to get a haircut. Trust me to drive while you knit socks in the passenger seat.

Love is a long game where the goal posts are apt to shift along with age and bumps in the turf and worrisome side-liners. Its also forgiveness for forgetfulness, and the magnetism of shared memory.

Love is one dessert and two forks.

[sublimeobservationarcade]

Downward Envy: What Kind Of Australian Indulges In That?

Hands up who has heard of the term ‘downward envy’? Yes, this is the name for all those Aussies who think that everyone on welfare is a dole bludger. These people reckon that there are too many folk having a good time on less than $50 a day. You could not even pay your rent in Australia on that, let alone eat. Downward envy: What kind of Australian indulges in that? Bitter and twisted miserable bastards comes to mind. Unhappy people wanting to apportion blame onto others, also, springs to mind in this case.

“As a student of John Howard, Peter Dutton was always going to focus his budget reply speech on how middle Australia is missing out, in the hope that there are enough Howard battlers still around to appreciate the throwback. In this line of attack on the government’s priorities, he’s getting help from some sections of the press gallery. At his National Press Club address the day after the budget was handed down, Treasurer Jim Chalmers took a question from Sky News political editor Andrew Clennell. “With unemployment at three and a half per cent, it seems in the vast majority of cases, if you want a job, you can get a job,” began Clennell. “So why do people on the dole get more money from the government out of this budget, but not a household on more than $160k a year who, for example, don’t get the electricity bill relief? What do you say to those working full time about why those on the dole get relief, but they don’t?” Won’t somebody think of the couple on $160,000 a year?” - (https://www.themonthly.com.au/the-politics/daniel-james/2023/05/12/downward-envy)

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Robodebt & Downward Envy

Weak scumbags who like putting the boot into those who can’t fight back is another identifying attribute here, I reckon. The Robodebt debacle was fuelled by downward envy and the Coalition of the Liberals and Nationals in government fed on it. Scott Morrison, that great liar who led the nation, was a driving force in the Robodebt shameful betrayal of vulnerable Australians. Tony Abbott, Stuart Robert, Alan Tudge, and Marissa Payne all had their grubby paws on it as well. Plus, a bunch of shameless senior bureaucrats who would have licked the s*** from the sewer if asked to and for their plump pay packets.

Nothing To See Here Your Honour

Lest we forget, people actually died on the back of the disgraceful and unlawful imposition of debts upon them. Oh yeah, and it cost the Australian tax payers $1.8 billion for the massive stuff up it was. Did any of these movers and shakers even say they were sorry? No. Nobody was responsible apparently – it kind of just happened by itself apparently. Bloody amazing how these politicians and senior public servants conveniently go missing when they are handing out blame and the s*** sandwiches. The Robodebt welfare cops were suddenly on holiday during the Royal Commission and ducked the arse smacking from the judge.

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com Treasurer Jim Chalmers noted: He cited comments by Taylor “that what worried him about our changes in social security was that it meant that the broader Australian community would be funding help for the most vulnerable”. “That is the whole basis of social security,” Chalmers said, to applause in Parliament House’s great hall, packed with ministers, department heads, chief executives and advocates who had called for increases in welfare. “And I think that our country is better, frankly, than the kind of downward envy that we hear about from time to time from people like Angus Taylor. - (https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2023/may/10/jim-chalmers-accuses-coalition-of-downward-envy-as-dutton-refuses-to-commit-to-jobseeker-increase-in-budget)

Downward Envy & Keeping The Abos In Their Place Peter Dutton is The Grand Poo Bah of the downward envy club in Australia. Old skull, Voldemort himself, is forever ready with a dog whistle for the racist mob and their bitter hate for Indigenous Australia. It is never enough that institutional neglect and racist behaviours have dogged First Nations people in this country for hundreds of years. No, the Coalition of miserable scumbags is dedicated to keeping them in their place at the bottom of the wealth ladder. Closing the gap won’t be happening anytime soon on their watch. Cheap shots at Linda Burney for the way she speaks. Jibes and thinly disguised insults thrown at Aboriginals for being bludgers. Downward envy bubbles over on the stove for this lot.

Sky News Australia, Fox & Downward Envy Sky News Australia is where Rupert Murdoch has coalesced all the smug, ugly, and selfish attributes of Australians into one, hopefully, cash inspiring place. Fox News is his American cash cow, where he feeds on the rabid right wing audience over there. The thing about right wing news is that it doesn’t even bother being objective. Telling lies is par for the course and the dumber the BS the better for the alt right. Successfully sued for a billion dollars for misleading the public over Dominion’s role in the 2020 presidential election Fox News is so far from being a trusted source of news it is a sick joke. Donald Trump the compulsive liar is the pied piper of fake news on Fox. Murdoch and the Trump machine go around sucking billions of dollars out of a deluded audience hellbent on believing anything that fits into their own uber partisan view of the world. Downward envy even gets a guernsey over there with African Americans in the ghettoes getting a free ride wherever they are going, according to the shock jocks and motor mouths on Fox and Sky News Australia. Yes, Blacks deserve the hundreds of years of slavery and the decades of Black Codes locking them up and continuing peonage slavery for the state in the south until 1942. Race was criminalised in America and still is with a veritable industry keeping African Americans incarcerated and working in prisons as free labour for states and corporations to this day. It is big business in the US of A.

Downward envy is like having the telescope the wrong way around. Peering down into the lives of the poor and benighted and giving them a hard time for their troubles. This is the Murdoch, Trump, and Dutton stratagem. Blame those below you on the economic ladder for their self-begotten woes – that way your own greed and self-serving attitudes don’t ever come into question. Middle Australia has never been wealthier, despite the fact that landlords and corporations are feasting on the inflated fat of the land. But don’t blame the rich because you aspire to that position yourselves. Blame the poor, the homeless and the unemployed instead. Welcome to modern Australia in the 21C. Robert Sudha Hamilton is the author of Money Matters; Navigating Credit, Debt, and Financial Freedom.  ©MidasWord Read the full article

[inner-visionz]

Magic City (2d x autistic transboy reader)

Morning after part 2

Start from the beginning

"Anyway, not that I don't enjoy your company but don't you have somewhere to be?" 

My eyes go wide. "Uhh yeah I should go home". I begin to stand up by y/n stops me.

"Stuart your shoes are untied" 

"Fuck uhh"

"..Do you need someone to tie them?" 

"How did you know?"

She sits me back down then gets on one knee and starts to tie them. "You told me last night Murdoc would tie them. You forget how to sometimes, which is understandable you got hit with a car".  

I'm baffled and don't know what to say besides stuttering, "I-I uh told you th-that much?". Not so charming on my part. I mentally slap myself for saying it.  God,Murdoc is right, I am an idiot.

"You told me a lot mate, but dont beat yourself up about it. I still think you're cool", she says tying the last knot and standing up in front of me.

"Thank you", I look down at my shoes she just tied and start to tear up. It made me think of Murdoc and how I miss him. The more I think about it the more tears run down my cheeks. No no, stop it you don't miss him. I feel her pull my head to her stomach and run her fingers through my hair.

"You're okay, please don't cry", she says in a gentle hushed voice. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around her. She continues to run her fingers through my hair to soothe me. "Feel better? or I mean Feel Good? heh, im sorry bad timing". 

I can't help but chuckle at her terrible joke as I let go of her. "It's fine luv. Yes I do feel good. I feel good Inc. actually. You know that's the name of the song not just feel good"

"Are you calling me a fake fan?" 

I look at her confused. "You can't be a fan, you're a human not something with blades that cools people down. Even so you can't be fake"

She laughs a little. "No, I mean a fan as in a fan of the band". 

My face flusters up realizing my stupid mistake. "Oh...yeah, sorry"

She laughs. "Its okay, its kinda cute. In a weird sort of way, I mean the circumstances was awful and im sure its not fun for you..eh I'll stop talking". 

"Im glad you like to ramble too," I smile up at her as reassurance. 

She nods. "Umm I'll see you later then?". 

"Oh right", I stand up from my chair then wave her goodbye before heading out the door. 

Two weeks later

9:00 pm finally rolls around. I have on a plain grey t-shirt with faded jeans and black boots. If (y/n) can see me while I'm ugly crying and drunk then this should be fine. I grab my phone before walking to the front room.

Noodle is sitting on the couch and looks up from her book. "Going back Toochi?"

I stop at the door to look at her. "Uh, yeah I am".

"You've been going back every night and Ace said you met someone. When are we going to meet her?" she teases with a smile. 

"Oh uhhh I don't know see ya later Noodle!" I say before rushing out the door. It's not like we're dating or anything. I don't even like her I mean yeah she's really nice, comforting, a good listener, really pretty, beautiful, soft....

Okay maybe I like her a little bit.

I brush the thought off as I walk into Magic City. I'm greeted with bopping music with pink and red lights blinding me. 

I walk up to the manager and ask for (y/n).

" Yes, follow me she'll be with you in just a moment," she tells me as she leads me to a booth. As we're walking I spot (y/n) with a client. It is painfully obvious that she's flirting. I know it's her job so I'm not bent out of shape about it. Still it stings. 

"Here you go, just sit tight" she said before leaving me alone in the red velvet booth. 

I sit down and wait for (y/n).

About 10 minutes later she comes in and upon seeing my face she brightens up. She sits on my lap like she did before. 

"You will not believe the night I've had". She starts. "People kept touching me even though you're not supposed to. It wasn't anything too bad but it gets annoying not to mention people asking about dates and ugghhh," she groans.

"Sounds like you've had a rough day luv," I reply.

"Tell me about it, so how was your day?"

"Eh we 'ave our tour dates scheduled we're going around the world"

"Ohh sounds fun, oh I guess you'll be gone a while huh?" she said her voice kinda sad at the last part. 

"Well we won't be leaving for a while and I have a question"

"oh? What's that?'

"Well just to add to your ever growing list of men that have asked you out, I'd like to add my name to the list and ask if you wanted to go on a date with me?"