#reading beatle books you can see who hasn’t noticed

[torchlitinthedesert]

There’s something very strange about Paul’s usual “how John and I started writing” narrative. Here’s how he likes to describe it:

Me and John knowing each other, the fact that both of us independently had already started to write little songs... I said to him, “What’s your hobby?” I said, “I like songwriting,” and he said, “Oh, so do I.” You know, no one I’d ever met had ever said that as a reply. And we said, “Well, why don’t you play me yours and I��ll play you mine.” GQ, 2020

It’s my impression that this is now in the rotation of Paul Stories - I think he says it in McCartney 3,2,1, and in other interviews. Is it true? The earliest accounts contradict it:

“Paul’s first public performance, as a member of the Quarrymen, was at a dance… later on, after the dance, he played a couple of tunes to John he had written himself. Since he’d started playing the guitar, he had tried to make up a few of his own little tunes. The first tune he played to John that evening was called ‘I Lost My Little Girl’. Not to be outdone, John immediately started making up his own tunes.”

Hunter Davies, The Beatles, 1968

“‘I learned a lot from Paul. He taught me quite a lot of guitar really. He knew more about how to play than I did and he showed me a lot of chords. I’d been playing the guitar like a banjo so I had to learn it again. I didn’t write much material early on, less than Paul, because he was quite competent on guitar. I started to write after Paul did a song he’d written.’”

John Lennon to Ray Connolly, unpublished interview, 1970*

"He used to write songs before I even started writing songs."

John Lennon, St Regis interview, 1971

*[The Connolly quote is weaker as a source, because was published after John’s death (and he quotes it slightly differently: “I started to write after Paul did a song he’d written” is in Connolly’s John biography, but not in the version in his collected Beatle journalism). But it fits with the other accounts.]

Still, Paul’s version might have some truth in it. Mark Lewisohn cites a couple of 1971 interviews where John remembers trying to write a calypso song, tapping into a brief craze of spring 1957. I don’t know if he finished it, or told anyone about it. None of the Quarrymen mention it, while Pete Shotton told Bob Spitz that John was “floored” when Paul first played him one of his own songs. But the calypso story does make “so do I” seem more possible.

It’s still surprising that Paul wants to frame it this way. He’d be justified in pointing out that songwriting was his innovation, something he brought to the band. By any measure, he’s the one who started it: when he met John, he’d already written the melody of When I'm 64, plus Suicide and I Lost My Little Girl. And he was always prolific. As John told David Sheff, talking about I’ll Follow The Sun, “he had a lot of stuff”, “written almost before the Beatles, I think.” He was the one pushing to do their own material, whether that’s talking it up to music promoters or suggesting In Spite of All The Danger at their first amateur recording session. (To me, that suggests that Lennon-McCartney was established later than they tended to admit. In Spite of All The Danger, recorded in 1958, has George as cowriter; if Paul had written anything with John, I bet that's what he'd have suggested they record. And if John on his own had written something that was ready to record, they’d definitely have picked that. )

In the 1950s, writing your own material was groundbreaking: it’s part of the huge cultural shift into the 1960s. There were hundreds of skiffle/rock’n’roll bands in Liverpool, but it’s genuinely possible that Paul was the only songwriter among them. Why isn’t that the story he wants to tell?

When Paul started defending his legacy in the late 1980s, he was fighting against specific distortions. First, that he was the middle-of-the-road conservative one - which is why he lays out his avant garde credentials. So you’d think he’d want to remind everybody that he wrote songs first. But second, he’s up against the idea that he and John didn’t love each other, that they didn’t write together, that Lennon-McCartney was a myth. Paul is a rock star, with an ego to match; he’s not given to downplaying himself. But he wants the partnership more than he wants precedence, even more than he wants credit for innovation.

And he always did. Remember the story about John sharing half his chocolate bar? Paul joined the band, and shared half his songs.

He didn’t need to: he was already writing alone. If he wanted help, George was more musically accomplished, and would have been a more logical choice for a songwriting partner. But it's John whose attention and praise Paul needed, John who had the authority to say they’d play Paul’s songs, John who needed to feel like the most important person in the band. Becoming Lennon-McCartney formalises all of that. And Paul is still true to it.

Across decades, Paul has been consistent about promoting their partnership as a partnership, regardless of who did what. (This isn’t true of John, who by the late 1960s was eager to break down who wrote which song, which lyric, which middle eight.) After working with George Martin on the string arrangement for Yesterday, Paul signed the score: “"Yesterday" by Paul McCartney John Lennon George Martin Esq and Mozart.” Even as a joke, you don’t separate Lennon and McCartney. Ken Mansfield asked Paul why songs were “Lennon-McCartney” when John hadn’t been there for the writing process:

And Paul said: “John and I are so close to each other, we’ve been through so much together, we understand each other so much, our relationship is so deep, that when we’re songwriting,” he said, “even if I’m 6,000 miles away, I can be working on something and I can hear John over my shoulder going, ‘No, no, no, that’s not gonna work; why don’t we do this?’ Or ‘Hey, I like this.’” He said, “So, in essence, to me, we’re songwriting together even if we’re not together.”

Ken was asking about Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, not realising that John was there for that one: they worked on it in India. But rather than giving a practical answer, Paul chooses to frame the partnership as a profound connection. (Of course there are other times Paul insists on or overstates his contribution, or gets petty about who did what. He’s human, and he’s an egomaniac. But always, always within the framework that this was a partnership.)

Fundamentally, he’s loyal to Lennon-McCartney. “So do I” matters more to him than going first. It might not be literally true, but it's the emotional truth that he needs.

[romanticly-yours]

100 questions abt me:

1. What is your best friends name? I don’t have one

2. Year you were born in? 2011

3. What are you listening to right now?  Lucy In The Sky With Dimonds by The Beatles

4. Whats your favorite number? 7

5. What was the last thing you ate? Cake

6. If you were a crayon what color would you be? Purple

7. How is the weather right now? Cold

8. Who was the last person you talked 2 on the phone?  My godfathers

9. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Hair

10. Do you have a significant other? In my dreams

11. Favorite TV show? Daria

12. Siblings? 2

13. Height? 5'1

14. Hair color? brown

15. Eye Color? Brown

16. Do you wear contacts? no

17. Favorite Holiday? Ieroween

18. Month? June

19. Have you ever cried for no reason? Ofc

20. What was the last movie you watched? Twighlight

21. Favorite Day of the Year? halloween 

22. Favorite season? fall

23. Fav anime? Ouran Highschool Host Club

24. Hugs or Kisses? I’ve Never Been Kissed™ but I’d love to have cheek kissed over hugs

25. Chocolate or Vanilla? vanilla

26. Do you read? Ofc

27. Fav fanfic trope? Older brother of best friend

28. Fandoms you're in? MCR, FOB, PATD, Paramore

29. What books are you reading? The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

30. Piercings? ears

31. Favorite movies? The Perks Of Being A Wallflower or Almost Famous

32. Fav song rn? Gypsy-Fleetwood Mac

33. What were u doing before this? Tumblr

34. Butter, Plain or Salted popcorn? Butter

37. Dogs or cats? both

38. Favorite flower? Roses

39. Been caught doing something you weren't supposed to do? who hasn’t

40. Do you have a best friend of the opposite sex? I used too

41. Have you ever loved someone? Yeah

42. Who would you like to see right now? DamonFizzy or GWay

43. Pizza or tacos? Pizza

44. Pronouns? She/her

45. Do you like to travel by plane? No

46. Right-handed or Left-handed? right

47. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2

48. Are you missing someone? Yes

49. Do you have a Tattoo? No

50. Anybody on myspace that you'd go on a date with? No

51. Do you usually sleep with your closet door open or closed? If it’s open I don’t bother closing it

52. Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotels? Yes

53. Do you use neos? No

54. Do you have a typing quirk? Yes, sadly

55. Have you ever stolen a street sign before? No but my dad has, I want too

56. Who do you think reads these? me!!

57. Spotify or Apple music?  Apple Music bcz my dad pays 4 it

58. Where are you? my bed

59. What's your plan for the day? sleep, school, shower

60. Do you ever count your steps when you walk? No

61. Do you chew your pens and pencils? Yes

62. Is it okay for guys to wear pink? Yes

63. What do you dip Chicken Nuggets in? Sweat n sour soucs

64. Last person you hugged/kissed? My mom

65. Were you ever a boy/girl scout? No

66. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? Monday

67. Are you lazy? Yes

68. Are you stubborn? Yes

69. Who is better...Markiplier or Jack? I never watched either of them

70. Are you neurodivergent? never diagnosed

71. Afraid of heights? yes

72. Do you think musicals are cheesy? yes but I’m still in theatre so

73. Is Christmas stressful? yes

74. Coke or pepsi? Pepsi

75. Major annoyance right now? My cds are at my grandmas in a different city

76. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? Vet

77. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes

78. Ever have a deja-vu feeling? All the time

79. Do you take a medication daily? My iron medication

80. Wear slippers? no

81. What do you wear to bed? comfy clothes idk

82. OTP 4ever? i still don’t know what otp means

83. Worst fandom you been in? Danganronpa

84. Cheetos Or Doritos? Cheetos, the skinny ones

85. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? Sunflower seeds

86. Ever hear of, "dn"? Deez nuts

87. Ever taken martial arts? no

88. Hair up or down? down

89. Can you curl your tongue? Yes

90. Tiktok or vine? Musically

91. Ever cried because you were so happy? Probably

92. Minecraft or Roblox? Idk

93. Did you have a gacha-life phase? Yes

94. Regularly burn incense? What

95. Ever been in love? Yes

96. Hot tea or cold tea? sweet tea !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

97. What type of kid were you? I was always the weird kid, I still am

98. Are you silly or goofy? goofy forsure

99. Milfs or Dilfs? no

100. What type of mom are you? I haven’t even had my first boyfriend yet

[rhaenyraisadyke]

It's been a year! Transcript: 8/3/21 Here is also a google doc of the transcript if that is easier to read!

*Starts out with happy birthday on a guitar playing*

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthdayyyy to meee, Happy Birthday to me

*Drinks a swig of alcohol*

Ah. Yeah it’s my birthday today, which um seems odd, it doesn't feel like i've been here that long… but I have. Cheers everyone uh. I realise I haven't really done much in a while.

I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed, put out this cake I made three months ago and uh, that's kind of been it, but yeah… I don’t think I’ve left this room in 80 days. About 80 days… How long is 80 days? I- I- that's a lot of months… that's been a long time… Also my vision just went black, I’ve been drinking a lot, um this is that possibly catching up with me um please return vision, I’d really like for it to be back, well I can hear things so at least i'm not deaf ya know? The lord has kept my hearing but I am blind, no um yep there we go.

I decided to get dressed up as well. I figured that would be nice, ya know? I’m pretty sure I was part of them back when I joined, so.. .I don't know if it felt like it made sense to dress up again. Um, fucking hell, I have not cleaned. *sighs* I’ll be honest, in the time I was gone, not very… not very much has happened, uh, it turns out you need customers to support a hotel, and I don’t know about you guys but I haven't seen one on this place for a pretty long while. So uh, basically what I’m saying is… the big jack manifold hasn't been going too hot, god, you don’t provide these guys with food for eighty days and they all go bones and evil.

LEAVE out you bard, you-

The point is, very little has been done here for quite awhile, and um I haven't been outside or seen anyone, and I- I didn't’ finish the pub. Um, you may be asking me, “but jack wasn't that the only thing you were working towards? I know but with the failure of the hotel, I kind of realised that again pubs also rely on customers and the very limited people on this server, as we can all see it really ah um, well it didn’t seem very fruitful. So um, we're kinda just here, living here rent free ever since we claimed this place… I actually don’t know who pays the rent.. Maybe Tommy still does um. I Don't know- anyway since I’ve been here for a year and I haven't really looked around in three months, I thought we would go and look around at everything that we once saw, you know?

I must admit the investment of the alcohol from the pub has been the only thing keeping-.. I shouldn't say that, let's not speak about that part. Yeah it turns out that this place, look I haven't been outside in eighty days and I think maybe since I’ve been here for a year I can go back and have a look around at everything. And um as I said I dressed up for the occasion, so um you know… lets see what's changed hmmm?

Anyway let's walk around shall we? Well this didn’t change, we still got mcpuffys here. Hehe, no one noticed my balls sign hehe, no one noticed, I forgot about this, no one noticed I replaced whatever the original one was with balls in hope they wouldn't notice and they didn't. Ahh that's good, I like that. Anyway, there's the duck and Ponk’s tower that seem pretty much the same.

This looks different, this was a hole.. Who are you? Alright? You know we are the only two people on the server right now? (talking to shroud) This basically means we gotta become friends. So.. tell me about yourself.. Sir? Madam? Shroud, alright. Oh Ohhh I stole some of these! Did I ever give them back? Whoops, oh well. Ahh, it's been quiet without him ya know tommy. I’ll be honest, theres been very little to do, with him gone, um, the fuck did ninjas house go? Why does it look like a very small mcdonalds?

Right, this tower, this seems pretty much the same. Does the sewer still exist? Hm oh wait does it not? What ohh no what happened to the sewers? Aw, there was a whole sewer system out there one time and oh wow. Why is there no longer a sewer there? Wait oH OH it is down here!

One of the first things I remember is me tommy and tubbo and quackity, before he even joined and was still in juvy we, hehe, we did a little heist on everyone and we stole the poo machines and stole everything and then we had a little room, and it was here and we stole the phantom membranes. It was a good time, it was a good time, I liked that and then ah there had only been one war. It's crazy to think there's been more, I thought we’d figure it out the first time, you know? It was fun. And we were called the beatles. Either way yeah.

Why the fuck is half of this place beatroots? Why are half of these beetroots and the other half potatoes? Why is it all farm?? Why? Why is it beats? Wait where did gay target go? Why is there just a beacon here? At least there's huts pizza. Employee of the first two days, of dunderbeatlin… the fuck is dunderbeatlin? What's this? Why are there new things? I know it's been eighty days but why?

This is the L’manburg museum, bearing in mind I'm dressed like this I should go see it.

Oh! It's like different things. This is like the community house, okay that's cool and that's the egg.. This is a replica it won't hurt you… oh it doesn't it won't actually hurt you. I guess they remade that shit. What even happened with that thing? I remember it tried to possess me once and then I bathed in the holy water and I was good again. Oh wow it's like a map of the whole server and there's egg gunk. And then and then and then here.. Where am I? Oh… is that lmanburg? Where is lmanburg? Oh wait oh yeah yeah wait I forgot…. Oh…. yeah….. Um….heh yeah….

OH its the lmanburg walls! I remember tearing them down and rebuilding them a lot and the hotdog van! Does it have the declaration in it? No it doesn't… It is blue. Ohhh…… I joined the day after this (the final control room) God, it's been a whole year since then… What's this? Wait… I feel like there's missing lines here. I don’t know if sorry, you know? Oh, look here, oh it just says i'm sorry. (erets apology book) I’m not all that sure that sorry quite cuts that. What's this? Oh this looks unfinished. Oh here's a map of old lmanburg! OH that's ze house! Before… I burnt it down and decided I wasn't gonna have manifold land anymore.. I miss that, I miss lmanburg.

It was a lot easier to dream when we were friends. Everyone feels so distant now but maybe that's because I haven't seen them, maybe that didn't help I mean no one came to say hi to me. Oh, oh, my main takeaway was that, wait it's not glass anymore, it's like a cavern, it was glass the last time I was there, it's changed since I was here to remember what happened… Why does it look like this? Hmm I don't know. Ah this was my cove, and it was untouched until I burnt it down fuck you.

Oh and theres my secret base that I never finished, FUCK YOU - fuck I hate him, anyway… oh there's the big obsidian bridge, oh isn't this where tommy was exiled? Over this way? I think… That means it was somewhere along here that… wait no it was right here… right? We turned on these stairs, stepped down, and pretty sure it was right here… he dug this.. I don’t think I want to visit this place. I want to go back, this isn't really where I want to be.

Anyway um, I wonder if Snowchester has changed. Lets go visit, okay um, that's weird that's freshly planted. Let's head over to Snowchester its that way. Since when was Tubbos' house back? Didn’t Tommy burnt it down? I swear this got burnt down.. I remember the ruins of it, there was a nether tree farm then in it… anyway…. Let's go check out fundys place. I haven't seen him in FOREVER. The last time I saw him was the last war… the day… the last war… WHY ARE THERE BIG MUSEUM THINGS EVERYWHERE??

Where's fundys house? I built it. I remember building it as a prank and then he liked it and lived in it.. Where's my tower? It was here next to the fox, his little fox hole… my towers were gone, it was definitely here, it was a million percent here and it was right next to it. It was somewhere there was a button it had a button. There was a big sign made out of obsidian…

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve been pretty purposeless for the past eight days… what the fuck? That's a HOLE. That's a big ass hole! That wasn't always there?! When did a hole show up?? There's a HOLE in my hotel!! I'm trying not to lose my cool and you know when I go the day that I joined, and the first person that greeted me was tommyinnit and still, I wish, I just wish someone logged in and said “hey jack happy one year” and I try to build them a pub and one of these *drinks a swig of alcohol* I mean at least..

Every time….. Everything here and how come it's all the things I care about that get blown up? Lmanburg… Manifold Land- Well I did manifold land but I was pissed off - Everything I care about on this server gets blown up, or destroyed or taken advantage of or.. Betrays me, that happens a lot. I’m not sure if I wanna be here anymore.

I’m not sure if I want to have anything to do with this… maybe that's it. Maybe that's it. What does this place bring? What does this place bring? Ever since I have been part of the “Dream SMP” Things are given to me that are eventually taken or destroyed, friends leave, DEATH, not everyone has died on the server and come back to life admittedly, I have now but the point is, I AM VERY DEFINITE I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS SERVER ANYMORE… Alright? Almost everyone that has promised me something has turned their back. Almost everyone. The last thing anyone said to me was “Ah when las nevadas comes about, we will have a deal jack.. I’ll make it big” Yeahh.. .he really brought a lot of business. How's Las Nevadas doing?? Because when I HEARD it would be done and bring me customers, surely not another person would give me false hope.

Tubbos was the only one I can trust, Tubbo and Niki. I know Niki has become an anarchist or whatever but at least she's happy, and Tubbo was always kind.

I think Las Nevadas is somewhere over here. Let's go look at how “done it is” and how ready for business they are… Looking PRETTY finished for me. Big sign, big building, nice roads. Looking pretty… done. Pretty ready for a business deal. Isn't that a shocker… Isn't it weird yet again that someone promised me something and it fell through again?

So FUCK IT I don’t wana see Snowchester, I dont want to see anything, My WHOLE TIME on this server has been doing things for other people and fighting peoples wars, right? Keeping up hotels and pubs for people to stay, trying to kill people at worst that wasnt me and fighting for them. I haven't done anything for myself. ANYTHING AT ALL. And I said the hotel was for me and look where it got me- in a room for 80 days and a giant bottle of cider I have yet to finish- so fuck it! I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. The “DREAM SMP” I’m gonna go out and start my own thing. I’m gonna call it the “Dream SSP” survival single player because I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. Alright?

The day Tommy died, I said I was done with manifold land because the only thing it ever stood for was trying to get rid of him, and although it was also about getting back at him, it was about other people, but this time, I have something new in mind, something completely different…

NEW Manifold land will not cater to anyone else, not fight for anyone else, to I don’t know be anything for anyone else really. New Manifold land will stick very strictly to the name and persist of purely Jack Manifold, and I might steal Godzilla back from Tubbo (his arctic fox). Because as much as I said Niki was kind and Tubbo was kind, where they been the past 80 days? No one came to the hotel. No one came looking for me to which point, I say I’m gonna find myself my own little place. I’m just gonna live. I’m gonna do what I want, the only thing is, I need to find an area of my own, we need to travel. So let's get moving hmm?

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 3 of Season 1

“Extra Ordinary”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ 

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ First off I’d like to say that this is one of my favorite episodes of this season. It’s just soooo good

☂ The second comic book in the window features the Televator from the actual comics, so that has to be canon in the show! Also at the time that that second comic came out, Five had already left since we don’t see him on the cover

☂ It’d be cool if they actually printed Vanya’s book for fans to read

☂ Well Diego isn’t wrong when he called Hazel and Cha Cha animals because of their masks

☂ Honestly I feel Vanya’s struggle with chair placement. I’ve fortunately had the luck of playing in all three clarinet chair placements, but 1st chair is challenging. I personally found each placement very fun to play, especially 3rd, and I hope Vanya does too! (why am I talking like she’s real)

☂ Hazel talks about people living ordinary lives, but didn’t he live like that too at one point? How does The Commission recruit people? If they get ordinary people, do they wipe their memories of their previous lives?

☂ “Let’s see’em get out from behind their desks, get their hands dirty for once.” Well Hazel, Five does indeed do this even though he only had a desk job for a day. Still, he got to experience both worlds

☂ My mind is blanking on this, but how did Five get that cut on his arm? Was it from a bullet wound at Gimbel’s? 

☂ Five must have a high pain tolerance to stitch his own wound but his bandaid probably wouldn’t stick due to the wet blood he slapped it over. Five sweetie you need a cotton pad and gauze for that one

☂ Wait, you’re telling me that The Umbrella Academy boys’ top uniform consists of a tank top, a white dress shirt, a tie, a sweater vest, and then the blazer? Someone asked Reginald what he wanted for the uniforms and he just said “Yes.”

☂ Five: *puts hands in pockets only to immediately take them out*

☂ Aidan almost sounds like he has an accent when he says “I'm done funding your drug habit.” 

☂ Five’s so soft talking to his wife

☂ No Leonard, your bread and butter is being a creep

☂ Also, he thinks wood carving is embarrassing? If someone came up to me and showed me something they carved out of wood I would be so jealous cause it’s such a neat form of art

☂ Leonard saying that he carved wood, and in that case wooden figures, when he was a kid is a slight foreshadow of all of his tampering with his Umbrella Academy figures. He can make wooden figures but he’s also destroyed a handful of the Hargreeves figures 

☂ “Never really did like The Beatles.” Well sir you’ve made me dislike you even more

☂ Vanya asking Allison if her siblings wanted her at the family meeting bugs me a bit. I absolutely get that she was literally left out of anything and everything that had to do with her siblings when she was younger, but Allison just asked her to come back home for a family meeting. Allison wouldn't have walked around looking for Vanya only to tell her that they were having a family meeting and that she wasn’t actually invited. Allison is including her in on a family meeting but Vanya is just in a bit of disbelief that she’s being included

☂ Ah yes, the only PTSD flashback for Five we see in the show! He looks so scared when he snaps out of it. I believe it was somehow triggered by the kids (I could be wrong) but do you think Five sometimes panics when he looks at himself in the mirror now since his body is the same age it was when he got stuck? Also it’s very subtle but when Luther opens the door, Five slightly jerks/flinches back. I wish we would see more of this in the show since it’s one of his major traumas

☂ “Does it matter? It’s Klaus.” Ouch! Well Five I hope you know that your siblings are somewhat thinking the same thing since they believe that you’ve lost your mind and are practically an old man crying “Apocalypse!” 

☂ Five does an ever so slight huff and smirk when Luther tells him that the meeting at the Academy is important. He finds it a little funny but so frustrating in his mind that Luther doesn’t know what’s truly important

☂ Also I love that Aidan has to turn to the side so that he can keep it together after Klaus talks about his chocolate pudding waxing. Either that or he’s portraying Five as being frustrated and in disbelief. Also this is the first time I’ve noticed that he says “Ay, ay ay...” 

☂ “We’re all you have. And you know it.” Oh Luther, you’re failing to see that that’s why he’s acting like this right now. He’s all frantic and crazed about trying to stop the apocalypse so that he can protect and save all that he has

☂ Five certainly is mad at Luther during his mini lecture. He’s clenching his jaw tightly and when he first speaks he hisses out the words through gritted teeth. He even called Luther by his number. He’s very impatient at this point and doesn’t care for Luther’s act of attempting to be a leader

☂ This is their first, and certainly not last, time watching Klaus go by in front of them doing something he shouldn’t be doing

☂ “You haven’t been home in a long time, Vanya.” Sir you were also just on the moon for four years. Yeah Vanya was away for a long time but Grace easily could have changed too during the four years you were gone

☂ How sweet, even though Five hasn’t really been home they want to include him in on the family vote :]

☂ I’ve noticed that in S1 that David really mumbles his lines. A lot

☂ I wish we got more flashbacks of the younger Umbrellas

☂ Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ It’s confusing as to which country TUA takes place in, but it’s really not supposed to be a specific one. It’s portrayed as being in North America, but you can see behind Cha Cha when she gets out of the car at the Academy the flag of the RAF, which Canada would have at a monument since it’s a Commonwealth country. At the same time though Delores came from Gimbels, which was a department store chain across the U.S

☂ The light above Five’s portrait is slightly crooked, which probably means no one has really been paying attention to it

☂ It makes me nervous that Klaus wipes bubbles onto his face. It looks like he got some in his eyes

�� Ugh I love the whole scene of Hazel and Cha Cha walking around the Academy with “We’re Through” playing

☂ Diego: *has knives but instead chooses to punch and hit Hazel to try to make him let go of Allison”

☂ A rope-a-dope is a boxing tactic of pretending to be trapped against the ropes, goading an opponent to throw tiring ineffective punches. Diego sweetie Hazel wasn’t even trying to get you off of him all he was doing was choking Allison. The only person who got tired was probably you

☂ What’s the point in Diego yelling “Luther, go!” if he’s already going 💀

☂ Luther was there immediately when Hazel attacked Vanya. That means that Luther heard Vanya and was going to go get her to safety

☂ I will never stop signing my praise for the entirety of the “Sinnerman” fight scene(s). It gives me chills every single time. Easily one of the best scenes in all of the show

☂ Klaus must really have his music blasting if he can’t hear the gun shots right next to him

☂ I’ve always wondered if Allison actually registered in her mind that “The boy” is Five when Cha Cha says that’s who they’re looking for. Either she does realize that’s Five, is simply just angry that those two are looking for a boy, or registers in her mind that it’s Five through his superhero codename even though Cha Cha’s not referring to him in that way

☂ Diego is full on just standing in the background watching Allison get beat up by Cha Cha 🕴

☂ I love Diego’s little hand flap when he gets hit in the hand fighting Cha Cha

☂ Okay so I make everything about Five, but the whole Cha Cha fight scene with Allison and then Diego kind of scares me. Cha Cha and Hazel are both amazing assassins (they’re both probably right below Five) and neither Allison nor Diego could stop her by themselves. Could you imagine Five fighting one of his siblings? Especially with his spatial jumps? We already got a glimpse of his true combat skills when he fights Lila in S2. What a scary little old man

☂ “Vanya, get out of here!” Again, wanting to make sure that Vanya is safe and gets away. He even tried to go look for her

☂ Something I don’t really get about the Hazel and Luther fight is why doesn’t Luther just overpower him? Luther has super strength and on top of that he has giant muscles due to the gorilla DNA. Shouldn’t he be able to beat Hazel to a pulp? Maybe we have to consider that Hazel might have been altered by The Commission to be stronger and more durable, but they haven’t mentioned that in the show

☂ “Ah, you gotta cut down on that fast food, soldier.” What are you talking about Diego he literally just got off the moon two days ago aflksjfdk

☂ So Luther was too injured to jump out of the way of the chandelier but was able to push it up off of himself? 🤔

☂ I personally think that Luther’s body design adaptation for the show is really cool and that they gave him the perfect amount of bulk without making him look ridiculous

☂ This has been pointed out before, but cross-stitch foreshadowing, baby 

☂ Again, Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ Well at least Diego thought about Vanya dying before thinking about his siblings dying because of her. The latter is ironic!

☂ The clock above Luther’s mirror reads approximately 1:30 am. Hazel and Cha Cha didn’t want to wait until morning

☂ I wonder how different it would be if Five was present at the Academy when Hazel and Cha Cha attacked. He probably would have surrendered himself to them, but it's fun to entertain the idea that he would go apeshit if he knew that they were harming his family in order to find him

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[its-abbyyyyy]

hi hi !! (i still don't get how tumblr works so idk if im even sending this in the right place?) but congrats on 50 followers!! <33

i was wondering if i could have a dps ❤️?

i never know how to describe myself but here goes:

i'm a 17 year old, 5'4, mixed (black and european) non binary earth being with short curly/coily dark brown hair, nearly black eyes (they're actually really dark brown). i'm a depressed introvert with social anxiety 🤠 i put my alone time above everything else, and i like to do most activities alone (the only person i can spend a lot of time with without draining my social batteries is one of my best friend who's also my soulmate). my love language is touch but i have a slight touch aversion (im a walking contradiction, but like im basically a cat, i love hugs but only when i want them). i love to read, write (shitty poetry and books i'll never actually finish, mostly), watch films and series. i like to write letters to my soulmate and make her little gifts (handmade beaded jewelry, little paintings or drawings,...). i hate hate hate summer, and thrive when it's raining a lot and there's thunder and lightning. i drink mostly tea, coffee and water, i don't like loud noises or loud music (but im listening to music 24/7, mostly hozier, willow, doja cat and the beatles). im the youngest of my uni friend group but im also the mom friend. im a collector (books, plants, jewelry, crystals, funko pops) which means im broke.

the films i rewatch the most are dps, the perks of being a wallflower, pride and prejudice (2005) kill your darlings, and any mcu/harry potter film. i never go out without my rings and my style ranges from dr martens, baggy pants and t-shirt to fancy white blouse, long skirt and heels. i kin todd and meeks but my fav poets are meeks, pitts and charlie!

i think that's more than long enough sjfbdkdlfk im sorry for the info dump 🤠😭

thank you so much and again, congrats for 50!!! <333

Hi!! Thank you so so much for the ask (we seem really similar)

I'll ship you with Todd and I'm pretty sure Charlie would be your best friend! <3

You've been stuck in Vermont for almost a month due to your parent's new job and it hasn't stopped raining, not that you mind

The one problem about the weather is that rain means staying inside and staying inside means not meeting anyone

That all changes when your parent(s) decide that enough is enough and send you out on your way to town

And who should you bump into but the dead poets themselves, huddled around a table at a small but crowded diner

The bell rings to signal the door of the diner opening and Todd glances up quickly to see who walked in, looked back down, then nearly gave himself whiplash from looking up again as he registers that you, the most good-looking person he had ever seen, just walked in

Neil sees him staring almost immediately and smiles to himself but doesn't say anything

Charlie, on the other hand... he notices and instead of shutting up about it like Neil, he takes it upon himself to go up to you

"Hi, I'm Charlie Dalton. It's pretty crowded in here, but would you wanna join my friends and I at our table?"

You gladly accept and slide into the booth next to Todd, who flushes bright red and keeps his eyes fixed on the table

You follow suit, too nervous to start a conversation until Charlie speaks up again, asking you a million questions

With each answer, Todd begins to fall more and more in love

To the dismay of all of you, a few hours later you insist that you should be on your way

Before you can make it far down the street, Todd jumps up all of a sudden and sprints up to you

"Todd?"

"Uh... I-I..." he stammers, then takes a deep breath and whispers, "Could... could I maybe see you again?"

"I'd like that," you smile and, before you can lose the courage, kiss his cheek quickly and run off with a smile spreading across your face

Todd's speechless, to keep it simple

It doesn't matter how many dates y'all go on or how many years you two are together, he's still speechless every time he sees you <3

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 120: The Beetle at Bay

The place felt weirdly small and cramped despite the fact there were only eight teenagers inside. The air smelt strongly of coffee, and Lily got a firsthand account as she landed on top of a booth and got the hot drink splashed across her lap for it, and she prayed they came across another dorm room in the castle to get the stain out of Alice's skirt. Sirius disrupted the lace as he smacked the window, Alice was brushing sugar out of her hair from an overturned table, and they all had pink confetti in every crease of their clothes from circling golden cherubs above as they got wearily to their feet, but none immediately recognized the place.

"Well, we're in Hogsmeade," Sirius offered, nose still pressed to the rain pattering window as he recognized the street and even Scrivenshaft's down the ways a bit. There was something odd on the window though, like a huge poster of someone moving. It didn't look flashy enough to be some new advertised product. It was raining too hard, and he couldn't get a good view to see it. He'd have liked to just go over there and hear the chapter from that store, but Alice already gave the door an experimental tug to no avail. "I just don't recognize this place," the scandal in his voice was eye-roll-inducing to the four non-Marauders. Even knowing exactly how they knew these grounds so well with their monthly romps with a werewolf didn't make their pigheaded assurances they knew every inch of this place feel less annoying.

"I suppose it stands to reason they'd add a few more buildings in time," Peter offered, wandering behind the counter and offering if anyone else would like a drink. He spotted the book in the booth behind Evans, the large black volume wasn't hard to miss in this place of reds and pinks, but nobody made a move towards it straight away. That last, horrible lingering sentence as heavy in the air as the brewed beans. They'd put it off for a bit and try to breathe the strong scent instead. "Let's just hope it wasn't Umbridge getting a foot out in this place," he added in disgust.

Lily didn't think it a particularly good idea when Pettigrew began handing out the highly caffeinated coffee to everyone, those boys didn't need any extra energy, but she was also starting to feel a little fatigued herself, and they weren't even slightly showing the same. Their sleep schedules were a bit off now, this would definitely do some good.

She slunk off to a corner booth by herself, deciding to leave Alice and Frank be in this clearly coupley place as Pettigrew handed them his first batch with a smile, and she watched in fascination once more as Potter and Lupin began quietly asking Sirius Black how his side was doing. He brushed off their concern with a grin that looked natural, not at all his usual haughty demeanor.

Regulus Black went shuffling behind the counter and began browsing through some of the pastries available, while Pettigrew surprised her by placing a mug down in front of her, she still somehow accidentally kept overlooking him when he'd been walking right towards her. He called over to Regulus though and the two joined the other three, Pettigrew had even grabbed the book on his pass through the place and read out the strange chapter title. Beetle at Bay? The only beatle that came to mind had to do with Rita Skeeter, but what could she be doing back here?

All conversations were silenced as he read the horrible opening, both somehow a good and bad thing all at once. The good news, they didn't have to wait and wonder what had made You-Know-Who so happy. The bad news?

Everything else.

The ten escaped convicts, and what they'd been in Azkaban for, plus blaming it all on Sirius.

Somehow Peter had remembered from the one time Remus had come over and last tasted coffee he'd hated the stuff, and had slipped him hot chocolate instead. It was this little detail that made all the difference to him as he alternately blew and sipped on it watching Peter read that awful article, seeing the color bleeding back out of his face and how very aware all of them were it wasn't Sirius those Death Eaters had more in common with in this future.

Regulus shifted imperceptibly closer to him, hiding his own face with his long hair as he put far too much care in stirring the drink with a biscuit. The other three just chose not to acknowledge the moment and shifted restlessly in place, but the fact that none of them left the table or punched Wormtail was the best improvement he could currently have asked for.

Lily startled and nearly spilt her piping hot drink back into her lap when Frank and Alice joined her anyways, she sliding in the booth beside her and Frank across, both still cradling their own lurid pink steaming cups.

"Oh, you don't have to," she quickly tried to say, even though she wouldn't deny for a second their mere presence comforted her from thinking of that ghastly white-haired version of the kind faced girl beside her. "You can have an alone moment without me always hanging around."

"You're not bothering us," Frank scoffed at the notion.

"We've loved your company," Alice quickly agreed, "I only wish we'd talked more before all this began." She went a little red at the end though and stammered a bit, before stopping herself from saying anything else and wincing as she took a too-fast sip and scalded her tongue.

Lily sighed and looked back out the window, she knew full well why Alice and Frank had barely been on passing terms with her, the same as the rest of the school, and it wasn't because they were a year above her. Her association with Severus put her in the same bad company as those friends of his, no matter how much she begged of him to be rid of them as well, nobody in school wanted much to do with her because of him.

The most uneasy silence that had yet passed between them festered as Pettigrew read through Umbridge passing yet another ludicrous Decree, stopping the teachers from talking about anything but their own subject in light of this news. The following DA lessons that were the subsequent of this as well lit the couple's face with such pride and admiration for Neville's response that she felt almost dirty sitting next to them.

Her and Harry's father were barely on speaking terms. Her best friend made Harry's dreams and scar problem quantifiably worse, and now Ron was even voicing the thought Severus's motives were clear to no one, no matter how much Hermione continued assuring Dumbledore trusted him, that should have been good enough for everyone.

It only gave her a few more feeble rays of hope their wise headmaster must know something they didn't. He'd already been wrong before though during Harry's life, and she'd been having her own doubts long before now.

Finally Harry was setting out on his date with Cho, and Alice wasn't going to let Lily keep stewing in such thoughts that had her face puckered up like that when she should be enjoying hearing about Harry on his first date just like all of them were hoping to get a laugh at.

"Lily," she reached over and kindly put a hand on her arm, smiling wider when she didn't even attempt to shrug her off. "We're not going to stop talking to you when we get out of this, even if you do keep talking to Snape."

Lily winced for the 'if', was it so obvious even she was having doubts? She listened mournfully as Pettigrew began describing Harry and Cho's light conversation about Quidditch and watched as Frank began pouring heavy amounts of creamer into his coffee and then casually reaching over and doing so for Alice as well, then she turned back to watching Potter as he started trying to stack all of their finished drinks, and then go around fetching more cups with laughs and further challenges to his task from his friends.

"I've noticed you've been a little easier on him lately," Frank offered as he followed her wandering eye and offered a change of subject.

She snorted and immediately turned away as if she'd been doing no such thing, but Alice had a teasing smile in place now and a quirked brow to stop her from denying any such thing.

"He's still an arse," Lily said at once, summoning a biscuit to her from the counter and dunking it into her now cool drink. "Just because he hasn't gone around cursing us every time we've annoyed him during this doesn't mean he'll stop doing it the second we get back."

"Maybe, maybe not," Alice agreed passively, but there was still something in her tone that hinted she was holding back laughter at Lily's insistence of this. She hadn't told them of where she'd been that full moon night, how he'd let himself be separated from Black just to protect her like that- She flushed in frustration and gulped at her drink, unable to deny even to herself she'd been watching him quite a bit lately. So she found the arsehole had some fascinating layers and wouldn't mind dissecting him to see what some of those were now, he was still an arsehole first.

The name of this place was finally given to them, Madam Puddifoot's, how frilly, but Harry's date was quickly growing more memorable than even this quaint shop, as the poor teen blundered one disastrous answer after another with Cho, until finally she went out into the storm, in more tears than the rain could do. Regulus found himself watching in pure fascination, making a mental list of things he now at least knew not to do.

"Well, I finally don't feel so embarrassed about our first date," Frank chuckled a bit into the awkward silence.

"I told you not to worry about that darling, natural selection would have done that bird in," Alice laughed.

"What's this?" Sirius swiveled curiously in his seat, a dangerous decision as the cups were now listing precariously towards him, and he had a galleon going this would last until the end of the chapter.

"Butt out Black," Alice said quickly while Frank blushed slightly.

"Good luck with that," Remus snorted softly.

"He's always been the nosy one," his little brother quietly agreed.

"He doesn't just keep up with the school gossip for Moony's sake, don't let him tell you otherwise," Peter agreed without looking up.

"Why do I put up with any of you?" He asked in exasperation.

Alice was laughing even harder at the exchange by the end, a stark contrast to Hagrid's dour mood and still not revealing how he got those injuries.

"So, should I be jealous?" Frank finally swooped in and saved Lily from getting anything further directed at her, as his girlfriend fell back into chuckles and looked to turn back to the redhead. "Don't think I haven't noticed him flirting with you." He lovingly teased.

"I wouldn't leave you if Viktor Krum walked in the door right now," Alice assured, blowing him a kiss.

Lily was smiling fondly at the exchange as the beetle was finally explained, and indeed it was referring back to Rita Skeeter, having a rough go of life by the sounds of her description. As Hermione blackmailed her into helping, and Luna Lovegood all pulled together to put Harry's story out there his way, the boys were being such a loud mess it was a wonder if they could hear him at all as each were chanting at Peter to either hurry up, or slow down in his reading as the tower of cups was now tilting this way and that dangerously.

Finally, as they were teleported out of sight, they were all laughing at the show no matter the outcome.

[thefriendlyfrog]

Too many thoughts on SPN 15x17, “Unity”

Welp, I don’t usually do this, but this episode was so great and packed with so many good parallels and callbacks I couldn’t help it! Meredith Glynn is such a great writer. So, let’s begin. Lots of spoilers under the cut.

The first scene opens up to Amara living life to the fullest in an Icelandic hot spring (I’ve been to some in Iceland and would 10/10 recommend – don’t bother with the Blue Lagoon, though). My eyes were immediately drawn to the super recognizable cover of Murakami’s “Norwegian Wood”. Now, I haven’t read this book since, like, high school (now realizing that was a DECADE ago), but I do remember the general plot and themes of the story (I should really reread that again, it’s a good book). Basically, the story is recalled by our narrator and protagonist Watanabe at a later point in his life as he is reminded of a time of life when the Beatles’ song “Norwegian Wood” plays. I don’t want to spoil the whole book, but basically it is a coming of age story that is steeped in themes of regret, sex, love, and death (among others, it really is a literary treasure trove!). Skip the next paragraph if you don’t want “Norwegian Wood” spoilers.

In short: Watanabe’s best friend from high school commits suicide which haunts him and his friend’s girlfriend, Naoki, for the rest of their lives. Watanabe and Naoki become close and romantically involved, but she leaves for a sanitorium. Watanabe wants to be with Naoki despite her telling him that she doesn’t think she can love anymore (she described herself and her high school boyfriend as soulmates). Watanabe later meets Naoki’s opposite, Midori, a lively girl who Watanabe grows close to and is also interested in. Watanabe essentially doesn’t move forward as he is waiting on Naoki while having Midori waiting on him. At the end of the story, it is revealed that it has always been Midori and he realizes he wants to be with her.

I thought that this was an EXCELLENT pick for Amara to be reading. It really sums of a lot of surface and not-so-surface level themes in Supernatural. Wondering if there is a parallel between Dean and Watanabe about sort of idealizing a life (with someone) that isn’t meant to be while ignoring love in front of you? Would love to hear all of your thoughts.

Moving on (I’m skipping through parts of the episode to just focus on some key observations)! Amara tries to convince Chuck to fight on behalf of this world and wants to show him some of his creations. So, she brings him to Heaven to see his ‘first children’ (i.e., angels). She also refers to angels as having prefect angelic devotion which immediately made me laugh because our fave angel Cas is really devoted to Dean humanity and not Chuck. Ahh! This whole episode just kept pointing out how special Cas is.

And then, callback after callback began. Amara brings Chuck to the bunker so Chuck says, “Is this a trap?” which made me think of episode 9 (“The Trap” by Berens). This was almost immediately followed by another callback when Chuck says, “You can’t hold me here forever,” to which Amara replies, “I can hold you long enough.” Um, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets (12x10, Yockey), anyone?

Ishim: “You can’t hold me here forever.” … Lily’s powers are wearing off as Ishim approaches her until Cas stabs Ishim in the back with his angel blade. Cas: “You held him for long enough.”

Like, COME ON! Almost verbatim.

Skipping forward to Dean and Jack’s adventure to visit my favorite hippies, Adam and Serafina (like seriously, they were fantastic characters!). Adam refers to himself as, “…first dude off of the assembly line,” which is similar language that has been used to referring to angels in the past (again, invoking Castiel?)

Then Dean assumes the woman is Eve but they both just shake their heads and chuckle, “I’m Serafina,” I’m definitely not the first one to point this out but… the First Man being in a near-lifelong romantic relationship with an angel named Seraph Serafina?! Uh, yeah, ‘nuff said.

Serafina also mentions that she saw Jack when she and Adam were, “…sipping mushroom tea on the Hanging Gardens of Babylon,” which made me wonder if there was some sort of connection with Glynn’s season 14 episode, “Byzantium” (14x08), which is the episode Cas makes his deal with the Empty. Babylon was a fortress of the Byzantine empire (not going to lie, my historical knowledge about the Byzantine empire is preeeeetty limited).  

I also loved the whole speech by Serafina to Dean: “I mean, just think of everything that has had to happen to get Jack to this place, to this moment. Baby, it was meant to be,” Dean, of course, is upset by this because he is probably thinking that this was all basically predestined, and he has had no free will. However, he just needs to wait a little while longer until Chuck tells him to his face that he has never been able to control Cas since he laid his hand on Dean saving him from Hell.

Serafina also heals Adam’s wound and it is, of course, super reminiscent of Cas healing Dean (although, even Serafina doesn’t directly touch Adam when healing him – it’s, once again, unique to Castiel). Obligatory hand squeal: HANDS!!!! Wow, they are not even trying to be subtle about the whole hands thing. It is so IN YOUR FACE begging for the audience to notice it.

Adam then mentions how much power is in his rib: “But this puppy? Is packing enough punch to create LIFE. Or, in your case, destroy God.” Well, at this point I think we can all be pretty certain that in the end it will NOT be used to destroy God, so will it instead be used for creation? Excited to see how they defuse Jack’s supernova bomb next episode.

Rounding off Dean’s vignette is a heartbreaking scene with him and Jack in the Impala. Dean says, “I don’t know how to explain it. When I learned about Chuck, it was like – it’s like I wasn’t alive. Not really. You know, like, my whole life I’ve never been free. But like, really free. But now, me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life…But now we have a chance. And that’s because of you.” Again, this is before Dean learns that Cas’ actions were made of his own free will, and from the sounds of it, Dean’s connection to Amara as well. I also immediately wondered if Jack bringing Dean some sense of freedom was what Cas saw when Jack showed him “paradise”.

Moving on to Sam’s vignette: Sam remembers that Sergei mentioned the Key of Death was in the bunker (how did he remember this, wasn’t he unconscious at the time? A little disappointed Cas didn’t get to provide that little fact but I’m also glad that Sam actually served a purpose this episode and was a bit more front and center). They find the Key of Death and there is an inscription in Latin on the box:

Viator mortalis, cave, quoniam scias Clavem Mortis pensare graviter. Il tamen desideres ut introeas illum abyssum obscurissimum artis opus est tibi porta.

Okay, fair warning: I took Latin for 4 years but it has been awhile so my translation is super not perfect, but I figured I would take a stab at it because the subtitles were wrong at times and Google translate is not perfect. I translated it as something like this:

Mortal traveler, beware, because you know the Key of Death should be considered seriously. However, if you want to enter the darkest abyss, this work of art is the gate/door.

Honestly, there were a few words that I couldn’t find the right conjugations to and I know this isn’t 100% accurate, but it gives you the gist.

Sam then visits Death’s library and finds the Empty there, killing people (?) to get in touch with Death, whom they hasn’t been trusting as of late. We learn that Death’s plan is to assume the role of New God and restore the world back to order, bring back rules. The Empty is wary because they don’t know if they can trust the promise of being able to go back to sleep. Trust issues, the Empty says, because of “your busted-ass friend in the trench coat,” another subtle-not-so-subtle mention of Cas. But why, exactly, did Cas give the Empty ‘trust issues’? Was it because he woke up in the first place? Because he has ‘traipsed in and out’ of the Empty without dying?

We also learn that only Billie can read Chuck’s Death book, and, this may be a crack idea but… maybe Cas should be able to read the book because he was the one that killed Billie and made her Death in the first place? Seems like Cas might have a connection to Billie. It would be cool if Cas were the one to read Chuck’s book.

Finally, we learn a bit more about the Empty, and how they can’t go to Earth unless summoned. Hmm…

Flash forward to Amara and Chuck in the bunker. Amara tells Chuck, “It’s not too late, brother,” and, if you’re like me, you finished that sentence with “it’s never too late (to start all over again)”. So many great Destiel songs out there, but “Never Too Late” takes the cake for me.

Amara and Chuck decide to become one, become ultimate balance. Chuck extends his hand and Amara grasps it as she is absorbed into Chuck. I don’t even know if I really need to say this, but… HANDS! (Destiel is already canon to me but if the show is going to make it more explicitly canon for the audience, it’s going to be through hands as I know people have been shouting about for several seasons now).  

To finish, let’s talk about that kick-ass scene with TFW 2.0 at the end of the episode. We find out that Chuck’s real ending is to have Dean regress and give in to rage and kill everything he loves, probably ultimately leading to his own death. Woof, what a tragic ending (tragedy ≠ good ending). So, we’ve got to subvert that which Dean does after a heartfelt plea from Sam (“You would trade me?”). I enjoyed how much Dean looked back at Cas during this exchange, especially after Sam tells Dean that Eileen will die again. The parallels, the connection.

Honestly, I’m not sure why Cas and Jack were in that scene other than to have some meaningful glances exchanged between Cas and Dean and because TFW2.0 is together in the next scene. But… whatever, more Cas so I liked it.

And finally, the scene that had me shaking with VINDICATION.

Cas to Chuck: “What, you consumed your sister?” Chuck: “We came to an understanding, so spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday. You know what every other version of you did after ‘gripping him tight and raising him from perdition’? They did what they were told. But not you. Not the ‘one off the line with a crack in his chassis’” (Cas looks back at Dean after a moment)

Okay, so let’s break this exchange down. So much satisfaction with just a few sentences. Bravo, Ms. Glynn.

“We came to an understanding.” Didn’t Michael and Adam say the same thing after they decided to share equally in their bond and vessel? Callback #1.

“…self-hating angel of Thursday.” Ahh, it’s been so long since we got mention that Cas is the angel of Thursday. The last time was, what, when Crowley says it to Cas back in season 6? By the way, it was totally meant to be that Supernatural will finish off the series on a Thursday. Callback #2 (ish).

“You know what every other version of you did after ‘gripping him tight and raising him from perdition’?” This is the second time the show has repeated Cas’ first line to Dean near-verbatim in two seasons. You know, just in case the audience forgot Dean and Cas’ infamous first meeting (which I am like 99% sure we are going to get hella callbacks to next episode). Callback #3.

“They did what they were told. But not you. Not the ‘one off the line with a crack in his chassis.’” Again, Chuck is closely paraphrasing what Naomi said about Cas in season 8:

8x21 “The Great Escapist” – Naomi: “You're the famous spanner in the works. Honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis. You have never done what you were told. Not completely. You don't even die right, do you?”

Callback #4. Seriously, Glynn packed four callbacks into such a short time period. Wizard.

My only *criticism* of this final scene is that Dean and Cas didn’t seem to react too much to Chuck’s news about Cas always having free will (although, I think Cas already knew this, but it is news and confirmation to Dean!). I highly suspect that will come next week, though. I’m SO excited (and also terrified) for next week. We are definitely going to be getting a lot of Cas next episode. Misha, in an interview, mentioned that we would get Cas’ ‘chapter’ in 18, and I’m wondering if this will be the true Cas-centric episode? I don’t know, maybe the Cas-centric episode was “Gimme Shelter” but I was expecting more of a “The Man Who Would Be King” kind of Cas-centric episode.  

All in all, 10/10. I keep reading and seeing things that are galaxy braining me, so it has been super fun reading all the meta and reactions to this episode.

Three episodes left. Get your tissues ready for Cas’ death (oops, is this even a spoiler at this point?) next episode. And remember, “Nothing ever really ends,” and “The end has no end,”

[anotherkindofmindpod]

I’d love for you guys to have Mark Lewisohn on your show just to grill him. As someone who’s experienced workplace bullying and sexual assault, that he would go so far as to paint Klein as “heroic” when he said things like “reluctant virgin” is just so devastating to me. It makes me feel ill. I do NOT want this man to have a say in Beatles history. I love the Beatles. I don’t want that tainted by people who will paint over abuse just to feed their own self importance.

We vehemently agree, Listener!  Thank you for writing in.

Our list of grievances with Mark Lewisohn is long, but in a nutshell we believe his intent is to publicly “redeem” John Lennon and we have seen copious evidence that he will go to whatever lengths he has to in order to do this. 

That includes, but is not limited to: 

Claiming that readers of his Tune In Series may consider Klein the “hero” of the Beatles break-up

Deliberately spreading the demonstrably false lie that John (and Yoko) did not have a significant heroin problem in the late 60s and early 70s (Lewisohn suggests Cold Turkey is just John playing make believe)

Displaying unapologetic favoritism by using glowing terms to portray John and Yoko as the world’s most perfect romance, as opposed to Paul and Linda, whose 29-year marriage he dismisses as “conventional” and motivated by appearances (namely Linda’s pregnancy, even though it was planned) and Green Card needs

Stating that he could tell from watching the infamous “it’s a drag” clip that Paul was kind of sad, but primarily annoyed at how much positive attention John was getting on the day of his murder

Apparently suggesting to an audience of his Power Point Show that Paul maybe stole a leg off Yoko’s bed (the bed she had delivered and built in the Beatles’ recording studio, mind you), a personal “theory” which is based on the fact that Paul later wrote a song called “Three Legs” (you know that song: “My dog, he got three legs, like the bed you inappropriately brought into Abbey Road 2 years ago which I secretly vandalized behind your back because I have nothing better to do, am certainly not busy writing the Beatles Swan Song and don’t have a fucking 7 year old at home or anything”)

This isn’t even to mention Tune In, which could be a whole separate post and episode. Suffice it to say, this book often reads less like a Beatles biography and more like John Lennon Fanfiction to us.

Lewisohn managed to distinguish himself by doing (some) research and unearthing some original documents. That he had some skill in research is not surprising given that he started his career in Beatledom as a researcher for Norman, on his book Shout — which Lewisohn still contends is a good book. Norman, on the other hand has evolved his opinion of his own work and thinks Shout was flawed, so has written a whole biography on Paul to make up for what he sees as the failure of Shout, which is his underestimation of Paul. Unfortunately, Lewisohn does not seem to have made this same journey. He pays lip service to John and Paul being equal, and then spends all of his time and energy trying to prove otherwise. Norman says that he has created a monster in Lewisohn. We take his point.

One of our biggest issues with Lewisohn is that he vigorously promotes himself as an unbiased truth teller, and his calm manner seems to telegraph this. But it is not true. The research that Lewisohn does and the spin that he applies to his findings are all heavily biased. As we mentioned in one of our episodes, he travelled to Gibraltar simply to experience where John and Yoko got married. Yet when Paul calls the May 9th meeting over management the metaphorical cracking of the Liberty Bell, Lewisohn doesn’t even bother to Google it so he can understand the metaphor.

What he chooses to research is also a form of bias. For example, we at AKOM are very interested in Paul’s relationship with Robert Fraser during the Beatle years — since Paul has commented that Fraser was one of the most important, influential people in his life. Paul McCartney was the concept artist behind Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Magical Mystery Tour film, the iconic Apple logo, and he co-designed the covers of the White Album and Abbey Road.  All of these are pretty defining moments in the Beatles’ career.  As Beatles fans, we’d like to know more about Paul’s art education and influences. But we would be shocked if Lewisohn dug into Fraser at all beyond his relationship as John and Yoko’s gallerist/curator (and heroin dealer, but since that isn’t a thing in Lewisohn’s world then maybe he will be ignored).

We think Lewisohn benefits massively from the fact that Beatles authorship was like the Wild West since its inception, when everyone with a connection to the Beatles (plus or minus a personal axe to grind) wrote a book about their experience. It was absolute chaos, with no rules, no checks and balances, uncredited sources, etc. Just an absolute shit show.  What Lewisohn did was bring some order to the chaos with some proper documentation. But again, what he chooses to dig into often reflects bias. And this certainly does not mean that he is intellectually or emotionally equipped to interpret his findings. Doing this takes social intelligence and insight, which is a very different skill. As a creator of myths, he is no better (and no more insightful or original) than many of the others who came before him; he worships John Lennon and freely admits it. He is not even close to being unbiased.  But in this dumpster fire of a fandom he has at least checked some boxes and done some digging.  The fact is, the bar has been so low for so long that Beatles fans don’t even know how to expect or want better.  But WE certainly expect better.  We expect some breakthrough, fresh thinking.  Not just Shout with Receipts.

We think it’s significant that Lewisohn was deeply disliked by George Harrison, who lobbied to get him kicked him off the Anthology project. He was fired from Paul’s fan club magazine, and yet no one seems to think he might hold a grudge about that, too?  Lewisohn so distorted John and Paul’s relationship in Tune In that he believes he is the target of the lyrics in Paul’s song “Early Days.“  And he either thinks that’s flattering or funny, because Lewisohn seems to truly believe he knows John Lennon better than Paul McCartney does.  We find it almost tragic that Paul is so bothered by the way his experience and relationship is being portrayed by authors (perhaps Lewisohn) that he wrote a song about it. In it, he conveys his frustration and heartache about how everything is misconstrued and we find it absolutely outrageous that Lewisohn would not take this to heart.  Perhaps Lewisohn thinks Paul should listen to him for a change? And if he doesn’t like it, then tough, because Lewisohn knows better? We think Lewisohn should do some serious soul-searching about “Early Days” because if one of his main subjects is saying, “you are getting it wrong and it is breaking my heart”….maybe, just maybe, he should listen and rethink things.  Maybe apply a little creativity, out-of-the-box thinking and empathy. This is what his heroes did.

Meanwhile, Jean Jackets are SO BUSY complaining that Paul McCartney doesn’t like Lewisohn because he “tells the truth!” that they fail to notice that Lewisohn has become a mouthpiece for Yoko Ono.  He has already started white-washing John Lennon’s history, promoting John and Yoko as the true and only geniuses versus Paul as the craven, small-minded Lennon disciple who (through no virtue of his own) was born with the ability to write some nice tunes.  Lewisohn’s version of John, on the other hand, is ALWAYS a sexy, visionary genius on the right side of every issue.  He even went out of his way to recently trash Paul’s early 70’s albums, which -in addition to being obnoxious and we believe wrong (since we love them)- is totally outside his purview.

Lastly, to address your original point, Lewisohn’s claim that Klein may be viewed as the “hero” of his Beatles History reveals that he hasn’t shown sufficient empathy or interest in Paul’s experience.  This claim at best ignores and at worst condones the fact that Klein was an abusive monster to one of the two founding members of the Beatles.  As we discussed in Episode 4, Klein was a criminal who bullied Paul in his creative workspace, disrespected Paul in his own office in front of his own employees and actively pitted Lennon against McCartney for years.  It’s hard to imagine ANYONE who inflicted more damage on the Beatles and Lennon/McCartney than Allen Klein.  In addition to the wildly inappropriate “reluctant virgin” nickname, he verbally threatened to “own Paul’s ass” (to which Paul responded “he never got anywhere near my ass”). Klein was so disrespectful to Paul and Linda’s marriage he pitched the idea of procuring “a blonde with big tits” to parade in front of Paul to lure him away from Linda and destroy their relationship.  Let’s also never forget that Klein contributed lyrics to the song “How Do You Sleep.”  Allen Klein literally gave Paul nightmares.  Anyone who so much as pretends to care about Paul’s break-up era depression (including his alcohol abuse, his inability to get out of bed and his terrifying sleep paralysis) would not champion Allen Klein.

Yes, Klein is a human being and therefore has his own POV, same as anyone else.  But a Beatles biographer is beholden to four points of view only: John, Paul, George and Ringo.  And when an outsider is openly hostile to one of the Beatles and damaging long-term to all of the Beatles, it is beyond inappropriate to portray him as a hero.  This type of comment, made publicly to an audience of Beatles fans, invalidates and seeks to erase the real trauma inflicted on Paul McCartney by Allen Klein, and we think Lewisohn should apologize for his comments.

Instead, Lewisohn’s current buddy is Peter Brown, whose book, The Love You Make so offended and angered Paul and Linda that they literally burned their copy (and photographed it burning for good measure).  This information doesn’t appear to bother Lewisohn in the least. Why not?

George referred to Norman’s Shout as “Shit.” But Lewisohn thinks it’s a great book.  Why?

How any Beatles or Paul or even George fans tolerate Lewisohn is baffling to us; we don’t recognize a real human being in his version of Paul, and his version of John is a superhero rather than a man.  We suspect that fans have come to accept the traditional story and at least appreciate some properly-documented facts. 

But as we are constantly trying to demonstrate on our show, just because the story has always been told one way, doesn’t mean it’s right.  Because in the end, Mark Lewisohn has no special insight. He wasn’t there. He is a guy who bought into a narrative during the Shout era, and is cherry picking his findings to support it.You can find a discussion of Lewisohn here

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 4: If Love is a Drug

She is back! And better than ever.....

Not really, sorry it’s been radio silence/lurking, she’s had something of a depressive episode recently, but she’s getting back on her feet. So yea, I don’t want to promise anything, but I’ll try to post more.

And finally get a masterlist at some point with this series, for goodness’ sake.

So yea. 

When should I stop crediting @casafrass for this? I feel like it’s getting annoying, but it’s only fair. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

Headcanons: Based off of this one, though like, not really, just the general vomit theme. 

Words: 3,951 (woop, she’s a long one, get ready for some TEA)

Pairings: Honestly, just let me know if you would like me to put some pairings in here, because most of all of the ones that I’ve written, you can read it either way, so please, just let me know! 

Warnings: Vomit, drugs, pills, violence, swearing

“So I understand that at one point you talk about a conversation that you had with Judy Garland.” 

“Yes, she and I met, actually I don’t remember where, but it was one of those random ‘high society’ parties, and we struck up a sort of conversation. I think we found each other’s stories interesting, because, as women in the entertainment industry, even across film and music, there were some startling similarities.” 

“Would you care to expand on those similarities a little?” 

“I mean, besides the fact that so much of the focus is on our bodies, which we’ve already discussed, the zeitgeist of the time seemed to be that women simply weren’t ready to handle all of the pressures that that sort of system put on us. Of course, this meant drugs, particularly amphetamines, which were quite vogue in the US at the time. Judy and I were both familiar with that sort of concept, however, the difference lied in that Judy chose to go on amphetamines, and I was given them.” 

“Given them by...?” 

“EMI, mostly, but everyone, including me, was complicit in a way. Though, it did slip more into self-regulation in the Beatles’ later years, and I even fully recovered by my solo career. But yea, especially in the earlier ones, during our massive concert tours, a lot of it was... very strong suggestions.”

“You were known for being very strong-willed, though.” 

“Yeah, but y’know, it’s my career. I guess at the time, even if EMI had let me go, I could’ve gone somewhere else on the name alone, but I was young, stupid, and scared of non-existent threats, so I really did put up with it for quite long.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She hasn’t come out of that room since last night.” 

“It’s called sleeping, Rings.”

“It’s past noon! She came straight up here after dinner last night.” 

“And she locked the door.” 

“Very suspicious.” 

“You think we could get Mal to break it down?” 

“What if there’s a guy in there?”

“Then we’ve got to break it down.” 

“She’s an adult!” 

“What if she’s DEAD?” 

“Someone get Mal.” 

Your eyes fluttered open. With friends like these, who needs an alarm clock? 

Through blurry eyes, you could read the actual alarm clock: 3:17. 

Everything was alright for about 20 seconds, and then all of the crappy feelings had re-settled into your wakened state. Your legs felt like they were filled with cement, your nose was congested, your hands were clammy, you were extremely sweaty even though it was absolutely freezing, and you were stilled tired, even though you had gone to bed at 7:30 last night. 

You sauntered over to the door, pulling on a pair of sweat pants over your bare legs. 

You pressed your sweaty fingers down on the cool lock and pulled it open. 

“Do not! Call Mal! I am here.” Four blank faces gawked back at you, all far more spritely than you cared to admit that you weren’t. The suits were on as well. 

“Is that what you look like without makeup?” John quipped in mock-surprise. He knew damn well what you looked like without makeup, he just couldn’t give up a chance to be his sarcastic asshat self. You sighed.

“Not now, please, John.” The light in the main suite was too bright, so you pushed your head into the doorway and closed your eyes. You wanted to sit down again. 

“(y/n), love, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is 3:30, and you’ve got to get your act together at some point.” You couldn’t see his face, but you knew that was Ringo.

“I know what time it is, I’m just... eurgh,” You didn’t bother opening your eyes, “This shit is exhausting.” 

“We can’t can-” 

“I know, I know,” you interrupted Paul, “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.” 

- time skip brought to you by I am very tired - 

“(y/n), do you want me to carry that?” George appeared at your side, holding his hand out near yours, grabbing at the guitar case. 

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You chuckled weakly. 

“Your playing was off. You missed a few chords. You didn’t smile as much, and your voice was weaker. I can tell.” 

“Rough night is all. Remember, we can’t cancel even if I am sick. But I’m fine.” Your grip on the guitar case loosened unconsciously as your arm felt weaker. 

“Sure.” George swung his hand in and grasped at the handle of your case, before taking it in his own. You sighed, but still didn’t feel like answering. 

“What a gentleman you are, Georgie.” John ruffled his hair with his free hand. 

A pattering of very angered footsteps approached behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. Only one man could angrily footstep like that.

“What the hell was that, (y/n)?” Brian spun you around to look at him. Though you could tell that there was some softness in his eyes, and that he was perhaps worried just as much for you as for your reputation, he was still fuming. 

“Whaddya mean?” You fumbled out. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice. You were out of it tonight. Well? What was it? Weed? Cocaine? Alcohol? All of them?!”

“Scout’s honor, Brian, it was just a weird night.” Brian’s grip loosened on your shoulders, as he facepalmed. He looked back up at you sympathetically.

“You’re a little pale, (y/n), perhaps you should take an early night.” You peered over your shoulder, only to catch the lads instantly trying to pretend like they weren’t listening in on your conversation. You were going to go to a very fancy club tonight, and you had been looking for a chance to dress up. You looked back at Brian, who was almost sweating. Anything to ease his worry. 

“Alright, just this night. Even though I swear I’m fine.” 

“Right, right. Why don’t you head back with the equipment, and I’ll head out with the boys?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” You sighed and could feel your eyes droop. You trudged back to the black van and hauled yourself in the back, giving a small wave to Mal in the mirror. He nods understandingly. You shut the van doors. 

“Where’s she goin’?” You hear John bug Brian like a petulant child.

“Back to the hotel, I think.” 

“Killjoy.” Paul muttered.

George just watched the van leave over Ringo’s shoulder, whom he was deeply in conversation with. 

- time skip - 

It happened again. You had fucked up again. You’d missed some of your chords, your voice had cracked at one point, and not in the hot way, and your energy on stage was no longer a bubbly bounce, but a gentle, almost sleepy, swaying. 

Your fuck-up only really hit you after, though, as you had zoned out while you were on stage. 

You couldn’t go out to face the boys. You just couldn’t. You sat in your locked dressing room, head in your hands, as you stared at your knees trying not to pass out. Everything was blurry. 

You were awakened from your thoughts by a loud thumping. You could feel your stomach drop. It was an angry knock. Why did men always have to be so angry? 

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there.” It was John. Of course it was John. It was always John. He never knew when to stop. 

You leaned back in your chair, dazed, knowing full well that you didn’t have to let him in if you didn’t want to. You shakily pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the table and it it with your delicately engraved lighter while the pounding continued. He would die out there if he had to. 

“Whaddya want?” You blew a plume of smoke and coughed.

“Why are women always so dramatic? Just let me in, damnit!” 

“Not if you don’t stop acting like a petulant goddamn child!”

“Call me a child, will you? I’m not the one who can’t handle every goddamn concert. What? Are you too tired? Awww, I’m sorry. Do you need a nap?” 

You could feel your eyes brim with tears. You put out the cigarette, grabbed your bag, and opened the window. The wind blew in your face, and it was almost calming. Using the gymnastics skills that you had honed as a kid, you slunk out the window and onto the open street, your heels clacking on the pavement. You pulled a coat over your face and called a taxi, only offering cash but making sure to keep your looks relatively obscured. Back to the hotel, where you could sleep it all off.

- Time skip - 

You slept for 20 hours, and yet, you still woke up feeling all the worse. The clock read 4:00. You were about to be late for call. There was no shuffling outside, so you could assume that the lads had already left. Awesome. 

You fixed your hair, grabbed your guitar, called a limo, and added small touches of makeup on the ride there. You could barely feel anything anymore, and your body had gone completely numb. You chunked on foundation way more than usual as to hide the cold sweat and incredible paleness that your face had broken out in. Some of the powder drifted over your lips, and you felt a welling of stomach acid churn. 

You swallowed, took a deep breath, and your stomach calmed down once more. You were backstage. 

You thanked the cab driver before slipping through the back door, barely being able to make it open. The first thing you met was Brian having a panic attack, which actually made sense for once, as there was about 15 minutes until you were on stage. 

“(Y/n)! Where the bloody hell were you?!” The rest of the lads were behind him, speaking and looking at you like some high school girl’s clique. You shot them an angry, but weak, stare.

“No one woke me up.” 

“You look like death.” Paul piped up from the back.

“You’ll meet death very fuckin’ soon-” You had no time for any of the sass anymore, but a hand clamping on your shoulder cut you off. You looked up to your left, and were greeted by the face of Neil Aspinall. 

“That’s enough of that, (y/n), we have something to do.” He didn’t wait for your answer, but simply lead you backstage. You were far too dazed to resist, so you simply let him steer. 

“So, the company, not me, heard that you haven’t exactly been on your A-game lately, and they recommended something.” You nodded, still not listening.

“Apparently, a lot of rockstars use it, they heard about it from the manager of the Animals or something, so I thought we could give it a try. It’s supposed to help you get that burst of energy that you need.” He patted your shoulder joyfully.

“Now, this is all of the company’s doing, so, if you don’t want to take them, then I completely understand, and I’ll just tell them that you did, but I am supposed to mention them.” Neil’s voice drifted off. In front of you was a table with several small white pills and a glass of water. 

“No. I’ll take it. We gotta a show to do.” You were sure that Neil said something, but you didn’t hear, as you were too busy downing the pills and the water in one determined gulp. 

- Time skip - 

That night was the most energetic that you had been. Almost too energetic. Your eyes were shot and pink, though fortunately all of the audience was too far away to notice. Your playing was erratic and very harsh, though the screaming was too loud to hear. Your vocals, well, those would not be matched until some actual crackheads took the stage later. 

None of your actions felt deliberate, everything felt at the whim of the surges of energy jolting through your body, while your actual mind just felt more and more disconnected, and your stomach churned. The lights gave you a pulshing headache. 

Three-quaraters through the show, you began to come back to Earth again, though not because the drugs were wearing off, but because something else was beginning to emerge. You could feel it. The wave rising up in your stomach. You swallowed. You shouted the lyrics into the microphone. You put your all into the song, even though you no longer felt the energy. You were not going to mess up on stage again. 

Paul gave you some side-eye. Though the fans were absolutely eating up, he wasn’t buying your shtick. 

Finally, you made it to the last number. The crowd screamed. Your heart pounded in your chest. You were sweating like crazy, and your hair was sticking to your face. Your legs felt wobbly, but you thew a hand up and waved goodbye to the crowd, as well as to any sense of calm in your stomach. 

As you shambled off stage, Ringo scrambled up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder, steadying you. Oh god, even he knew and he couldn’t see your face. Your guitar was slung around your shoulder, but you forgot that it existed, and slammed it into a poor stagehand. 

With your last sense of control left, you removed our guitar the minute that you got off stage and handed it to said stagehand, who was highly confused, while you grabbed the nearest trashcan and heaved your entire stomach into it. Mind you, since you had slept for the last day, there were hardly contents to begin with, just raw stomach acid.

Your throat burned, you sweat, and your eyes wanted to do nothing but close. You could feel gentle hands pulling your hair back, while startled screams and yells rose up backstage. You didn’t care. You had fallen to your knees, taking the trashcan with you, still completely retching your stomach into anything that would take it. 

“What the hell did you do ta her?”

“It wasn’t me, it was that stuff that EMI sent over?” 

“What stuff?”

“I don’t know, pills, something!”

“You gave her pills? She’s clearly had the fucking flu, on top of dealing with your ridiculous schedule. 

“I just did what they told me to do!”

“Brian! I want you to end the contract with EMI right now.” 

“John, you don’t mean that, sit down.”

“I second.” 

“Paul, John, why don’t we all just-”

“No! If this is how they choose to treat people, to treat (y/n), then I don’t want anything to do with them. Look at what you’ve done to her!

“What I’ve done?! This is not just me, and you know it.”

“I never said give her fucking pills!” 

“You never say anything, you just yell!” 

“Mal, can you call an ambulance?”

“Already done, Georgie.” 

The vomit stopped, and you lifted your head up, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. Ringo’s hands gently fell from your hair. 

“No, no ambulance, I’m fine.” Your voice was so raspy, like your throat had been torn out. 

John, Paul, Brian, and Neil froze in the middle of their argument while George and Mal cocked their heads to look at you from the side. John only stayed quiet for a second.

“You’re not fine, you’re on fucking drugs!” He lurched forward, approaching you. You could feel your stomach quell again. You swallowed. 

“Any drug that I was on,” you breathed deeply, “is in there.” You pointed to the trashcan. 

“You’re being ridiculous, I-” 

“No! Fuck you! You don’t get to say shit!” that come out far louder than you expected. You stood at your full height, willing to handle the discomfort if it meant telling him off. You’d even surprised John/

“How the fuck can you pretend like I’m the one acting ridiculous right now considering all the shit that you said to me yesterday? How far does your fucking double standard go? Of all the sins you’ve committed, John Lennon, I never thought that hypocrisy would be one of them. Get a grip, goddamnit! This is just as much your fault as it is mine, and I know you know that, so look me in the eye and for a goddamn second confront the consequences of your actions!” You were breathing very heavily now, whether with anger or exhaustion, and you could feel a surge of energy come through you yet again, though this time you weren’t sure if it was the drug.

You lunged at John, aiming your fist at his face. Everyone suddenly shifted into action all of a sudden, with George and Ringo holding you back and Paul pulling John away, though you noted that Paul refused to look John in the eye. 

“Woah, woah, (y/n), take it easy. Calm down. It’s alright, it’s alright.” You could hear George softly try to calm you, though your heavy breathing continued, and at some point along the way, you ended up crying into his shoulder as Ringo patted your back. 

“Come on, you’ve done enough.” You heard footsteps shuffle away, followed shortly after by another pair, leaving you, George, Ringo, and a very awkward Mal.

You cried until there were no tears left to cry. Your legs got tired from standing at some point, so you simply sat down, with George and Ringo joining you as Mal left to explain to the ambulance that they wouldn’t be needing their services today. 

You swallowed, and you could feel the tears begin to stick to your cheeks.

“We should probably go back to the hotel.” You leaned against George’s shoulder pensively.

“If you’re up to it, Birdie.” 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

You stood up weakly as Ringo wrapped his jacket around you. The three of you returned to the hotel without another word.

- Time skip -

You, George, and Ringo, slowly creaked open the door to your shared massive suite. Paul sat in the middle of the room, a beam of moonlight illuminating his face, legs crossed, just as he was waiting for you. John was nowhere to be seen.

“There you are!” he said in a stage whisper, “I was worried sick!” He rose from his chair and approached your trio. 

Before you could even anticipate what he was doing and protest, he wrapped you in a very warm hug. He was always good at those. He held you like he was afraid to lose you, and you used what strength you had left to return it with all your might, as if you were afraid to lose him. The two of you stayed like that for a minute, without words, before he separated. 

“You best get some sleep. All of you.” His eyes traveled to George and Ringo, and it was clear that there was no more room for negotiation.

The three of you gently drifted into your rooms with Paul watching you all leave. The minute your face touched your pillow, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

- Time skip -

God only knows how long you had slept, but the growling of your stomach woke you up next morning. You felt a lot better, at least, and the mothering of Paul, making sure that you ate and drank enough, and that you didn’t need anything, made sure that you were gradually on your way to some form of recovery. 

Paul, as you had learned, was originally the one who had postulated that you had some form of the flu, and the symptoms proved his predictions correct. Thankfully, he was well equipped to care for people with the flu, having done so for his family growing up, so he knew all of the common remedies. 

John was still nowhere to be found, but George and Ringo emerged from their rooms one by one, and the four of you lazed around, reading papers and watching the news, for the rest of the morning. 

When you finally asked where John was, Paul answered that he had gotten up early and gone for a walk. Pretty long walk, you guessed, but didn’t pry. 

At noon, there was a gentle knock on the door. Paul admitted a very sheepish looking Brian into the suite. He approached the table. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You took a long sip of water.

“I’m alright, better than yesterday.” 

“That’s good.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck. There were other things on his mind. 

“Um, I wanted to apologize, on behalf of me, and Neil, who is speaking to the company at this point, he’s trying to-” 

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, pausing to gather your thoughts, “No, really, it is. You didn’t know, and neither did I, and neither did Neil. And I’m alive. Now we just know not to do it again.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you shifted in our seat to grab the tea pot, though Brian shook his head, “No, no, I must be going, we’re traveling again today. But, enjoy your tea, and I’ll see you in a few.” 

You nodded sagely. Brian began to take his leave, but halfway through the door, he turned around to look at the solemn crowd.

“You know, you all really do mean a lot to me. I promise you that. Not as clients, but people. This will not happen again.” And with that, he left.

- Time skip (last one, we’re almost done folks) - 

“I’ll take that.” John grabbed the large box off your hands, and you squeaked with surprise. His face twisted into an unfamiliar expression of damaged concern almost instantly.

“Oh, sorry, I just didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Yeah, I was on a walk this morning.” He continued to struggle with the box. You’d finally had enough of it, and leaned in to help him haul it to the top of the shelf in the crate. 

The two of you stood there awkwardly, both refusing to look the other in the eye.

“I-”

“You-”

You both began speaking at the same time, interrupting eachother. 

“You go first. “ He offered.

“No, no, I’ve said enough.” You waved your hands defensively.

“So have I.” He chuckled. 

Another awkward silence. 

“I guess,” he began, “I’m sorry for saying that shit to you. I was stressed, angry, and I know that’s not an excuse, but then you got on the drugs, and I was so worried, and I guess I just never realized...” he trailed off, realizing that he was just on the verge of not making sense. He took a deep breath. 

“I guess, what I”m trying to say is that I would never, ever, want you to do what you had to do there. It wasn’t fair of me to put that kind of pressure on you, and everyone else. And, you didn’t hear it from me, but I’ll try to do better.” 

You chuckled lightly. 

“That sounds like a plan. And, I guess I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. I just let you get worried about me, stupidly thinking that I could handle it all by myself, and I just totally forgot about everyone else. It’s kind of ironic that I, uh, snapped at you about how  your actions affect others, when I did the same exact thing. So, uh, I’ll work on that too.”

You swore you could see the smallest bit of a smile on his face. The first one in a while.

“Well then,” he thrust out his hand, “let’s make that a deal. Mutual forgiveness, and hopefully, mutual progress”

You took his warm hand in yours.

“You got it, John.”

[somekeepsakes]

German interview with Peter (May 20, 2019) on drugs, love and new beginnings

I noticed that another version of the interview with Peter which @koidivisions translated some weeks back has emerged. The newer, longer, and presumably full(?) version can be found here. I’m only adding the translation for the bits that were missing in the earlier version. Since there are quite a few of them, maybe some of you are interested in reading the entire thing.

cut cut cut and off you go

Why did Hamburg change you so much? I felt privileged that Johann Scheerer opened his door for me. He trusted me.

He said: "You may live in the apartment and use the studio." He gave me his house key at a time when not even my own family would have trusted me with a key. Yes, it was a wonderful time in Hamburg! It was a shame that there was such resentment between my management at that time and the people from Clouds Hill as, much to the dismay of my management, there was someone who trusted me; that I stayed in Germany, recorded music, and took more control.

Did you feel something close to freedom? Yes, I believe so, there were no paparazzi lurking around every corner. And doing spontaneous gigs in the Golem, this wickedly expensive place, was great. I loved it there.

For some people, you’re a gifted song poet, whereas others tend to associate you with your drug antics. Yes, they believe me to be a caricature. There are even people who are disappointed when they meet me and I’m not all fucked up. This is really sad. But, then, it used to be like that for a long time. There used to be all these negative stories about me that had a nasty pic of me attached to them all the time.

And on the few days where I was alright, they manipulated the picture, or took one of me sneezing. This really killed me. It inwardly killed me.

And everything went hand in hand… The police were obsessed with getting hold of me. They arrested me repeatedly. That made me feel as if I was a dangerous person or a threat to society. That was sheer insanity.

But you’re out of the woods now? That’d be wonderful. But addiction is an illness – a mental illness. It’s self-destructive…

How safe are you feeling right now? Difficult to say. I’m feeling safe. But if I think about it, I don’t actually know what feeling safe means. At least I don’t want to go back to where I was.

[Regarding Margate] But why did you buy a hotel there? Because it was so cheap, so incredibly cheap!

It was said to be the most rundown hotel in Kent or even in England. That’s not entirely fair. The Nigerian woman who ran it had a bad reputation because she used to kick people out of the hotel whenever they complained. But saying that it was the worst hotel… No, I went to one in Aberdeen once which was worse!

And you invested money in yours? Sure, the whole thing was Carl’s idea. He decided that The Libertines needed headquarters. He then found this old five-storey townhouse. He didn’t pay me for five festival gigs for he knows I’m prone to wasting money. The others saved their share. And now I’m one of six investors.

Our studio has already been finished, and the hotel is supposed to come about bit by bit. The liquor licence is also there already so that Carl is able to open a bar beneath the hotel. The bar is going to be called "Wasteland" like the book by T.S. Eliot who lived four doors away. His father owned a bed and breakfast in Margate 100 years ago.

It’s supposed to become something similar to Andy Warhol’s "Factory". The Margate version of it. Carl wants to gradually set it up in a way so that different artists will be able to live and work under the same roof.

You’re said to have started a company for that business. I’ve read that article, too. What a load of bollocks! It said that I was worth 5.3 million pounds – crazy! Carl was really angry when he read that since he’s the businessman among the two of us. I would be completely unfit for a thing like that.

[Regarding the cat incident] There’ve been worse stories about you. And still, you were angry about it? Sure, because it was this incident that brought paparazzi to my doorstep again. That was the first time in two years, prior to that, everything was peaceful. There were no negative stories about me. And even on this day, I was kind towards the photographers. But they didn’t like that.

They claimed that I stood there in the doorway laughing. It broke my heart cause I love animals. And I love cats.

Does the sea inspire you? Tremendously! Every morning when I step outside. The light is unbelievable and the dark, wild sea – it’s calling for me. Sometimes, that’s dangerous. I’d like to run naked into the sea.

But so far you haven’t answered the call? I will do so in summer. Due to their arctic background, my dogs are used to freezing temperatures. They can step into the water when it’s cold, and they love it. But it’s not as nice as it may sound for humans in Margate.

In what way? We get these weird weather fronts. Every ten years, über-storms are causing serious damage. Just last week, the roof of the huge Tesco market got blown away, just like that. The buildings can take a lot but there are also lots of tunnels beneath the bases of the houses which were constructed in old smuggler times. That’s why the whole thing is unstable and causes buildings to collapse. It really is a weird place, Margate.

[Regarding the Puta Madres album] It probably won’t make you rich. That’s the reason why Drew isn’t part of the band. He preferred to make money while touring with Liam Gallagher. But it’s not always about money even if I’m not less greedy than others.

But I also know what damage money can cause. I need to take care of myself so that I’m not going to suffer from tunnel vision and therefore miss the genuine things that inspired me at a time when I didn’t have any money. If we make any money with that, which would be great for us, we’re going to build our own studio.

You’ve recorded the album overlooking a fishing village in the municipality of Étretat in the Normandy. Why not in Margate? Because Carl insisted that the new studio would be Libertines only. So we went to France where the family of our keyboarder Katia lives. That was great because we were able to record the album within a few days. Just like the Beatles did with their first album: one microphone in the room, press record, play the songs, and go back home.

[Regarding Someone Else To Be] Why do you quote Oasis in this particular song? "Please don’t put your life in the hands of a rock’n’roll band" has always been one of my favourite lines from a song. The warning it includes is probably justified.

[Regarding his stance on relationships] As complicated as Brexit? That is indeed complicated for the Puta Madres as so many nationalities come together in this band! We need to move freely, otherwise the knell will sound for us. But we’ll somehow find our way to France, Spain and Germany.

Where does the funny "Puta Madres" band name which literally translates as "goddamn mothers" come from by the way ? "Ah, it’s the puta madre!" – our drummer Rafa used to say that very often in the beginning when he referred to something positive as well as to something negative or something inbetween.

I didn’t really know what it meant but thought we might use that as our band name. Everyone says that in Spain and South America and it means "fucking hell".

It’s a casual curse word like "motherfuckers". It means everything and nothing. Technically speaking, it refers to the mother of a prostitute.

Do you speak Spanish? Sí. There’s a bit of German, a bit of Spanish, and a bit of French on the album.

How are your German skills? (in German) Not that good.

Do you have a favourite German word? Radiergummi! And I also like Creutzfeldt-Jakob and Methadon.

You presumably were given the latter as a substitute during rehab? Yeah, sure, horrible stuff. Sickly sweet. I call it the bad absinth.

Do you still think about Amy Winehouse? Yes, often. Constantly, actually. I met a girl called Jade Goldsworthy, an incredible singer. She reminds me so much of Amy. She hasn’t recorded anything yet, we’ve only met. But I’m planning to release something with her. We’re working on it. Amy would’ve loved her. I’m sure of that.

And The Libertines will continue as well? Of course, forever! Carl and I are stronger than ever.

Are you working on the new Libertines record at the moment? Yeah, but it was all a bit tragic. Ollie, The Prodigy’s guitarist, came round and wanted to help Carl and me with writing and producing. The next day, the news of Keith’s death – who was also a friend of Carl’s – broke. He committed suicide. The last thing Ollie texted Keith was a picture of my dogs as Keith was a fellow husky lover. And Keith replied saying how beautiful they were. And the next day, he hanged himself. We haven’t seen Ollie since.

How did you react to Flint’s death? I listened to all the old Prodigy records. There’s unbelievably good stuff among them, sometimes scaringly sinister.

Given the many deaths surrounding you, do you ask yourself why you’re still alive? No, I don’t think about that.

There are lots of discussions going on at the moment about whether it’s appropriate for radio stations to still play Michael Jackson songs or not. How do you see it: Should we separate an artist’s work from the artist? Wow – that’s a damn good question! His songs are being played every few seconds somewhere in the world. It’s amazing music, some of the best songs ever written. It’d be a fucked-up situation if he’s guilty… A part of me would die – a major part of my childhood. I loved his music.

Did you see the documentary? No, the film might have a significant impact on me – I can’t bring myself to watch it at the moment. I need to be careful with it, it’s too important. Michael Jackson used to be such an important factor in my life. It’s similar to Woody Allen: He’s a great filmmaker, he’s got a good sense of humour. It would annihilate so much culture if we didn’t separate an artist’s work from the private individual. But it’s tricky.

[antho-logy]

Hi Miles,

I understand that you moved around a bit in your younger years; being born in South Australia before heading north-east to Ballina and Brisbane. Did the consistent moving around allow you to pick up new musical influences on the road or did your musical taste and style grow in a more insular way? I’ve never been to Brisbane - but I imagine as a young lad with budding interests in punk and alternative rock that it would have been hard not to be impacted by bands like The Saints and The Go-Betweens, especially if one was living in the place where both bands (and other contemporaries) first cut their teeth.

Miles: My family brought me up on a good mix of music. My grandparents were always playing classical music, real dramatic stuff. Then my mum and dad listened to heaps of 60's and 70’s bands like the Beatles, Bowie, Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane etc. Mum ran away from home when she wasn’t allowed to go see the Beatles in 64’. My brother also introduced me to loads of interesting stuff ranging from Britpop to Sebadoh to Dr Octagon. We both were into skateboarding BIGTIME and skate videos were always a rich source for music too. I’d say my time in Brisbane introduced me to more of the lesser known punk type stuff and going to see live local bands. Like you say, Brisbane has a good history with punk music and it was for sure evident in the music scene there. Go-Betweens records were always spinning at mates’ houses. I lived on Petrie Terrace in Paddington real close to the “Saints house” and every time I'd pass I would stare at it like it had magic powers or something.

Turning now to your lyrics, in particular those of a satirical nature found in songs like 'Photo Op', 'Work/Life, Gym Etc', and a newish one - that (as far I know) hasn't been released - which mentions Clive Palmer in some capacity (I've only ever seen it live and whilst pissed so my memory of what the lyrics specifically entail is hazy to say the least), do you feel you have a responsibility to include your take on sociopolitical issues in your songs? Especially in a world that is seemingly so fucked? Or is this something that just comes naturally to you - perhaps subconsciously informed by the music you listen to? (there are definitely some clear similarities between your words and that of The Fall's Mark E Smith).

Miles: I'm not sure I feel a responsibility to do so. I think it’s more of an outlet to life's frustrations and oddities. I think that with all of the world's current skullfuckery comes a certain amount of hopelessness and feeling powerless. I’ve tried writing love songs or more positive stuff but I'm not very good at it. I’m more interested in creating tension in music not good vibes. There are admittedly similarities and it's no secret I’m a huge fan of the Fall. I think I was initially drawn to MES because he was singing about stuff I was interested in, like history and taking the piss. I've been an avid reader of history books since I was a kid and have watched every bloody war film and doco out there and have always been a fan of taking the piss. I write about what I know over the top of odd sounding guitar music, which at times can be pretty Fall-esque.

Now, this question is one from a place of curiosity based on my observations, as opposed to criticism (as you know I am a big fan of The Shifters), but I have noticed that your sound and that of The Shifters has remained pretty consistent throughout your discography. Do you have any aspirations of taking the sound of The Shifters in a different direction whilst still maintaining the band's musical identity? Or have you considered taking part in the prevailing trend of Melbourne musos seemingly needing to play in a dozen bands at once? Are there other creative avenues that you think you could be expressing yourself through that are limited by The Shifters' already established sound? Again, I love the band's sound as it is, so if it never changes I think myself and fellow punters will cope.

Miles: Well I doubt we will be doing any classical rap/jazz or metal fusion records anytime soon. I think the next album will be weirder. All the new demos for it sound like they could be used in a sneaky spy film or something, which I’m diggin’. SPYTONES. It’s a hot new Melbourne genre. HA! I don’t feel the need to be in other bands really. The Shifters scratches my musical itch. We write a lot more music than what's on the records. I’m always recording music at home that only some friends and the band hear. I even did a Cher rendition a while ago! One day I might make a cassette or something of some it. Sometimes I like my home versions of songs more than when the band do them.

This is a bit of a cop out, but I remember that in our chat outside the Curtin you were saying something about the Melbourne music scene, and that it made more money for the city than the footy? Or was it all sports combined? Or have I made this up? If you remember what I'm talking about, please elaborate - 'cause while I can't really remember the conversation, I do recall it being very interesting.

Miles: I was reciting some stats to you that I read somewhere (I think it was the ABC) about the AFL grand final weekend and how live music for that weekend generated more money for Melbourne than the football did. I'm not totally sure how valid the source was though but it's pretty interesting if true.

Is the album title a reference to Tony Robinson's character in Blackadder?

Miles: It sure is. We were recording with Al Montford at his place discussing titles. We were enjoying throwing around ones similar to it like The Shifters are Bored Stiff, or The Shifters aren't Home as we just did that 7” called The Shifters Just Sat Down, then Al suggested Have a Cunning Plan, and I thought it was hilarious and we rolled with it. I LOVE Blackadder.  

As I mentioned, there are quite a few songs in your live set that are yet to be released. Naturally, I must ask when will we receive the gift of new music from The Shifters?

Miles: We have a new 7” coming out in the new year. I don’t think I can say by who yet but it’s being announced really soon. There’s also a live in France cassette coming out at some stage and we are busy writing stuff for a new LP next year!  

Also, please speak to whoever you gotta speak to about putting the 2018 demo tape on Spotify. It slaps!

Miles: Hahaha. Yes, will do. That’s another job on the to-do list. To put all the records on Spotify and generally try a bit harder in the admin department as I'm sure we are the laziest band in town when it comes to self-promotion and general organisation. We’ve a manager/minder type kind soul taking over all that side of things really soon as I'm hopeless at it all.

Cheers Miles and I look forward to whatever’s next for The Shifters.

Miles: Thanks for having me Anthony.

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 7

He’s smoking on the porch in May whilst his mum and Dom bicker as they try to get the fire started inside the house. The smell of smoke is seeping through the open window from both sides, along with the sound of their harmless back-and-forth, but it doesn’t sound like they’re having much luck as Dom huffs, “it’s going out again.”

He’s staying with them tonight, not because he needs to (everything with Jules and Oscar is fine, the black eye long forgotten -- well, he never remembered it in the first place and even if Jules is lying about having no memory of it, the bruise has faded to yellow now and Curly’s not one to hold a grudge, so who gives a toss?) but because he’s made the executive decision to take tomorrow off from parties and deals, so had no plans for tonight.

That and he just... sort of really missed his mum, to be quite honest.

She doesn’t like that he smokes (he doesn’t tell her that he’s been doing it since before he left school, but he reckons he’s too old now to keep it a secret) or his tattoos or how he dresses and she makes sure to say this every chance she gets, but she loves him and she says that wherever she can too. He’s just felt a bit like he’s needed that recently - both the care and criticism.

Maybe it’s because he’s not been in such a domestic setting with his mother since he was eighteen, but something about this makes him feel like a teenager again. He doesn’t mind regressing for a bit; could do with the break, really.

He’s showered and changed back into his jeans and an old t-shirt, thick hair still damp as the wind cools the back of his neck. His mum had fussed over him like she does (“you’ll catch your death if you go outside like that!”) but he hasn’t had a fag since this morning and just wants to get it out of the way so he can relax for the rest of the night.

“El!” She knocks on the window and he turns to smile as his mum waves him back inside. “Come have a look at this. Dom’s bloody useless.”

“I’m not useless, the wood is damp,” he hears Dom call as Curly stomps out his cigarette and makes his way back inside.

The wood is damp and Curly can’t start the fire either. Instead, his mum and Dom share a blanket on the sofa and he hogs his own on the recliner. Dom knows how to get hold of dodgy DVDs and they watch a new thriller with Shia LaBeouf in it. It’s surprisingly comfortable, despite barely knowing his mum’s new fella, and they have a laugh and make daft narrations to make the film feel less intense, like the two of them would do back in the day.

About halfway through, Dom calls it a night (Curls reckons he’s spooked by the movie) and heads upstairs, so Curly joins his mum on the sofa and falls asleep with his cheek smushed against her shoulder sometime after Shia snogs some pretty girl on a balcony on-screen.

He remembers getting changed in the downstairs toilet but must have been half-sleepwalking when he went to bed because, when he wakes up in the middle of the night to toss his shirt off to one side, he doesn’t remember how he got there.

***

He doesn’t really take the room in until the morning; blue and green, just like he left it. A few books he never read (and never will read) still line the shelf over his desk along with old trinkets, an empty Voltswaggen Beatle-shaped piggy bank (that he considers taking back to the flat with him to store is pre-rolls so Oscar can’t nick them again) and a Gameboy Advance (that’s not worked since before he even moved to England but has a mint Finial Fantasy casing that he wasn’t prepared to sacrifice to the scrapyard, and still wouldn’t dream of it now).

Moving from England to America meant days of clearing his childhood room of shit he’d forgotten was ever even there. It’s scary just how few things of sentimental value he actually had once it came down to it. In the end, he filled a Dr. Martens box with things he just couldn’t part with, but he hasn’t got the foggiest idea where that even is now. Collecting dust in his mum’s loft, maybe.

Even without the extra baggage, Curly always had a hard time keeping on top of tidying in his room; anything from dirty washing to freshly dried laundry piling up; a ‘floordrobe’, his mum had called it. The itchy carpet is visible now he’s not there to clutter it and his wardrobe has even fewer clothes than it had when he slept in the room, which wasn’t much to begin with; too idle to buy clothes he’d never have a reason to wear.

His wardrobe in the flat isn’t exactly bursting, but it speaks volumes on his social life.

Despite the homeliness of the rest of this house, his bedroom is a weird mix of comfort and sadness. It feels familiar - the day they painted the walls was nice, and putting the bed frame up was the most hilarious two hours he’s ever shared with his mum - but it also feels lonely and cold, memories of hours spent alone when his mum was at work and the rest of the house felt too big and depressing when it was just him there to fill it.

The sound of bickering pulls him from his thoughts and Curls heads downstairs where a full English breakfast is waiting for him. His mum and Dom fall silent just as he steps into the kitchen but he’s not sure why they stand down on his account.

He decides to feign ignorance. “Morning,” he grumbles and his belly does the same.

Dom returns the greeting, says, “I was about to call you down,” as his mum smiles stiffly and slides an egg out of the pan and onto the last plate. She places it onto the table and goes back for the other two. Curly takes a seat, rubbing his palm over his chest (where his latest tattoo is exposed and still healing and itchy) as he thanks her.

The room is filled with dry coughs, sniffs and shuffling in seats as they begin to eat and, as the air thickens, he begins to wonder what exactly it was that he’d walked in on earlier. Was the argument more serious than he’d thought? It feels like somebody’s about to break some bad news and his mum keeps exchanging looks with her boyfriend, who gives the same look back as if to say no, you.

“Is everything—“ Curly begins, right as the other two say, “Elliot,” and, “Curly,” in unison. They all fall silent again, discouraged, until Curls clears his throat, asks, “what?”

For a second he thinks they’re back to square one, everyone exchanging expectant looks, pushing each other to speak. Eventually, though, Dom huffs and pushes himself away from the table, leaving the room. ‘The last thing we need is privacy,’ Curly thinks as the tension only gets thicker now it’s just the two of them.

A similar scene comes to mind: his mum sat opposite him at the kitchen table in Essex as she says “we still love each other. We’re just not in love anymore, El. Does that make sense?”

But then, Dom is a good bloke with great music taste and a mint sense of humour and everything, but Curly’s sure even his mum must see that this kind of confessional is a really unnecessary way to tell him that her six-month-old relationship isn’t working out.

His mum takes her hair down just to tie it back into a bun again, looking anywhere but in his direction, but then Dom’s back again with Curly’s bag in his hand. It’s open as he places it on the table.

So it’s not them; it’s him. Okay, well. Fuck.

Nobody says anything as Curly racks his brain for what they could possibly have seen and they seem to be waiting, giving him the chance to own up before they accuse him. His fake ID, maybe? Does he still have a bowl in there? It could be his flip phone, filled with messages from dealers and buyers, but that’s been dead since last night. Maybe she saw his knife - but that’s only there because he doesn’t like to leave it in his car, but Jules had warned him about that one bloke in Holbrook, not that he ever got around to meeting— Oh shit.

“Cocaine, Elliot?” His mum looks deflated, he now notices. She looks tired and nervous. When had she found it? This morning? Last night? How long has she-- “How long have you been taking cocaine? And in my house?”

Okay, well shit. He’s clawing for an excuse that won’t dig him into an even deeper hole as Dom pulls a chair up next to his mother. He feels like he’s back in custody. Curly slowly places his utensils down on his near-full plate.

“Mum,” he begins, swallowing just to stall. “It’s not coke.” He has to remind himself that he’s a grown up now - he doesn’t need to sit wringing his hands like a guilty child. He finds the nerve to say, “it’s heroin—“

“Oh my—“

“It’s not mine!” He can’t stand to see her the way she is: hand over her chest in shock as Dom rubs her shoulder in reassurance. So he blurts out the lies- just white lies. “It’s for a mate. I didn’t— I was meant to drop it off before I got here but it didn’t work out.” It’s basically the truth.

Dom says, “Curly do you realise—“

“I know. I know it’s bad, yeah? But it’s not mine.” He wants to say ‘I’d never do anything like that,’ but he’s trying to keep the falsities to a minimum. “He’s not even a mate, really. A friend of a friend.”

“Who? The guy you’re holding drugs for isn’t even somebody you know?” Dom again. “He’s just some—”

“Oh, wind your neck in, Dom,” he snaps, caught up in a moment's panic. He stutters a bit for more words but settles for a long groan as he pushes his plate away before burying his face in his hands. “Sorry.” He takes a few breaths, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out exactly where to go from here. He looks up again, mentally refreshed and says, “sorry. I’m sorry… For snapping and for the drugs. Listen though: I’m twenty, I’m not a mug. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, so do I: you’re carrying drugs, Elliot,” his mum amends. “Is this something to do with Jules? I knew that boy didn’t seem right.”

“Mum, you met him once in a supermarket - you don’t know anything. He was buying chicken and rice, for Christ sake, he wasn’t exactly--” He huffs - pauses before he says something that’ll bite him in the arse. “Anyway, it’s got nothing to do with Jules. It’s just a favour - a one-time favour. Let’s not ignore the fact that you went in my bag, yeah?”

She shakes her head defensively, says, “for your clothes. You fell asleep in your jeans.”

He decides against saying, ‘I’ve fallen asleep in worse conditions.’ Strikes a massive, thick line right through that argument.

It takes him long enough, but he gets his mum to calm down not too long after breakfast’s gone cold. He swears he’ll keep out of it all once the H is out of his hands and he apologises again and again and then once more later on when he’s at the front door with his bag over one shoulder, saying goodbye.

“I know you’re not stupid,” his mum says when he’s hunched in on himself guiltily, buried in a thick leather trench coat and scuffing chunky black boots against the porch. “But be careful.”

Curls just nods, pulls her into a hug and presses a kiss to her cheek. “See you soon,” he says, then nods towards Dom over her shoulder before he turns towards the street.

“Oh, El?”

He turns just as he’s pushing the key into his car door.

“Give your dad a call--” she reminds him, smiling through a sigh as she folds her arms over her front like mums do. “--or he’ll keep calling me. He—”

“Misses me, I know.” He waves his hands, feels guilty. He’s seen the texts and heard the voicemails from both his dad and his sister - keeps forgetting to reply, or just can’t bring himself to do so. “I’ll call them.”

His mother nods. “I love you.”

“You too, mum,” he says as he pulls open his car door, smiles, then ducks inside.

He pulls away from the curb and has his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear before he’s even turned out of the street.

“Jules, mate, I need a fat spliff - you won’t fucking believe what’s just happened.”

[tibblss]

Part two

Based off of @frostyuris post 

“I dare you to look me in the face and tell me richie tozier hasn’t kissed every member of the losers club at least once.” 

Read part one here

Also I’m just so happy that people liked it? I was kinda nervous about posting it because I wasn’t sure if anyone would wanna read it, much less want the second part. Thanks for all the love. 

(Talk Too Much by COIN, Kiss by Prince, and I Want To Kiss You by Spook School are all like, moods for this fic.) (also I didn’t mean for it to be this long whoops.)

For the next couple of months everything went as normal. School started to get more serious, junior year hitting the losers club hard. Classes weren’t as easy (save for maybe for Stan and Richie), jobs were basically a necessity, there was a lot of studying for the SAT, and it seemed like everyone was busy all the time. 

Richie didn’t want to think about how they all needed to move away for college soon, and didn’t want to talk about it. Every time one of the losers brought the subject up he was quick to make a joke and change the topic. 

“Richie why don’t you ever wanna talk about college?”

“I don’t know Eds, I’d rather just talk about your mom.”

He wasn’t bitter.

It was around the end of September when Richie kissed Bill. They didn’t talk about it but Richie noticed the look in Bill’s eyes every time Bill looked at Stan. Stan wasn’t oblivious to the heart eyes, just a little scared he was receiving mixed signals.

It was now the end of December and the start of Christmas break. The Losers decided to have a sleepover at Bill’s, since Georgie and their parents decided that they wanted to visit the Grandparents this year. Bill decided to stay home, someone needed to feed the hamster. 

A few hours after school ended the losers met up at Bill’s house, one by one, equipped with pillows and blankets and some liquor from Richie and Bev. By the time all of their stuff was in the living room and Can’t Buy Me Love was playing on the TV, Bill and Bev were sipping on some beers that Bev stole from her dad and whispering in hushed voices, casting glances at Stanley. Its a bit ironic that Bill was talking about his crush to his other crush. 

By 9:00 everyone was tipsy, splayed over each other in a cuddle pile while they watched Back To The Future, per Mike’s request. It isn’t long before Richie gets antsy and lets out a loud sigh. 

“What now?” Comes Eddie’s annoyed voice, accompanied by a chuckle from Stan. 

“I’m boooooored.” 

“W-well what-t do you w-wan-na do?” Bill asked as he sat up, causing Bev to whine since she no longer could rest her head on his stomach. 

Bev sat up too, “Let’s play spin the bottle!” she grinned. 

A chorus of grumbles sounded as all of the losers got up and arranged themselves in a circle on the floor. Bev grabbed an empty beer bottle and placed it in the middle and yelled “NOSE GOES.” In an instant everyone had their fingers on the tip of their nose except for Bill, who sighed. 

“You guys k-know I’m the s-s-slowest at th-that.” He mumbled as he leaned into the center and spun the bottle. 

“Wait guys are we playing the seven minutes in heaven version or just like the kissing version?” Eddie asked as the bottle continued to spin. 

“I don’t care, we’ll play the seven minutes version.” Bev replied with a shrug. 

The bottle made four full circles before settling between Stan and Richie. Everyone laughed except for Bill, who’s cheeks were beginning to redden. Richie stands up first and pulls Stan to his feet, then crosses the circle and extends a hand to Bill. Bill gulps and gives Richie his hand. 

They go to the closet under the stairs, since it has enough room for the three of them, and Stan closes the door. 

“We don’t have to do anything Bill.” Bill jumped at the sound of Stan’s voice, and met Stan’s soft smile with a grimace. “You don’t have to kiss either of us.” 

Stan turned to Richie, and it may have been the alcohol, or the mood, or the fact that Bill was there, but Stan just needed to kiss somebody, even if that somebody wasn’t Bill. Richie wasn’t bad to look at, he had wild curls and flushed cheeks and a dopey smile on his lips and brightly colored bandages covering the scrapes on his elbows from falling off of his skateboard. So Stan cupped his cheek and brought their lips together, glancing at Bill while they were kissing. 

Richie lets his eyes fall shut as Stan kissed him gently, and lets his hands fall to Stan’s slender hips. As he moves his mouth against Stan’s he opens one eye to peek at Bill, who is a lot more flustered than he was when they entered the closet. Then he notices that Stan is also watching Bill, and closes his eyes and kisses Stan harder, bringing one hand up into Stan’s hair. After a couple of minutes they pull apart.

Bill just keeps looking at Stan’s lips, and Stan turns to him and grabs his hand. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” Stan whispers, and for a second they forget Richie is there. Bill nods his head and exhales shakily when Stan crowds up into his personal space more than he already was. Bill shivered in anticipation. 

Richie could swear he saw literal sparks fly. 

As Stan was kissing Bill, Richie came up behind Stan and started to kiss his neck. 

Then they were being interrupted by a knock on the door and Bev’s voice yelling, “Please put your pants back on and come back to the living room.” and the ensuing cackles. 

By the time February rolled around everybody sorta forgot about the kisses, except for Richie of course. Within the span of half a year he kissed four out of six of his best friends. He still gave Bev little domestic kisses as a greeting and they laugh every time somebody asks if they’re dating. 

“Hey, Haystack!” Richie drawls in a southern accent, while slinging his arm around Ben’s shoulders and leaning on him as they walk down the hall, off to physics together. 

“Yes, Richie?” Ben sighed. He loved Richie, but he also loved peace and quiet. 

“Do you wanna study for the ACT later? It’s less than a month away, y’know.” 

“Ugh don’t remind me, my math skills aren’t the best. Yeah, do you wanna meet up at the library after school?” Ben huffed as he sat in his chair at the front of the class, then turning around to stare at Richie as he sat in the seat behind him. 

“Only if I get to drive.” Richie grinned toothily. Ben just chuckled and turned around in his seat. 

Richie was the only loser who hadn’t had his own car yet, besides Eddie who still only had his permit. Richie was the first to get his license but last to get a car, how ironic. He seized every opportunity to drive that he could.

So after school Richie met Ben at his locker and then they walked, well Richie bounced, out to Ben’s shitty old car. “A shitty car is better than no car.” Richie had once said when Ben was complaining about the quality. Ben had supposed Rich was right. 

Richie drove fast and wild on the short drive to the library, Ben swearing and yelling at him the whole time. 

“Rich, you’re driving is too wild.” 

“Yeah but did you die?” 

“Shut up.”

Once they walk into the library Ben greets the librarian, and they go to Ben’s favorite spot in the library: a quiet little corner that has a couch and a table with a couple of chairs, nothing too noteworthy but it’s tucked away and no one would disturb them there. Ben took his study time very seriously. 

Richie laid his backpack down on the shag rug and then sat down next to it with his legs crossed, beginning to pull out his ACT prep book and his walkman, so that they could at least faintly hear some music.  Richie had a mixtape playing and She Came In Through the Bathroom Window by The Beatles played quietly through Richie’s beat up headphones. 

“So you wanted to study for math first right? We can go over strategy and then do a couple of practice quizzes.” Richie asked as he shifted, sprawling out over the rug. Ben nodded his head and sat down in front of Richie, laying his notebook and pen in his lap. 

Richie started talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking-

“Ben are you even paying attention?” Richie snapped as he sat up. “Dude, I’ve been talking about the math section of the ACT for the past five minutes. This isn’t even one I need to study for, I got like a 31 on it.” 

“I’m sorry Rich, I can’t really focus right now.” Ben sighed, biting his lip. “Bev kinda... asked me out. We’re going to the Aladdin and out to eat this Friday.” 

“Christ, Haystack! That’s great.” Richie yelled, receiving a loud shush from somewhere in the library. 

“I’m just like, worried that she’ll kiss me and I won’t be good at it.” Ben whispered, blushing. He’s had his first kiss already, when he was little. He was nine and this girl Jessica, who had wild hair like Richie’s, kissed him while he was sitting on a swing, then ran away and giggled with her friends. He later found out that it was on a dare, which hurt a little bit. 

“You could practice on me.” Richie suggests casually, which causes Ben to choke on his breath. Ben hasn’t really thought about kissing a boy, but it can’t be much different than kissing a girl right? So he catches his breath and nods, and moves his notebook and pen to the side with shaky hands. 

Richie moves a little closer and looks around to make sure no one could see them, because even if all of the losers were accepting and didn’t care about this kind of stuff, they still lived in Derry. He tilted Ben’s face up with a finger under his chin, and leaned in to close the gap between them. Richie starts off with short, chaste kisses, mumbling “relax” between a couple. The kisses start to linger and elongate, Ben starting to get more into them and kissing back enthusiastically. Ben gasps when Richie darts his tongue out and licks Ben’s lips, letting Richie lick into his mouth. 

Richie then pulls away, smiling at Ben. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Haystack.” 

Two months later the losers got their ACT scores back, Richie was very pleased to see that his score was better than his first ACT, getting a composite of 30. Ben got a 26 on the math portion, a 28 overall, and Bev attacked him with kisses. Bev got a 27, Bill got a 26, Eddie got a 28, and Stan got a 32. Everyone was so proud of each other, and now that it was April and rainy and they were all so happy, they blasted music from Bill’s car and danced together in the rain in the Derry High School parking lot. They all looked like idiots, losers if you will. Ben and Bev were holding hands and spinning around and Richie and Stan and Bill were all limbs, having no coordination, and Mike and Eddie actually knew how to dance. 

By the end of the school year, Richie almost had enough money saved from working at the Aladdin to buy a car. And by the middle of June he had enough to buy a run-down old pickup truck.

He called Mike and asked if they could hang out at his house for the day, and then called the other losers after Mike said he had the farm to himself anyway. He arrived at Mikes house five minutes later than everyone else, and sat in the driveway in his truck and honked the horn until they came out, smiling and laughing as he made a show of getting out of his truck. “Like what ya see?” He shouted, laughing along as they clapped. He bowed and then jogged up to the porch, giving Bev a chaste kiss, and then getting a hug from Mike. 

“I’m so happy you finally got a car, maybe you could stop bumming rides from me now.” Ben laughed, the other losers nodding in agreement. They all went inside and settled into the couches in the living room, watching Star Wars: A New Hope for the 100th time.

Conversation flowed freely, topics about the newest movies at the Aladdin and the new cassettes Richie bought to listen to in his truck were discussed, and then the topic Richie had been avoiding for the past year of school came up: College. College meant moving away, going different directions, different paths and places and people. College meant forgetting. He didn’t want to think about the other losers leaving him behind, forgetting him and all the things they’ve gone through together, from bullies to the ACT to kisses. All of it had been with them. 

“I dunno, Stanny, Ivy league schools are expensive aren’t they?” Eddie asked with a crease in his brow.

“Well yeah but Stan the Man, Jew with a Plan is gonna be rich one day, eh?” Richie said, patting Stan on the thigh. “He’ll be able to pay it off.” 

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be able to pay it off.” Stan laughed. “In 20 years. I don’t know where I wanna go, I still have time to decide though. With my ACT score I could get into basically anywhere.” He said with a smile. 

“F-fuck y-yeah you can, babe.” Bill said as he placed a kiss on Stan’s cheek, pulling Stan closer into his side. 

The college talk went on for a little bit, eventually Richie got sick of it and pushed himself off of the couch, mumbling a half-assed “I need a smoke.” He sat himself on the front porch and pulled a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of his flannel. 

“You know I don’t like when you smoke.” Eddie said in a sarcastic tone as he sat next to Richie on the old wooden stairs and laid his head on Richie’s shoulder. “All the college talk makes me sad too.” He sighed in a small voice. “I understand if you don’t wanna talk about it.”

A long pause ensued, Richie taking a few drags of his cigarette. 

“Eds, do you wanna get out of here? I know you like stargazing, and it’s really clear out and I feel like going for a drive now that I can because I got my tr-” 

“Yeah sure.” Eddie laughed, cutting Richie off. “Lemme go fill up a thermos with tea and grab a couple blankets. I’ll tell the others we’ll be back soon.” 

Richie flashed him a smile and started walking to his truck. He started his truck and found his favorite cassette, Abbey Road by The Beatles. Once Eddie was buckled in the passenger seat, blanket and thermos snug in his lap, Richie tore out of the driveway. At this point Eddie had been in a car with Richie driving too many times to be phased, he just made himself comfy and asked, “Where are we going, Rich?”

“Oh, I know a spot. It’s really quiet and it pretty clear from lights and stuff, so we’ll be able to see the sky pretty clearly.” Richie said as he glanced at him, shooting him a crooked smile. Richie stuck his hand out as an invitation, and Eddie took it and laced their fingers together, letting their hands rest near his thigh. Richie rubbed his thumb lazily against the back of Eddie’s hand, giving Eddie butterflies. 

They drove on some back roads for a while, some unpaved, and came to a stop once they were in the middle of a clearing, giving them a fantastic view of the stars. They clambered out, leaving the doors open so that they could hear the music, on Richie’s insistence. 

“Chee, there’s gonna be a bunch of bugs inside later.” Eddie whined. 

“It’ll be fine.” Richie chuckled. 

They put both of the blankets down in the bed of the truck, hoping that it’d add some cushioning, and then climbed in, Eddie lying next to Richie with their hands intertwined in the space between them. 

“That one is Cassiopeia.” Eddie mumbled, pointing out the constellation with his free hand. 

“What’s it named after?” Richie asked, looking at Eddie instead of the sky. 

“It’s um, a queen in Greek Mythology. She was supposed to be incredibly vain.” He said as he turned his head to look at Richie, turning back to the sky when they met eyes. 

“And that one is The Seven sisters, also named after Greek Mythology. They’re supposed to represent the daughters of a titan who held up the sky.” 

“How do you know all of this stuff, Eds?” Richie asked, letting go of Eddie’s hand and rolling onto his stomach, supporting himself on his elbows. 

“I dunno, I’m just in love with the sky I guess. You can kind of see the outline of our galaxy, where it shifts from the Milky Way into the rest of space. You see where the stars are more concentrated?” He asks, not waiting for Richie’s reply. “Well I guess that’s where we are. All the stars in the Milky Way are in that strip of concentration.” 

“Your freckles remind me of a galaxy, a bunch of your own personal constellations.” Eddie whispers as he lets his fingers drift across the bridge of Richie’s nose. Richie thinks about when Mike traced his freckles. 

Richie let’s his eyes fall shut, let’s himself feel and hear. He can hear Eddie’s breath, and the sound of crickets chirping, and the music flowing from the cab of his truck. The melody of The Beatles’ Something, gliding into the night air. 

“Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way she woos me.” 

Richie opens his eyes when he feels Eddie shift, feels his breath closer. Eddie reaches a hand up and gently takes Richie’s glasses off, then caresses the side of Richie’s face. 

“Can I kiss you, Chee?” Eddie asks in a whisper, lips barely an inch away from Richie’s. 

“Somewhere in her smile she knows that I don’t need no other lover. Something in her style that shows me.”

Richie shakily laughs, and nods his head. Then there’s a pair of soft, warm lips on his and a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in. He leans over Eddie further, until Eddie is lying flat on his back and Richie is hovering over him. They kiss slowly, lips moving languidly. Eddie has a hand in Richie’s hair and he’s playing with the wild ringlets of curls, and Richie is rubbing circles into Eddie’s hip with his thumb. 

The song ends and transitions into Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, and Richie pulls away and laughs. “Sorry Eds. It’s just a funny song.” 

“You find the anything funny, Richie.” Eddie laughs. 

Wowwwwwwww that was really long. like 3.1k words long. 

I didn’t intend for it to be that long whoops. But anyways I just wanted to say thanks for like, actually reading this. I’ve gotten so much love from this and I appreciate it so much. 

I might do a hanzier au so if you wanna be tagged in that lmk. 

Taglist: 

@thotty-wise @inevitablytrue @stanilyuris @losers-ruined-my-life @thatcrazyfangirlmaze @notallowedtohandleaknife @80seddie @dreamdaddy101 @losvers-clubb @kotoamor @finnwolfwolf @bakadeno @reddletrash @fckingtozier @umlingo @gazebo-reddie @starstrucknerdgirl

[930club]

9:30 Interviews Captain Scott Kelly

Recently, we happened upon the (insanely rad) opportunity to talk a true American hero – astronaut Captain Scott Kelly, who spent a year aboard the International Space Station from March 2015 – March 2016. Given our status as a music venue/blog, we tried to angle our questions more towards music and its affect on Captain Kelly throughout his journeys. His NASA career and other amazing life adventures (including flying the likes of F-14 Tomcats and the Space Shuttle) are chronicled in his recent memoir, Endurance, which can be purchased anywhere fine books are sold.

Kezer: Before we get into music, I wanted to first start by saying that I recently also read Alfred Lansing’s Endurance, which you frequently reference in your book. Obviously there are parallels that have to do with venturing into the great unknown and isolation in potentially hazardous situations. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to expound a little more about what Shackleton’s journey means to you and how it informed the writing of your book.

Kelly: Well, I took that book with me the first time I flew, because I felt like if the conditions had ever gotten so bad on the Space Station, where I felt like it was too challenging, I would just look in Shackleton’s book and realize, “Hey I got it pretty good up here.” I kind of took it as a somewhat of an insurance policy against hardship in space. Fortunately, I didn’t need it. I mean, living in space for a long time is hard, but, nothing, I think, like what those guys endured.

And then, I don’t have many mentors or personal heroes, but Shackleton – understanding his life story and the type of person he was – having his book and using the title of the book as it related to my time in space and just my life in general - I thought it was a good thing.

Another book you reference heavily is Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff, which served as a launching point for your ultimate life goal and eventually led you to space. I’m curious if there has been any sort of musical work (be it an album, a piece of composed music, a single song, etc.) that has served as a catalyst in your life, if even a small catalyst.

So, I have a very broad range of musical tastes - classical music to hip-hop and just about everything in between. You know, I always thought Coldplay’s “Speed of Sound” talked to me a little bit about flying in space.

I noticed that it was on your Spotify “Songs of a Year in Space” playlist.

Yeah, a lot of those songs on that Spotify list were important to me for different reasons. It was not very specific, but I tried to order those songs as if they were somewhat related to my mission from beginning to end.

It’s kind of hard to explain. Like, if you were to listen to it, you might think, “What is he thinking to put that there?” But, at the time in space, when I put that together, it made sense to me. I haven’t listened to it in awhile, but I listen to those songs, because I like them - but I don’t listen to that specific Spotify playlist.

The prelaunch playlist for the Soyuz [rocket/spacecraft that took Kelly and two Russian cosmonauts into space] in which McCartney, Roberta Flack, Springsteen are played and which leads to the Russian pop song “Aviator,” is that something that you put together on your own? Or, is there a group that determines your music while you’re waiting for launch?

All three of us do, and the songs that were mine on the playlist were the Bruce Springsteen song… we all provide songs, and the Roberta Flack one [“Killing Me Softly”], even though I love that song, was not my choice. I didn’t really think it was appropriate. [laughs] The Paul McCartney song was mine. The Sarah Brightman song – I may or may not have put that on there. That might have been the Russians.

So when you’re sitting there in the Soyuz capsule, is the playlist merely an occupation of time?

Yeah, it’s just strictly entertainment to kill time. There’s a lot of time in the launch countdown where the Russians pipe in music. NASA uses music, too, like for the Shuttle missions – we would have wake-up music. “Wake Up Songs,” – every morning they would play that to wake the crew up. Typically, the crew would be up anyway, but each crewmember’s family would pick one or two songs.

On the Space Station, we don’t use wake-up music, because you wouldn’t want Control Center blasting you with music every morning to wake you up. And, you know, people get up at different times.

But, in general, music on the Space Station is very important. I spent nearly a year up there and would often have music playing in different modules. You would listen to music in your crew quarters while exercising at night. Often, on weekends, while people were still sleeping, I would go into the cupola, which is a module of windows [that look down on Earth], and listen to classical music. I would stay there for 90-minutes sometimes, watching the Earth go by. It was very peaceful.

In regards the Russians, I know a lot of the book focuses on the differences between the American/European/Russian space programs. I’m just curious as to how they absorb music – I know you wrote that they LOVE Depeche Mode. I’m just curious if they absorb music differently than the American/European astronauts, and if you have any general impressions about that.

Well, certainly, Western artists are much more important to them, than Russian musicians are important to us. Now, having said that, I do have one Russian pop star that I listen to in Russian, and her name is Alsu. She’s got a great album, it’s called Solo. Even though she’s Russian, she spent a lot of time in the U.K., so she sings in perfect English.

There are certain bands that the Russians find very popular. Like, Paul McCartney with the Beatles and “Back in the USSR.” Depeche Mode is hugely popular. In fact, we’ve seen them in Russia. I would say, that in terms of music, and, I just realized it – certain things I do in spaceflight – it’s somewhat similar to when you see professional athletes getting off the bus with headphones on. It psyches you up for what you’re about to do.

Getting away from Space for a second – I know you’ve had an insane schedule for the past couple of decades, but do you get a chance to take in live music?

Yeah! Sometimes – I saw Elton John in Las Vegas recently, who was great. I saw him at Madison Square Garden in the mid-‘80s, when he was wearing the duck costume. I saw the Dead this past summer. I’m trying to think of who else I’ve seen recently. I saw Fleetwood Mac – so yeah, I go to concerts, you know, when I have the opportunity.

I went to this blues bar in Chicago – that place was frickin’ awesome. It was my first time going to a blues club in Chicago, which was great. It was called Blue Chicago.

We’ve seen Hamilton a couple of times – that was excellent.

As far as your hearing – did they do any tests after your year on the ISS and were there any changes?

So, I have high-frequency hearing loss. But it seems like it comes – it kinda started when I became an astronaut in 1996.  And, even though I’ve been exposed to a lot of noise, my hearing hasn’t really changed significantly. So I’ve been really good at protecting my hearing. And I think the high-frequency hearing loss was based on the Navy, flying airplanes.

To wrap things up – I know there is emphasis in your book about bringing humanity together for the purpose of accomplishing great things, especially for something like going to Mars. I was curious as to your thoughts of how music may or may not play a part in something like that, if even a small part.

Yeah – you know, it’s a large part of people’s lives and it definitely translates out into space. I’m pretty sure that the Voyager spacecraft contains music. And it’s outside of our Solar System. It’s very important.

Thanks for taking the time to talk to us today, Captain Kelly. We know you’re very busy and we appreciate it. And, thanks for taking us all on a fun journey with your book. It was great.

Alright – thanks!

---

You can keep up with Captain Kelly’s happenings at ScottKelly.com, on Twitter at @StationCDRKelly, and on Facebook at facebook.com/StationCDRKelly - Dave Kezer

[sweater-vest-reid]

All You Need is Love: Chapter Five “A Little Help From My Friends”

A Love Story Told by The Fab Four / Inspired by “Across the Universe”

Spencer Reid: a genius, hardworking, dedicated FBI profiler. Persephone “Percy” Jacobson: a passionate, brilliant, ambitious FBI specialist, and the newest member of the BAU. Spencer doesn’t believe in soulmates. Persephone doesn’t believe in happy endings. Told nonlinearly, watch as time, each other, and The Beatles, proves them wrong.

Chapter List

~~~~~

A/N: GUESS WHO’S BACK Y’ALL. It’s me, ya girl. BUT I need your help. While I have most of the story outlined, there are still little gaps here and there. SO, what moments do you want to see in this story? What parts of Spencer and Percy’s lives to do you want to read about? Send me some ideas! Cute, angst, fluff, ALL IDEAS ARE WELCOME. And I will credit you if I use your idea (unless I already had it in my story). Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

Listen Here

~~~~~

What would you do if I sang out of tune,

Would you stand up and walk out on me.

Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,

And I'll try not to sing out of key.

{2006}

“Hey Spence, are you on your way yet?” JJ asked over the phone.

Spencer was gathering the last few things he needed, “Almost. I’m about to head to my car.”

“Is there any way you can make a stop before coming to the office?” she asked.

“Yeah sure. What is it?” Spencer replied, locking his door behind him.

“Well, I’ve been able to reach every member of the team except Percy.” JJ explained, ”I tried calling a couple of times but she's not answering. Turns out she left her cell phone here over the weekend. She doesn’t have a landline either, so I’m out of ways to contact her. Is there any way you could pick her up on your way to the office?”

“Uhh sure.” He said, anxiety beginning to fill his mind, ”I can do that.”

“Great. I’ll text you her address. Thanks, Spence.” JJ said, hanging up the phone.

Spencer headed to his car, his brain moving in a million directions. Spencer had never seen Percy’s place before. He knew the purpose of his visit was work-related, but, secretly, he wished his visit was of a different nature.

Spencer parked in front of her building and walked into the lobby. He went up the stairs and found her door in the long hallway. Inside he could hear the muffled music and the sound of someone moving inside. Spencer took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Percy? It’s Spencer. We need you to come into work. We’ve got a case.”

Spencer waiting for her to open the door, but nothing happened. Spencer knocked again.

“Percy? Are you there? We need to go the jet's waiting. ”

Spencer waited again, yet his call was still unanswered. In a last-ditch attempt, Spencer tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it twisted, and the door swung open.

The sight on the other side of the door surprised Spencer, causing his mouth to form a sweet grin.

Percy stood before him, her back to the door, still wearing her pajamas. She danced to the joyful song that blared over the speakers. Percy sang along, her voice strong and passionate, as she reached each note with ease. Suddenly, Percy turned around, spotting Spencer at the door. She abruptly ended her performance, realizing she had an audience.

“Spencer? What are you doing here?” Percy asked, turning off the speaker.

“JJ called. We have a case.” Spencer replied, still in shock from the sight he just witnessed.

“Why didn’t she call me?” said Percy as she started gathering the contents of her go bag, “I haven’t heard anything about a case.”

“She did call you, but you left your cell phone at the office.” Said Spencer, “She asked me to pick you up on my way into work. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Seriously, you saved my ass.” She said, placing her bag by Spencer, “I gonna change clothes, and then we can leave.”

Percy disappeared into her bedroom, leaving Spencer alone in her home. He noticed the similarities to his. It's cluttered, every surface covered in different objects. But, the room was still clean, every object clearly had its own place. A desk sat in the corner, covered in papers and trinkets. Surrounding the desk was a collection of bookshelves. Some held books, some held DVDs and CDs, while others held pictures and candles. Naturally, Spencer was drawn to her collection of books. The books were various sizes and shapes, with many topics and languages represented. Spencer noticed a small notebook sat next to some of the larger books. Spencer went to reach for one of the notebooks when Percy emerged from her room.

“What are the notebooks for?” Spencer asked.

“Well, I used to take notes in the page margins, but I find that they’re too small to fit all my questions and thoughts. So, for almost every book I read, I take notes in a notebook.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, he just looked at her in amazement. No matter how long he knew Percy, no matter how much he learned about her, she still found new ways to amaze him.

“So, shall we go to work? I don’t think the serial killers took the day off.” She joked, grabbing her bag.

Spencer and Percy headed to the car and took off for what they knew would be a long day.

“So, what exactly were you doing when I arrived at your place?” Spencer asked, his curiosity eating him alive.

"If you must know. This morning I was looking around my place when I found a soundtrack from an old musical I did in high school.” Percy blushed, “I played it while getting ready this morning, and needless to say, I got a little carried away. I’m afraid you caught me in the middle of the act one finale.”

“You have a beautiful voice.” Spencer blurted.

“Thank you, Spencer,” Percy said, a look of surprise on her face.

Spencer noticed her expression, “What is it?”

“Usually when I tell people about my theater past, they give me shit. You’re the first person in a long time who hasn’t judged me.” She answered.

Spencer frowned, “Why would they judge you?”

“You must remember how theater kids were treated in high school? Bullied, laughed at. Turns out that aspect of life doesn’t get better when you grow up.” Percy stated.

“Actually, I don’t. I didn’t pay much attention to that part of high school. In fact, I’ve actually never seen a musical.” said Spencer.

Percy’s jaw dropped, “You’ve never seen a musical?”

“Never,” Spencer confirmed.

“Phantom of the Opera?” She asked.

“Nope,” Spencer replied.

“The Sound of Music.”

“No.”

“Les Mis?”

“I’ve read the book. Does that count?” asked Spencer.

Percy shook her head, “As soon as this case is over, we’re seeing a musical. Non-negotiable.”

“Sounds good,” Spencer said as he pulled into the parking spot.

“Oh and one more thing?” added Percy, “Don’t you dare tell Morgan about any of this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Promise. My lips are sealed.”

What do I do when my love is away. (Does it worry you to be alone) How do I feel by the end of the day (Are you sad because you're on your own) No I get by with a little help from my friends,

{2013}

His mind played the events over and over, her battered face refusing to disappear. He could hear the sound of her screams, her cries for help as he frantically searched for her. He saw her, lying on the ground, the blood pooling from her injured leg. Even now he could still feel the weight of her barely conscious body and he carried her out of the house.

A hand on his shoulder broke Spencer from his trance.

“Hey, pretty boy, you still in there?” Morgan joked.

“Yeah, sorry.” Spencer said, “Where were we?”

“We were discussing the unsub’s next possible victims” replied JJ.

“And? Any leads?” Spencer asked, still waking up from his flashback.

“None. Nothing we’ve gathered so far has helped. I think we would benefit from revisiting the last crime scene. See if we missed anything” suggested Blake.

“Good thinking, Blake,” said Hotch, “Alright, Morgan and Reid. You two return to the crime scene. Make sure we didn’t miss anything. The rest of us will take another look at the surviving victim’s statement”

The team split up. Spencer grabbed his things, following Morgan out to the SUV. As they walked, Spencer took out his phone and began to dial his most frequent number. But before he could finish, Morgan snatched the phone from his hands.

“Hey!” yelled Spencer, “Give that back!”

Morgan shook his head, “Only when you promise to stop bothering the poor girl.”

“Come on Morgan, don’t be ridiculous. I’m just checking up on her.” Argued Spencer.

Morgan laughed, “Yeah? Well, that call would have been the sixth time you checked up on her today.”

“Not true,” said Spencer as they climbed into the vehicle.

“Oh really? You wanna bet?” Morgan asked, “Let’s see, the first one was at 9:47, the next at 10:30, one at 12:13, another at 1:45, and the last at 2:36. If you include the call you just tried to make, that’s a total of six.”

Spencer looked down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with Morgan. Sure, he wasn’t proud of his frequent calls to Percy, but he had to do it. He needed to hear her voice, to confirm that she was okay, that she was safe. After all, it had only been two months since it happened, and Spencer was still trying to deal with the events.

Morgan glanced over, “Listen, kid, I know how much you love her. We all do. And we were there that day too. But you have to understand that she’s safe. I promise she’ll be there waiting for you when the case is done. Got it?”

Spencer nodded, a single tear started to fall down his face. He wiped it away, smiling at Morgan. He was so thankful for his friend’s kind words.

Morgan spent the rest of the drive distracting Spencer. Asking him questions that he knew would warrant at least ten minutes of ranting.

Once they arrived at the crime scene, Spencer dove into his work. And, for a least a bit, his mind was free from worry. It wasn’t until his phone rang during the drive home that Spencer remembered his past anxiety.

Spencer answered the phone, “Hey, is everything okay?”

“I was just about the ask you that” replied Percy on the other end of the phone, “You hadn’t checked in for a while. I was beginning to get worried.”

Spencer glanced at the car’s clock, “I’m so sorry, we got really busy with the case”

“It’s okay” Percy reassured. “It’s just good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear yours too.”

Would you believe in a love at first sight, Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time.

{2004}

“I don’t know,” said Morgan, shaking his head, “Attraction at first sight? Sure. But love? No way.”

The team sat in the jet, deep into a heated debate. The case they had finished involved an unsub with a twisted definition of “love at first sight”. As the jet traveled back to Quantico, a debate ensued.

“Hey, pretty boy, back me up. What’s your scientific viewpoint on love at first sight?” Morgan asked, turning to face Spencer.

Spencer looked around nervously, “I’ll pass”

“Come on Reid,” groaned Morgan.

“Fine,” Spencer said, closing his book, “I guess love can be chemically explained. The feeling of love is caused by the production of serotonin and dopamine, along with many other chemicals. But, love at first sight has yet to be scientifically disproven. So, sorry Morgan, but I don’t think I can help you.”

Morgan was shocked, “What’s happened to you, Reid? A year ago that question would have caused a fifteen-minute rant about how nonsense the concept is. Now you’re saying it’s possible?”

“Why did you change your mind? Did you meet someone?” Asked Hotch.

“Yeah Spencer,” asked Percy, “Who’s the special girl?”

“There’s no girl.” Spencer said, lying through his teeth, “I'm choosing to look at it through a more scientific lens, that’s all.”

His answer satisfied the team, and they turned their attention back to Morgan. Spencer kept his eyes trained on Percy, watching her every move.

You. Spencer desperately wanted to say. You’re the special girl.

Morgan was right. He used to disregard love at first sight. That was until he experienced it for himself. The first time they met, the first time they talked, the first time they were alone together, Spencer felt it. Love.

“Come on. I find this hard to believe." Morgan said, shaking his head.

"What?" Gideon asked.

"That some of the smartest minds in the world believe in love at first sight, and soulmates, and happy endings!” Morgan exclaimed, fed up with the conversation.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on happy endings.” Groaned Percy as she slumped back into her chair.

“What’s wrong with happy endings?” asked Gideon.

“They piss me off. That people can be so naïve and think they’ll get their happy ending just by sitting around and waiting for it. That’s not how life works. Believe me. Happy endings require effort, and some people simply aren’t willing to put in that effort.”

“Looks like somebody had a bad breakup. Let me guess, college boyfriend gone wrong?” teased Hotch.

“Don’t you dare try to profile me Hotch” Percy said.

Spencer watched as Percy’s face dropped. He’d seen that face enough to know her mind was busy reliving memories. Memories that Spencer knew Percy would never share.

Percy slumped in her chair, her mind replaying the words she uttered. She hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but this conversation had made her angry. Angry at those who broke her heart in the past, and those who were breaking her heart in the present.

Maybe she was wrong about whatever was between her and Spencer. Maybe the feelings she had the first time they met were just first day of work jitters. The smiles they shared were merely friendly exchanges.

Percy looked up and Spencer, their eyes locking together. A blush rose to his cheeks, and a smile spread across his lips. Percy felt heat rush to her cheeks and a similar grin form on her face.

But then again, maybe she was right after all.

What do you see when you turn out the light? I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine.

{2015}

Percy snapped awake. It was still late at night, showed by the moonlight flowing into the room. Percy tried to look at the alarm clock on her bedside table, but she found that her head would not move. She then tried to move her arms but found that they too refused to move. Percy began to panic, a familiar sense of dread set in. A shadowy figure appeared in the corner of her bedroom. It glared at her, causing Percy's heat to pound. Suddenly, the figure starting to move. Tears slid down Percy’s cheeks as it inched closer and closer. The figure loomed over her, its presence cold and threatening.

But as quickly as the figure appeared, it vanished. Percy heard Spencer yelling her name, and she felt his hands on her shoulders, trying to shake her awake.

Percy jolted upright, a cold sweat covering her body.

“Percy are you okay?” Spencer asked, concern filling his voice.

Percy didn’t say anything. She leaned forward, her head resting in her hands, and cried. She fought to slow down her heartbeat, to ease her heavy breathing. The shadowy figure may be gone, but her panic refused to leave.

It had been happening more and more, the figure visiting her at night. She had been trying to hide it from Spencer, as she didn’t want him to worry. But now her secret was out.

Spencer stayed silent, rubbing her back as she wept. As her breathing slowed, she leaned back into him, cuddling into the crook of his arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Percy stayed quiet, letting her ragged breathing answer the question for her.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened is it,” Spencer asked.

“No,” Percy said, wiping the last tears from her eyes “It’s been going on for about a month”

Spencer pulled her closer, “Next time, tell me. I don’t like that you’ve been dealing with this all by yourself.”

Percy nodded.

“What happened? You were….you were screaming in your sleep. It was terrifying.” Spencer asked. Percy could hear the fear in his voice.

“I couldn’t move” she whispered, “There was something here. It just... looked at me. Usually, it just stands there, but tonight it moved toward me. It came so close. I felt it.”

“You know, it sounds like sleep paralysis” commented Spencer.

Percy buried her head into him, “I know. That's what I think it is too. But that doesn’t make it seem less real.”

“I know it doesn’t. But you’re okay now. I promise. Just try to go back to sleep” he said, kissing her forehead.

They held each other, Spencer petting her hair with his hand. Soon he drifted off to sleep. Percy glanced down at his hand, noticing his ring as it shone in the moonlight. Percy placed her own hand next to his, staring down at both rings in amazement.

It had only been two months since they placed the rings on each other’s hands. She still couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She got to marry her best friend.

Percy was so glad they found each other. They fit together perfectly. She only wished it hadn’t taken five years for them to realize they both felt the same way.

It was five long years. Five years of missed moments, of secret glances. The longest five years of her life.

But now, laying there, next to him, she knew. All of it, the long nights at work, the many hospital visits, the near-death experiences, even the sleep paralysis, were worth it.   Yes I get by with a little help from my friends, With a little help from my friends.

TAGGED (Want to be tagged in any upcoming chapters? Message me and I’ll add you to the list!)

@beysenpai / @theofficeofsupremegenius / @everybodywantstobetouched / @keepcalmandlovetomhiddleston / @criminal-navy-writings / @whale-of-a-time

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Listener Mailbag - Sept. 30, 2019

Listener feedback is valuable to us, and we love it when someone takes the time to reach out and engage us in conversation!  

This listener offers several compelling and interesting counter-points to the previous listener-letter’s assertion that the imbalances regarding McCartney’s critical reputation (and fandom toxicity regarding McCartney in general) have been redressed.  We don’t agree that they have, and this listener has made many similar observations.

Please feel free to email us at akompodcast at gmail dot com, send us an ask, or a Tumblr message. We love hearing from you!

Listener’s letter:  

Thank you guys so much for all of your hard work on this podcast! I’ve had an absolute blast listening to all the episodes, and I’m sure there are many who look forward to it just as much as I do. My letter is partially in response to another listener’s letter (the one who stressed that the jean-jacket narrative is no longer as prevalent as it once was).

I really loved your response, and I simply wanted to express that, whatever their experience with the Beatles’ narrative might’ve been, mine has been the exact opposite. I’m pretty young and my parents never really listened to the Beatles. I knew about the Beatles and Paul McCartney, but I was so naive to their story that it never really clicked that Paul was even in the Beatles until I became immersed in their lore (I had never even heard of George Harrison. Whoops, sorry Georgie). So, I was as blank a slate as they come.

I’ve been absolutely devouring Beatles media for the past three months. And being a Paul fan in 2019? Still really difficult due to the toxicity of the fandom. Obscure books about John Lennon or the group as a whole are far easier to track down than Paul books.

It took an embarrassingly long time to discover that Paul even had an authorized semi-autobiography. (The cringeworthy lack of attention toward Ringo and George hasn’t escaped my notice, either. Their legacy has been seriously neglected) And a lot of the books I’ve managed to get my hands on tend to take unprovoked jabs at Paul’s legacy: two of the “Paul books” I’ve bought recently were prefaced, essentially, with “I’ve never liked Paul because I resented the way the women in my life so obviously enjoyed him.” Both the Norman and Clayson biographies began this way, and it just seemed so unnecessary.

Now I have to do extensive research before purchase to avoid wasting money on books that disdain Paul for qualities outside of his control. It was baffling that these men thought, despite their personal jealousies, that they were qualified to not only write biographies but to include their personal issues in the preface without having their legitimacy questioned. I’d never seen anything like it.

When books or media praise him, the majority of it seems to be for his appearance. Even Cynthia Lennon, bless her old lady heart (loved her book John, by the way, read it ‘cause you guys recommended it), when it came to describing each Beatle in an interview, described a man who had been a true friend to her for decades as ‘Pretty… so, so pretty.’ The other three Beatles consistently get remarks as to their wit and talent, but few people, even some of his close friends, seem to get past Paul’s looks.

To the untrained, twenty-something eye, Paul comes across as something of an adorable, grandad figure, kind of oddly amorphous in his legacy, rather than the musical genius and powerhouse he actually is. When I started to seek out his music, I was shocked at all the familiar melodies that I’d heard hundreds of times before without ever knowing the artist. His music feels really fresh and relevant to me, not at all dated, a huge contrast to the affable, aging persona I’ve been fed by the media.

Paul is my favorite Beatle, but I’m not looking for media that overtly glorifies Paul in relation to his former bandmates. I just want to have historically factual, fair media that pays respect to the people who have shaped my life and occasionally comforted me with their art. And I don’t want to feel like I should have to be ashamed of my enjoyment just because a group of men found my appreciation vapid and aggravating, for one reason or another.

That’s why I’ve so thoroughly enjoyed the AKOM podcast: it feels like, in a room full of toxic men screaming at the top of their lungs about nothing at all and demanding it become truth, that women (and other varying genders) can still bravely sit down amidst it all, have tea, and breathe some sanity into the stupidity. Thanks again!

Our Response:

Thank you for your wonderful letter. We appreciate the feedback. We love long letters and certainly understand having a lot to say on the subject!

We have had very similar experiences to yours and agree: 

“Paul comes across as something of an adorable, grandad figure, kind of oddly amorphous in his legacy, rather than the musical genius and powerhouse he actually is.” 

This bothers us as well. Paul does not get the artistic credit he deserves. 

Paul himself has shown frustration with the label “the cute Beatle” —can you imagine having written some of the world’s most famous songs and being labeled “cute” while you partner is labeled “smart” or “intellectual” or “genius”? It must be hugely frustrating. Perhaps so much so that he has taken to giving HIMSELF the label of genius recently! We’re all for it!

Unfortunately, it a label and bias that exists. Problem is, Paul is cute and charming! But he is also deep and complex and brilliant and sexy, yet so many writers and observers aren't able to see beyond the surface-level read of him. This hasn’t always been the case though, when we examine contemporaneous reviews of the Beatles, we find that in the 60s Paul’s genius was taken more seriously by some (yes, he had the label “the cute Beatle” but his talents were also taken seriously, especially in the UK); the break-up seems to have altered his critical evaluation.

You said: “When I started to seek out his music, I was shocked at all the familiar melodies that I’d heard hundreds of times before without ever knowing the artist.”

 We are thrilled that you have discovered them. I felt this way about Paul’s solo work as well—I  had been led to believe, by critics, that Paul’s solo music wasn’t up to par with his Beatles work, so approached it with trepidation. What a pleasure it was finding out they were so very wrong. Paul’s post-Beatles work is a joy to explore. It is a treasure chest of incredible music. 

“His music feels really fresh and relevant to me, not at all dated, a huge contrast to the affable, aging persona I’ve been fed by the media.”

Exactly, and Paul’s post-Beatles story is very romantic and relevant as well. Paul’s post-Beatles period hasn’t been significantly romanticized or mythologized….yet. 

The McCartneys themselves do a good job of it, but it hasn’t taken hold in the popular imagination. Based on Paul’s "persona" as it is portrayed in popular culture, one would think Paul spent his entire post-break-up career pining for the Beatles and writing sub-standard but commercially popular music rather than having inspired a whole other music genre and created a goldmine of incredible music.

“Paul is my favorite Beatle, but I’m not looking for media that overtly glorify Paul in relation to his former bandmates. I just want to have historically factual, fair media that pays respect to the people who have shaped my life and occasionally comforted me with their art.”

Wouldn’t that be lovely! But it’s tough to find. It seems some of these biases are so deeply ingrained and embedded in the Beatles story that it colors the view of everything Paul-related. For example, what is this so-called “granny music”? This isn’t even a thing! It’s not a genre, yet Paul’s music is continually given this label. It's time to stop letting John’s labels, which were given in a fit of anger and defensiveness, define Paul and Paul’s music. Again, there are some deep underlying assumptions in this fandom that need to be challenged. 

“And I don’t want to feel like I should have to be ashamed of my enjoyment just because a group of men found my appreciation vapid and aggravating, for one reason or another.  That’s why I’ve so thoroughly enjoyed the AKOM podcast: it feels like, in a room full of toxic men screaming at the top of their lungs about nothing at all and demanding it become truth, that women (and other varying genders) can still bravely sit down amidst it all, have tea, and breathe some sanity into the stupidity. “

 Ha! Well, we are thrilled to have inspired enjoyment and relaxation with a good cup of tea! We understand the pleasure of not wanting to constantly throw your cup at the speaker!

“Can't wait for the next episode!!”

We hope you have enjoyed our latest episodes on the Break-up and LIB. We think we managed to challenge some deeply held believes and assumptions with our analysis. 

Thanks again for the letter, we really enjoyed it! Please continue to share your thoughts if you are inspired!

Best, 

Diana and the AKOM Crew