#what wacky adventures will these gents go on

[thebigolbee]

Quick little doodles of Lug and Micheal from @skaiind 's Fallout comic Living on the Sands! Wanted to celebrate Lug's arrival somehow… really excited to see how it plays out :)c

If you want to check it out the comic, give it a gander here -> @livingonthesands

[realm-sweet-realm]

A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 1.

Alright, here it is- the Shawn x Grant story I promised. Sorry it took so long- I kind of accidentally wrote the second chapter first. The second chapter will be released tomorrow or the day after.

Also... these two are getting three chapters. The only other way to do this would have been to cut out sections. After this, I’ll be writing Allison x Thomas.

I hope you all enjoy this.

If you’d taken either Grant or Shawn even a month before they’d met and told them that they could be close friends, they would have been rather surprised. Well- Grant would have been. Shawn knew he was good with all kinds of people.

They’d met at some office party. Norman had taken off from Grant’s side- perhaps after someone he wanted to watch awhile. Shawn had drifted off from Wally after watching him try and fail to flirt with girls had gotten old. Shawn wasn’t looking for anything specific- just anyone willing to listen to his stories. They enjoyed talking, though, and had exchanged numbers afterwards. The rest was history. Shawn liked to talk. Grant liked to listen. Shawn liked to drag Grant into his wacky adventures. Grant... liked being dragged into some of them (with others he’d tell Shawn to bring Wally to instead, or to “absolutely do not do that, but since I know you’ll just do it anyways, please at least get Lacie to help”). They had similar, wry senses of humour. They just got along well as friends.

Shawn kind of expected to develop a crush on Grant. He was one of his types, and a pretty cute guy. He wasn’t looking for anything serious at the time, though, and Grant didn’t seem like the type to go for quick, sexual flings. That didn’t stop him from occasionally getting the guy flustered with play-flirting, though.

Grant also knew he was developing feelings for Shawn, and to him, that was no big deal. Shawn talked about hooking up with girls all the time. He was straight. Shawn was the type to joke about hooking up with guys occasionally pretended to flirt with him, but Grant was fairly certain it was all jokes. Which was good. Shawn... was not what he wanted to pursue, no matter how good an idea that seemed.

---

It was several months after Grant and Shawn had met. Grant was taking his lunch break with Norman, as he often did. Norman had called him into the projector booth that day- where they had their most private conversions. When Grant came in, Norman was looking through the window of his projector booth, looking uncharacteristically troubled.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” Norman said, clearly distracted. “I’ve been looking through the studio’s secrets for fun since I got here, but last week... it stopped being fun. I’ve told you about Susie Campbell, right? That sweet, bubbly little voice actress? She got possessed. She attacked Allison and was taken away by some GENT men. It’s not the first time I’ve seen the machine do harm, but... I feel like it’s high time I took this stuff seriously. Try to get some actual evidence together.”

“Maybe you should take a break from the sneaking around. It’s clearly putting stress on you.” They'd talked about this, but it was pointless to say as much. Usually Norman was lighter-hearted about it, but he’d been having crazy theories about the ink machine since it was installed- that it had some purpose more nefarious than draining the studio’s finances and staining everyone’s clothes and equipment with leaking rubber ink. As for Grant, he thought that kind of thinking was just a product of Norman’s upbringing in a cult that actually did hold secrets like that. He was willing to joke about the ink machine with him but didn’t know how what to do with him taking it seriously.

Norman shook his head. “No. I want to help. Please, don’t give me that ‘this isn’t how this world works’ speech. I heard her voice- this demonic, garbled voice. Something is going on. I need you to take me seriously.”

“Okay. I will.” he wasn’t, but it clearly meant a lot to Norman that he played along with it. “How can I help?”

“You have a friend who can pick locks- Shawn Flynn, right? And he has a friend- that girl who knows her way around machines. Can you round them up for me? And give me a list of the strange things Joey has asked you to account for, like the coffins and electric chair you told me about? This’ll be my first time sneaking into the studio at night.”

“Sure thing.” Grant felt a little like an enabler, but he knew that nothing would stop Norman, so he might as well help and hope that whatever he found satisfied him.

---

The next day, the four co-conspirators met up in front of Joey Drew Studios late at night. It was Lacie and Norman’s first time meeting, and they looked rather impressed with each other.

“Hey. Lacie, right? I heard you can outdrink and then out-arm-wrestle these two guys put together.”

“Yep. Less impressive than it sounds. So, Norman? I heard you probably already know my existential dreads by watching the way I walk.”

“That’s right!”

The two bumped fists.

“We should’ve introduced em’ ages ago,” Shawn whispered to Grant.

“Now anyhow, what’s in this for us?” Lacie asked.

“The opportunity of a lifetime!” Shawn exclaimed. “The chance to break into your workplace at night and do whatever dumb shit you want!”

“Plus, I’ll buy you drinks afterwards,” Norman added.

“Deal!”

It seemed like everything was settled, so Grant turned to leave. These were three people who would break into a building for fun. He was not.

“Oh, no!” Shawn said, grabbing Grant’s hand. “ I ain’t letting you slip away from this! You’re coming with me!”

Was this just an excuse for Shawn to get him alone? It was reassuring that he wasn’t bitter over the previous week, at least- he probably shouldn’t blow Shawn off right after that, even though he didn’t want to break and enter. “Sure- but if we get caught, I’m telling them you kidnapped me.”

“And they’ll probably believe you! Let’s go!”

Once entrance lock was picked, Norman and Lacie split off to investigate the machine, leaving Grant and Shawn to their own devices.

“So, whadya you want to do first? I know! We should find Tom Connor’s locker and pull some kind of prank on him. He stole mah tool belt, you know! Or- or we could go to the music department. Wally tells me that there’s this real bitch of a music director named Sammy there- yells at Wally all the time. Wanna go make his life harder?”

The only thing the darkened, empty halls of the studio were making Grant feel was unnerved. He shouldn’t be there, and he knew it. “I think Tom would be a better idea. I’ve heard that Sammy is Joey’s golden boy- so making his life harder would be more likely to have consequences.”

“'Kay. And after that, who do you know who we both have a bone to pick with?” Shawn asked, as though he already knew.

“Uh-”

“Joey Drew.”

“We aren’t.”

“We are.”

“We’ll go to his office. I decide what happens after that. Alright?”

“Sure thing, bud. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

So, they went to Joey Drew’s office. There were a few stops along the way- apparently there were more than a few different people that Shawn had a bone to pick with, and he even broke into Thomas’ locker and took his belt back along with some paper work which he promptly shredded onto the floor. It was like consequences didn’t exist to Shawn- it was kind of amazing, honestly.

Joey’s office was pretty plain. There were awards and various pictures of Bendy on the walls, and a mess of papers coating his desk and spilling onto the floor. Grant went for his favourite pen- a fountain pen tipped with a Bendy head.

“Are you sure no one will catch us?

“Yep.”

With that, Grant broke the pen over Joey’s paperwork, staining it in ink. “There. My act of rebellion for the night. Sorry I’m so lame.”

“It’s fine. It means I get to do the leading. But anyhow.” Shawn sat on Joey’s desk. “Last weekend. You know ah have other options, right? Ya can’t keep making me wait.”

---

It had been several months after they’d become friends that it happened. Shawn had insisted that they went to some local fair. Apparently, Lacie had worked on some of the rides there, and he thought it would be fun. Grant had found the idea rather childish and wondered why Shawn didn’t take Wally instead- it seemed more his thing.

It turned out to be a lot of fun. They played some games (and Shawn won a stuffed frog that he insisted Grant keep), they bet on some horse races, and about an hour in, Shawn suggested they go on the Ferris Wheel.

“You know, Grant, Ah’m kind of getting tired of flings and one-night stands with people I barely know.”

“Oh. Thinking of finding a serious partner, then?”

“Ya could say that,” he said it like it was some kind of joke. “So, how’s your love life going?”

“Not my first priority right now. You know me- I’m not much for meeting new people, and work is keeping me busy.”

“Okay, so...what if... it were someone you already know?” Shawn waited for an answer, but Grant just looked stunned as he realized what was happening. “You know, no can see us from all the way up here!”

“What are you-?”

It was then that Shawn kissed him on the lips. Grant froze entirely, and stayed frozen even as Shawn separated from him.

One look at Grant’s face and Shawn knew he’d fucked up. “Uh, sorry...?”

“It’s... it’s alright. Look, I reciprocate your feelings, but I’m not sure I want to pursue this. C-could you give me a few days to think it over?”

“Oh, no. You’re doing that thing where you’re scared and so you’re gettin’ all formal.”

“It’s fine,” Grant insisted. They went their separate ways as soon as they got off the ride.

---

Grant knew he was being unfair in making Shawn wait so long, but it was a genuinely difficult decision. He’d given up his little flings with men after he’d graduated college, deciding that he wanted to be respectable- be a law-abiding, family-oriented, traditional person- someone the people around him could trust and like. But on the other hand, opportunities like this didn’t present themselves often, and Grant didn’t want to throw this one away. “I’m sorry. I think you should pursue other options.”

Shawn slid off the desk and strode towards him. “Okay. We still have tonight, though. I have another idea as to how we could disrespect Mr. Drew, and it involves us, on his desk.”

They were interrupted by a rushed-seeming knock on the door. “We’re caught,” Norman whispered. “Leave as fast and quietly as you can. Lacie’s already out. Meet us at the warehouse.”

[joemuggs]

He’s Gone

Reposted from Facebook... 

Processing this one is really difficult. Andrew Weatherall's music and cultural influence were a staple in my life from the age of 15: probably the most consistent single musical thread for the 30 years since, in fact. I was, and am, a shameless, total fanboy. All my school, Quaker and university friends know what an obsessive I was - I sat outside HMV waiting for it to open on the day of release to get my 12" of "Higher Than the Sun", and hitch hiked from South Oxfordshire to Leicester to see Primal Scream with him DJing that same year... I was unutterably envious of older kids at sixth form who managed to get to Boys Own parties. His early remixes of Galliano, Yello, Throbbing Gristle, James, The Impossibles, The Orb etc etc etc joined so many dots, but crucially he led me to incredible older music - just his remix titles ("American Spring", "Nancy & Lee") alone were a springboard for discovery. They taught us what I'm now realising that the rest of the world is only now catching up with: that you CAN be into everything, that you CAN navigate the glut of information in our culture, as long as you understand the signposts, as long as you do it with skill and finesse, but also with a devil-may-care sense of adventure and humour that punctures any over earnestness, stops it being a dry, diagrammatic exercise, and makes what you're doing part of the living culture.

And as I got more involved with music and particularly club music he was always there. He was hugely supportive of Cristian Vogel and co, when the rest of the UK techno scene wasn't giving them the props they deserved. I constantly heard stories of him supporting artists like that (and more recently he lent his keen support to to Jabru after I passed him an album)... I had the opportunity to meet him a few times - first through Emma, Cristian and co, and later when I met Elliot who was working for Rotters Golf Club, and Richie who knew him of old - but was WAY too scared and introverted to, and he did after all have a formidable reputation. I did shout "you're great!" or "this is amazing!" at him in a couple of nightclubs, mind. But I continued following his every musical move, which were always great (see the articles I've posted already). From seeing him drop the acetate of "Sugar Daddy" after the lights came up in a sweat drenched Zap club, to feeling like the entire party was underwater at a Haywire Session, so wobbly was the bass, to seeing him play The Fall and the rawest rockabilly in an Islington pub, to playing dub in a beautiful light and airy Crystal Palace studio for a Moine Dubh session, to that cosmic-ambient NTS special last month - he kept delivering. The number of references to him in Bass, Mids, Tops show clearly how his influence has echoed down the generations, and been a vital connector through the music that I'm obsessed with.

I finally met him in person about 7 years ago: I saw him standing in a sunny field at Camp Bestival in his "impressionist painter on an away day" outfit, and plucked up the courage to say hi. He was, as you'll expect from all the stories that people have posted the last 24 hours, an absolute gent. He said "oh I know who you are" - always a scary phrase - but continued it by listing off a set of my things he'd read recently in the WIRE, picking out my report from DMZ's 8th birthday that year as just the sort of thing he likes: "a bulletin from something I haven't really got a clue about but I'm glad exists," he said. Funnily enough I then bumped into him again later that day at Burger King in Winchester Services and he said hi to the kids and again chatted jovially.

After that we stayed in touch. I interviewed him a couple of times, most notably around the first Woodleigh Research Facility album, and every so often I'd stop in at the Scrutton Street studio for tea and biscuits, and to swap tunes. And even allowing for the passive weed smoke, I would always come away inspired - he always had time to talk and always had something interesting to say about whatever was in the ether: I can remember discussing poetry, pop-reggae, apocalypse cults, Ozric Tentacles, Sir Henry at Rawlinson's End, the English landscape, The Cramps' fashion sense and indeed - in very great detail - biscuits. He was always up for hearing my harebrained ideas and helped a lot with the very slow evolution of my discussion events which eventually became the Ambient Salon, which he ended up participating in (refusing even the paltry fee I could offer, insisting it go instead to "local underprivileged kids or something"). His willingness to have faith in my frankly wacky idea, just because it sounded fun, gave me the proof of concept I needed to take it further, and I'd always thought that we'd do it again on a grander scale...

And that's the real gut punch isn't it? He was going to do so many great things. I never got to Convenanza in Carcassone because I assumed it would just keep going, building into more and more of a cultural staple. I'm sure eventually Lee Brackstone would have wrung a book out of him. He could have been a radio and TV presenter up there with the best of the best. Maybe he'd have carried through his threat to become a full time painter too. There was SO much possibility there. Like I said in the Mixmag obit, not only was he not jaded, he was the OPPOSITE. He was just getting started in so many ways. And he was always, always enabling idiots like me, unsung musicians, fringe characters, and just anyone who happened to get in contact if they caught his imagination. It is really striking that everyone I met through him - Tim, Nina, Sean, Caroline, Bernie, Lizzie, Keith and the rest - have been great, great people too, who carry that same sense of generosity of spirit, constant sense of enquiry and can-do attitude. My heart is broken for all of them especially, as well of course for his old-school friends from Boys Own times Terry, Cymon and co: I can't begin to imagine what it is like. The same goes for all those who became part of the close knit community - "family" is not an exaggeration - around A Love From Outer Space and the Convenanza festival. Reading the ALFOS FB group this last week has been really, really quite something. Friendships and marriages made, lifelong passions ignited, a genuine, flesh and blood community built, all around one man's vision... And so, so, SO much incredible music and culture being shared, impossible quantities of it, in fact. It's a lot.