#those top songs…is it any wonder i’m going all the way to scotland to see them both at the same show 🫣

[bosbruined]

happy spotify wrapped to those who celebrate

[andrea-lyn]

The Recs (Less Travelled)

I’m excited to bring you the first installment of my ‘roads less travelled’ recs! I will be doing another round of this, probably once the Ted Lasso fic tag hits about 25 pages, and then I’ll also grab a couple more fandoms to collect in there! 

The Rules:

Each fandom/pairing was sorted on Archive of Our Own by completed works. Anything recced here was not in the first ten pages when sorted by kudos at the time of reccing. There may be some more well-known authors on this list, but the specific fics I’ve picked are ones that didn’t crack that top ten or just didn’t get much traction and I think deserve it, so hopefully I have also balanced it out with other under the radar (and still great!) works. As ever, I have a pinned post of my other recs (none have been duplicated from there), so you can also check those out! Under the cut you’ll find 10 recs in each fandom for:

Raven Cycle

Roswell New Mexico

The Old Guard

Inception

Star Trek (mainly Kirk/McCoy)

The Raven Cycle

savor all the little pieces by littlelionvanz

“Since when do you garden?”

Ronan snorted, “Since I grew up on a fucking farm, genius. Jesus who gave you permission to pursue higher education.”

the old grip of the familiar by littleseal

"There is a single black feather and a printed out picture of Gansey, Blue and Cheng standing in front of some fucking monument Ronan didn’t care enough to remember the name of. Gansey sent it to Ronan’s phone some time ago, but it sat in his messages until Adam picked it up and grinned at it so hard that, one afternoon later, Ronan cursed and kicked and glared his old printer back to life in order to print it out.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in love with a hoarder."

Adam collects things. Ronan is in love with him.

No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin by gansey_is_our_king

Ronan Lynch has wanted to kiss Adam Parrish for a long time.

(alternately titled: four times that Ronan could have kissed Adam)

Cheers to Another Seven Years! by skyermirth

Adam left Henrietta for Harvard and never returned. Now, seven years has passed, and an unexpected work assignment has brought him back to a place and people he hardly recognizes.

Row, row, row your boat by emmerrr

“What. Why are you smiling at me,” he says suspiciously.

Adam shrugs. “You’re cute.”

“I’m not cute, I’m terrifying.”

“Terrifyingly cute,” Adam says.

and now the world is ours to take / and every single move is ours to make by thatlittleblackcat

"Adam was the scientist, Ronan was the data, and Orphan Girl was the key that explained the strange outliers that Ronan presented, his previously unexplainable actions."

//

Adam sorts out his feelings, Ronan helps him, Gansey is the number one dad friend, Blue is the number one mom friend and Henry tries to make Ronan smile. Otherwise known as the story of how Orphan Girl became Opal.

All These Things You Make Me Feel by SilverOpals394

It was late. Adam could feel the long day catching up to him as he left Boyd’s, all his energy exhausted. When he started his car, the tape deck whirred to life once more. He sighed and raised his hand to turn it off, but before he did a soft melody began to play.

AU in which the mixtape Ronan made for Adam only plays the murder squash song until Adam realizes he's in love with Ronan, too.

Ways to Communicate by Jalules

Blue Sargent reflects on an early memory (and gets busy with her boyfriends.)

(The two things are related, trust me.)

Hold Me Closer, I'm Safe in Your Arms by actuallyronanlynch

“You wanna tell me why I had to hear from Henry Cheng that my boyfriend was at the hospital?” Adam hissed, though his voice wasn’t as acidic as it could’ve been. Ronan took small victories where he could.

“You don’t have a cellphone,” Ronan pointed out flatly. “It’s not like I could’ve gotten a hold of you.”

arts and crafts and the inevitability of death by sunshineinthestorm

Adam comes to the public library in search of a study spot, not a boyfriend. 

But it must be his lucky day—because he ends up with a bit of both.

 Roswell New Mexico

a conversation between insignificant others by Bellakitse

“Hey…have you noticed that our boyfriends are madly in love with each other?"

“You noticed that too, huh,” she answers dryly, letting out a huff of reluctant amusement.

***

Forrest and Maria share a drink and a conversation and start a friendship.

Own Personal Hell by BeStillMySlashyHeart

Now that Isobel's getting the hang of her telekinesis, Michael decides to test out his telepathic abilities. It backfires. Badly. Now Michael's trapped inside his own mind and only one person can break him out.

Drop the Hammer by brightloveee

Max makes a new friend at the shooting range, who turns out to be even more bad-ass than he expected.

(Takes place mid-S1)

Boys Like You by forgadgetsandgizmos

Curly, dirty blond hair (the mere description ‘curly’ felt like an injustice) twisted in every direction off his head, a sharp contrast with the scruff darkening his strong jawline and scowl-ridden face.

Alex made a mental note to compliment Maria on her excellent taste in men.

—

Or, Alex has coffee with Maria's one-night stand, a man who he definitely does not have a crush on.

let's exchange the experience by lostin_space

Michael decides they need to quarantine.

OR

Michael floods Alex with love and care over and over and over.

This Is Hardcore by Anonymous

Michael makes a proposal. Alex accepts. Michael wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

i don't know what to think (but i think of supernovas) by Milzilla

michael discovers that the console can talk. then, he discovers it can do far more than that.

iridescence on skin by Lire_Casander

In a world where (almost) everyone has a tattoo on their right wrist with one set of coordinates that point to the place where their soulmate is born, Alex thought he wouldn't be any different. He couldn't be more mistaken.

He has two.

The Real Thing by elliebird

Max checks on Michael the morning after Michael saves Max’s ass from Wyatt Long and his dumbass buddies. He sees more than he’s supposed to.

Written for a Tumblr anon who one of their friends walking in on them or anyone of them finding out about Michael and Alex in an interesting way 

Sundering by romancandles 

“You know it was just an Air Force balloon, right?” says Alex.

Michael smirks. “That’s what they want you to think,” he says, with a wink.

The Old Guard

Peer Reviewed by ishandahalf

[From:] Journal of Medieval Studies (jms.eds@jms.com)

[Subject:] Ad-hoc note from the editor

I have noticed an uncommon level of animosity in your responses to your reviewers (or rather, one reviewer in particular). I am writing to ask if you would please do your best to keep your interactions civil. In fairness, I have also sent a similar request to the reviewer you seem to have this friction with. I trust you will both try and remain more professional in the future.

Again, thank you for submitting your work to this journal.

Sincerely,

James Copley, PhD

Editor-in-Chief

Journal of Medieval Studies

An (accidental) academic epistolary romance as (inadvertently) documented via a (theoretically) rigorously blinded peer review process.[citation needed]

third for a word and the song keeps going Macremae

It was honestly shaping up to be a pretty uneventful year before the Vatican got on Nicky’s bad side.

Or: three times in 2008 that the team genuinely thought about killing Nicky if only to get him to shut up about the changes to the Catholic English Mass and his unrelenting opinions on them, and one time Nile did.

Apex Predators In Island Ecosystems (Freeman et al., in press) by Sixthlight

Palaeobotany PhD student Nile Freeman and her supervisor Joe al-Kaysani are invited to billionaire Stephen Merrick’s new project – a theme park full of cloned dinosaurs. What could possibly go wrong?

This Rough Magic by Marivan

When Joe came to Scotland to study the sea, he did not expect to also encounter a beautiful man claiming that A. he’s a selkie and B. they’re married because Joe picked up his scarf.

It sounds like a fairy tale and that’s a problem. Because Joe’s a scientist. And selkies don’t exist.

Wars for the broken by Yuliares

Five years into his exile, Booker is joined by a companion he never expected to meet. Together, they try to work on healing.

Sometimes they go down to the sewers just so she can scream and scream. “I like to hear it echo,” she explains. “Underwater, you can’t hear anything. Here, at least I can be heard.”

“I don’t feel like a warrior anymore,” she tells him, throwing bread crumbs at pigeons. “I feel broken.”

“You’re still a warrior,” he says roughly. “This is still fighting.”

a good (eighth) impression by deanniker

Over the next few months, Joe runs into Nicky every so often at the farmer’s market. Some weekends Nicky doesn’t make it, because of his work schedule - Joe doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t ask, though he does start to recognize when one of those missing weekends is coming up because Nicky will stock up on things with longer shelf-life. When they do run into each other, they make small talk and move through the stalls together.

Joe doesn’t mention it to Lykon when he stops by, because it is kind of weird, that Lykon’s ex-boyfriend texts Joe things like - If you’re here, the apples look particularly good this week and thank you for that recipe, I did not know what I was going to do with that much couscous

Or,

Joe wouldn't usually consider starting anything with his best friend's ex, but as long as they keep it casual, it shouldn't be weird... right?

get back to where you once belonged by tenderjock

Nile takes a sip of her cappuccino and closes her eyes.

(Booker and Nile get that coffee. Life happens, along the way.)

a house; a home by mehm

“Is this a kidnapping?” Joe asks as Nicky checks both their seat belts. “Like, I don’t mind. It’s just not quite what I expected for my birthday.”

In which Joe gets a birthday surprise, because that’s the stuff you have time for when you and the love of your life become mortal at the same time.

the ties that bind by damaskrose

“There’s a story I heard many times,” Andy begins, “in the Mediterranean. Threads of fate and three sisters. One to spin, one to measure, and one to cut.”

Clutter And Croutons by flawedamythyst

Joe and Nicky have an argument, and then Nicky talks to Nile about what it really means to be in a relationship for 900 years.

Inception

My Big Fat Slightly Annoying Wedding by jibrailis

Arthur and Eames elope for ~tax reasons. Certain people in their lives are not happy at the lack of a wedding.

Remember Sydney by pathera

When Eames shambles into the safe house outside of London, he finds a red light blinking on the phone.

For the inception_kink prompt:

Arthur is on a plane which is about to crash. No way anyone is going to survive. Instead of panicking he calmly calls the team's office and gets the answering machine. He hangs up before the plane crashes.

Give me Arthur's last message to the team.

 (TW: Character Death / Angst)

Of Such Deceitfulness and Suavity by delires

In which emotions manifest themselves in unusual ways.

YO, K2tog (it's like a code) by lazulisong

“Oh my God,” moans Arthur. “I’ve paid less for Somnacin. Good Somnacin.” A horrible thought strikes him. “How much is the yarn --”

“I want you to have an unguarded reaction,” Eames tells him, and pulls him up from the floor.

(They run an extraction on a knitter.)

hit the ground running by orphan_account

"I travelled halfway around the world for you. I dealt with the French for you."

Valley by wldnst

It's an old story: a knight, a prince, a kingdom in peril.

If This Is Rain Let It Fall On Me and Drown Me by Brangwen

We used to be so brave, Eames thought. Of the two of them, Arthur had always been the more fearless.

a gentle familiarity by jollypuppet

Two weeks later, Eames is on his doorstep with bad Italian takeout and a grin, and Arthur tells him he can sleep on the couch.

Your Crisis Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by sevenimpossiblethings

Arthur doesn't do snow, Ariadne is determined to be as Midwestern as possible, and blizzards make cell phone service unreliable.

Let’s Say I Do (I Do) by xsilverdreamsx

There were, perhaps some things worse that this, Arthur thinks, as he glares at the letter in his hand with his name printed clearly in bold ink, indicating his presence in two weeks for his esteemed marriage to one William H. Eames, III, at St. Catherine's Church in London, England.

Star Trek (predominantly Kirk/McCoy)

Show the World That Something Good Can Work by knune

Leonard McCoy is a doctor, not a personal assistant, and maybe that's why he can't stand working for Jim Kirk.

It's in the little things by winterover

Bones is bemused by a persistent secret admirer.

"Wedding" Away with It by pendrogon

One morning, Bones wakes up and he's single. By the same afternoon, he's married to Jim Kirk for Arbitrary Fic Reasons(TM).

How Long Will You Stay (For Your Whole Life) by withthepilot

Jim Kirk, deputy director of the Enterprise parks and recreation department, sees all of his hard work fall to pieces when budget specialist Leonard McCoy arrives from the state capital to cut Jim's budget and threaten the livelihoods of his colleagues. But thanks to a major parks project, Leonard finds a place in the department, as well as in Jim's life—and when all is said and done, Jim doesn't want him to leave.

All-Time Favorite by mardia

What to do when your best friend suddenly starts making new friends. 

Joy Ride by Cards_Slash

While running for their lives from an alien species Kirk had accidentally enraged, they come across a car. And well, if you were to come across a car while being chased by aliens that wanted you dead, and you possessed some lingering knowledge of how to drive a car similar to said car, you would have decided to drive it toward the nearest cliff too.

Also a gunfight.

Syncytia by epistolic

He’d signed up for Starfleet on an impulse, but Starfleet meant James Tiberius Kirk: the first – and second, and third, and fourth – big mistake of Leonard McCoy’s life.

Renovation by canistakahari

Jim has a whammy put on him by an alien death ray and he suddenly craves domesticity. He's crazy with longing to shop at space!Ikea and get potted bamboo and he starts looking into adopting AND HE HATES HIMSELF AND CANNOT CONTROL THE SHIT. Luckily, McCoy is drunk all the time and plays house.

17:08 by butterflycell

She'd watched the news holos with a sick feeling, searching for information that was completely obvious in its absence. Amidst the reports of the the Enterprise's miraculous recovery and the damages sustained, there had been next to nothing about the crew or her captain. Jim had been mentioned only in passing, his name shied away from as his first officer limited interaction to the bare essentials.

The Honey of Hybla by shrift

"Bones, prepare to be my date."

[natromanxoff]

19 - The Dynamic Duo V Montreux

Hello folks. I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs and I thought I would give the old hard drive a clean up, so before I dump a load of rubbish I thought I'd better answer these before I throw everything in the recycle bin. Let's start with a lady from New Jersey who goes by the name of Dorothy who gave me a very interesting offer for the next time I'm in New York. If you're reading this Dorothy, could you send Jacky your email address so I can reply to you. I've just opened up a "secret" Hotmail account so I can send replies without pestering the lovely Mrs Smith all the time, and to test it I went to the guestbook and picked a few names at random. Maybe I should reply to the irate drummer, but if I do that he'll just reply to me and the girls in the office will miss out on laughing at him as well. Staying with the skin bashers for a mo, Ron Hansen in Madison is a drummer, and said he liked my jokes and reckons Mr Irate uses three sticks, two in his hands and one up his arse (his words not mine). Would I be correct in saying your a Zep fan Ron? Today's question is, "What do you get if you cross a drummer with a roadie?" The answer is a stupid roadie.

Moving on, last time around I mentioned a drink which we consumed in Brazil, and the charming Sonia and Dina informed me it was called Caipirinha, and a pleasant little tipple it was to. Somewhere in Australia there is a lady called Karen who is listening to the Offspring CD non-stop, so I'm gonna have to try and answer her question as she has such great musical tastes, even though she wants to know the..........(flashing lights, fireworks, drum roll) Hoover Salesman Story. ARGHHHH. Its actually a very short tale, and I think it's quiet boring but it seems to have grown in stature over the years, and as always I'm gonna drag it out and start from the first skiing expedition that I ventured on with RT.

Having checked my trendy little biog mag, I reckon the year is 1980, and the dynamic duo are in Montreux putting the finishing touches to Fun in Space and we have a few days off before a tour starts in Zurich when Rog says, "Let's go skiing." He had skied a few times before and was ok at it, but I had never put a pair of skis on in my life. I said, "Lets go, but you ski and I'll just get pissed." He then went on about what a buzz it is and how I would love it, etc. As we were touring soon our American crew had to fly out, so I called up Jim Devenney and told him to come over a couple of days earlier cause we were gonna ski. Jim is a great skier and was on the first flight available and I picked him up at Geneva airport ready for some fun. That night we hit the town and have too many drinks and Rog goes off to bed semi early, while Jim and myself sat out on the jetty of Duckingham Palace with a ghetto blaster, Derek and Clive tapes, and a vat of wine singing disgusting songs at full blast, which must have echoed over to France. Suddenly we hear a French voice screaming at us and we have no idea what he was saying so we carried on goofing around, and the next thing I hear is a huge splash as Devenney falls in.

Let me assure you that a drunk trying to get a drunk out of Lake Geneva is not an easy task, but we succeed and head back to DP and retire to our rooms. I'd just got into bed when I hear a crash and go to investigate, only to find JD had gone in the wrong room and was trying to get into a baby's cot, and getting him out of there was harder than getting him of the lake.

Next day Roger, Dave Richards, his wife Collette, Jim and myself set off to Zermatt, and on arrival we stock up on skis, passes and other skiing paraphernalia (big words now!) Dinner, drinks and off to bed. Next morning we're up and ready to go, and thinking I'll never ski again after this I refuse to waste money on a ski suit, so I wear jeans. My second wrong move, the first was agreeing to go. The hotel owner wouldn't let us leave the hotel without first drinking a couple of Sambuccas, not my idea of a good breakfast, eggs, bacon, tea, toast and Italian liqueurs, but who are we to refuse. Next I've got to try and walk in those godamn boots, and we eventually arrive at the top of the Matterhorn.

The OK skiers, RT and Dave set off on their own, Collette begins a very slow trip down while JD tells me he'll stay and teach me. On go the skis, and down I go, flat on my arse. Up I get and I'm off, for all of about 2ft before I'm down again. This is not any fun. After a couple more tumbles my great mate Jim said, "If you're gonna f*** around I'm going." And thats the last I saw of him all day. Thanks pal. I'm standing there watching people ski and think, "It can't be that hard. If you stand like this, lean like that, you can ski." So I stand and lean in the correct positions and I'm away, screeching down a mountain with only one very small problem, I have no idea how to turn or stop, so as I'm flying past Collette, and she reckons I looked very worried, I yelled for some advice and all she said was, "DIVE." Sound advice, so thats what I do, and by now I'm getting wet. I wait for her and then we set off together, the blind leading the blind, with me diving at the slightest bit of speed or bend in the piste. A million years later we eventually reach the bottom of this awful slope and it's finally over. Wrong. Theres a T-bar to get on so we wait in line till it's our turn. You're supposed to put the bar just under your bum and it drags you up, but I'm 6ft and Collettes about 5ft 5in, so the bar was either in the middle of her back or around my knees, and no one told me not to sit on the f***ing thing and we bounced around for a while until we fell off. I'm now getting really pissed off with all this, "Get me a helicopter," I demanded from Collete. She told me they don't just send them, you have to be hurt. I replied with, "I'll break my f***ing arm but I've gotta get off this mountain." Realising I'm not getting a copter I light a ciggie and ponder.

We agree to split up and go with someone our own height, so I ended up with a great German guy who was really helpful. Once on the T-bar I can see that it goes way up and I would have to ski back down to base camp, and in case you've forgotten, I can't ski, so I said that I was gonna bail out, and jumped off. I then head of in a straight line to the cable car, skis on the shoulder and wading through 3ft of snow in a pair of very heavy and very cold jeans. What seemed like hours of wading I make civilisation and head to the bar for a triple strength coffee and a triple scotch while everyone gawked at me cause I looked like I had a shower fully clothed. Yeah, I wanna do this again.

Dinner that night was great fun for the others cause they got to take the piss out of me. Their day will come. The rest of the nights activities shall remain sealed away, but a good time was had by one and all. The tour went smoothly and I try and put Zermatt behind me, except Collette, still to this day, takes great delight in telling everyone about it, and everytime she says it she makes me look more and more pathetic.

The next winter appears and I'm at home and the phone rings, "CT, wanna go skiing?" To which my reply was nothing like, "Oh I'd love to you fabulous little drummer boy." I can't believe he talked me into it again, but this time we were gonna do things correctly and go to Aviemore in Scotland and take lessons, this was the saving factor in his plan. So once again we pile into the Range Rover and aim north. We split the driving (for a change) and had a good journey up through the snow covered mountains till we get to the resort. A usual night was on the cards, dinner, drinks and bed, then up bright and early for some lessons and a good day on the slopes. This time we've both got the correct outfits so we head off to where our little group of idiot skiers are. We're all standing in a line, with Rog and me at the end, and each person gets to snow-plough a few feet. These clowns have less idea than my first try, and it's also incredibly cold and we've now got icicles hanging off our hair. It's our turn and we both look like olympic champions, but the only thing wrong with getting it right the first time is that the instructor then turns his attentions back to the start of the line. Here I am once again standing on the top of a mountain, freezing cold with two 'things' stuck on the end of a pair of stupid boots, and I inform His Royal Highness that the next trip away involves sand and sun, no excuses, end of argument. RT agreed that this wasn't much fun and thought my idea worth considering.

We finally heard the two magic words, "Lunch Break." We're gone in search of some good HOT food and a nice beaujolais, and we found both. We also found that the hotel bar had an amazing selection of whisky, and we had to try as many as possible. We're now semi pissed and decide that as we're warm we might as well go back to this lesson even though we are very late, and the instructor looked at us and said, "Where have you two been?" Rog came back with "Trying lots of your wonderful scotch's." He was fine with that answer and we carried on trying to learn something, and would you believe by the end of the day I could actually turn and stop.

Back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. Over a very nice meal and a couple of little drinkettes we agree that it's far to cold here and we'll clear off the next day, so into the bar we go with our earlier mission of trying all the scotch's. We were sitting at a table chatting away and cracking jokes with each other and end up talking to the couple on the next table, swapping skiing stories, needless to say mine were very short, and having a bit of a laugh, when the woman said, "What do you two do for a living?" God knows why, but I said; "We're Hoover salesmen." At first they didn't believe us but we both started going on about the difference between domestic and industrial cleaners, uprights, backpack types, ones you pull along the floor. We went on about the different wattage, suction power, the amount of pressure on Axminsters and Wilton carpets, even a couple of car expressions like overhead this and thats. What the hell do we know about vacuum cleaners? But boy are we good at this. After about 30 mins of utter bullshit the subject finally changed and they wished us all the best with our door to door salesmanship and off they went to bed. We then had to reassure each other what we actually did for a living, had some more drinks and tried to work out how we knew so much about cleaners as both of us have spent most of our lives trying to stay well away from them. We spent the drive back to London having a good laugh about the one day we spent in a Scottish ski resort.

Well that's it folks, the story of a small company, R & C Taylor,..... Hoover Salesmen. I did learn to ski quite well, and whilst in Gstadd doing the Shove it album Spike flew out cause he fancied learning to ski, and the fool asked me to teach him. I wasn't much help because everytime he fell over I burst out laughing cause I kept seeing myself in Zermatt, and Spike looked just as worried and stupid as I did.

Before I go I noticed that Jacky had to get her boiler fixed and said for me not to make a comment, but little things like that spark me off and I remembered that when we were recording in the Townhouse Studios I had a little, no a big affair with the studio chef. Every three months Virgin would do a magazine for all their staff, written by all the heads of various departments, airlines, studios, video, shops, films, etc. and they would say what was going on with their particular section. Alan Douglas, who was chief engineer of all Virgin studios wrote who was recording where, and he wrote, "Queen are in studio 4, and Crystal, their main man is stoking the kitchen boiler." I thought that was hilarious, but Jane went ballistic. That's it for now.

Loadsa luv Crystal (Carpet cleaner to the stars)

[binderclipdocs]

Hello! I’m wondering what your take is on Dear Friend (and especially “I’m in love with a friend of mine”?) I find the song a little confusing, and I’ve read a lot of different interpretations. I really love your films and I know you’ve done a lot of research, would love to know what you think. Thanks!

Thanks for your appreciation, anon!  I love Dear Friend and am happy to share my thoughts on this haunting, mournful, mysterious song!

I’ll be the first to admit the lyrics are confusing (like so many McCartney songs!), mostly by virtue of the fact that Paul uses “friend” twice in a row.  Are there two friends, or only one?  By using the word “friend” on top of each other as he does, it suggests either a single friend (the titular “Dear Friend”) in two situations OR two friends, in separate/competing situations.

Dear Friend, throw the wine 

I’m in love with a friend of mine 

Really, truly, young and newlywed

Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, interpretation, fantasy, etc.  and no one but McCartney himself can definitively declare precisely what he meant with this song.  But it’s my opinion that Paul was saying the latter; that he is in love with his friend and new wife, Linda.  This is my conclusion after having deeply researched this period extensively for TWO documentary series (McCartney (2020) and Understanding Lennon/McCartney), an opinion that obviously no one is required to entertain and anyone is free to discard.  But for those who are interested, I’ll share my reasoning below.

Firstly, this is NOT an attempt to disprove that Paul was ever in love with John or vice verse.  They both used this term publicly and therefore probably/possibly did privately with each other as well.  But Paul’s statements in April, 1970 pretty clearly spell out the situation:

“Personally, I don’t think John could do the Beatles thing now. I don’t think it would be good for him.

John’s in love with Yoko, and he’s no longer in love with the other three of us. And let’s face it, we were in love with the Beatles as much as anyone.”

So John and Paul were “in love” (with each other as people, or the Beatles as a concept, or Lennon/McCartney as a team, etc) for a long time.  But by 1970, they both have new spouses and new lives and are following different paths.  Here’s a brief recap of the events that led to this statement:

In a now-famous meeting in September 1969, John told Paul that he was leaving the Beatles and wanted a divorce.  Whether this was an idle threat designed to scare/hurt Paul, or a real desire on John’s part is open to interpretation, but Paul, for his part, took it seriously.  

Allen Klein asked John not to go public with his decision to leave the group and John happily and uncharacteristically agreed to sit on this “news” indefinitely.  Paul subsequently disappeared for 6-8 weeks, mourned the loss of the band privately in Scotland, and then began working on his first solo album. Communication between John and Paul fell apart at that point, and John began a campaign of maneuvers - possibly engineered or facilitated by Klein - to bring Paul back into the Beatles’ fold and force him to submit to Klein’s management and John’s leadership. Backed into a proverbial corner by John, George, Ringo, Yoko and Klein, Paul played the last card he had: he quit.

In April 1970, Paul made the split official (deliberately or accidentally? YMMV) with the release of his first solo LP, and attempted to finalize the divorce with an uncooperative John for the remainder of the year. As is pretty well-documented, Paul tried for a quick and amicable split, requesting a release from the Beatles’ contract. But after John was unresponsive and Allen Klein advised him to set duplicitous legal traps that would prevent Paul from separating from the Beatles, Paul (as advised by his lawyers) decided to sue for divorce by the end of 1970.

By 2020, even the most casual Beatles fans know two basic truisms: 1) that Paul loved John always and 2) that Paul didn’t want the band to break up. Of course there’s more to the story than just that. We have also been told repeatedly that John “left Paul,” but this is not the whole truth either.

Essentially what John did was yell “I’m breaking up with you!” and then block the door every time Paul tried to leave.

As late as September, 1971 John is still saying publicly that he hopes Paul will return.  

Int.: Let's talk a bit about Paul's aversion to Klein. From what we've read it seemed as if this wasn't there in the beginning, even though Paul wanted the Eastmans to run things. But it came on later as things progressed. And yet despite this, we gather that Klein was still hoping that Paul would return to the group.

John: Oh, he'd love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I've said that. In five years he'll wake up.

[Narrator voice: Paul did not came back.]

Yes, Paul loved John.  No, Paul didn’t want the Beatles to break up.  

But when John said he wanted out, Paul took him seriously, respected his decision, never made a single attempt to woo John back and showed up 6 months later with a moving van and divorce papers.

When you hear Dear Friend out of context -knowing only that Paul loved John and was sad after the breakup- it’s not wholly unreasonable to think maybe Paul was declaring his eternal love for John here:

I’m in love with a friend of mine really, truly, young and newlywed

But when you experience Dear Friend in the proper context, that interpretation sounds less and less likely.  Here’s Paul:

April 21, 1970

“I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming me. You can’t blame John for falling in love with Yoko any more than you can blame me for falling in love with Linda.

We tried writing together a few more times, but I think we both decided it would be easier to work separately.  I told John on the phone the other day that at the beginning of last year I was annoyed with him. I was jealous because of Yoko, and afraid about the break-up of a great musical partnership. It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me."

Summer 1970

Paul writes John a 12-page letter requesting that they “let each other out of the trap.” John’s response was a picture of himself and Yoko with a balloon drawn above his head saying “How and Why?”

Paul responded: “How? By singing a paper that says we hereby dissolve our partnership. Why? Because there is no partnership.”

April 16, 1971

PAUL:  “We used to get asked at press conferences, 'What are you going to do when the bubble bursts?' When I talked to John just the other day, he said something about, 'Well, the bubble's going to burst.' And I said, 'It has burst. That's the point. That's why I've had to do this, why l had to apply to the court. You don't think I really enjoy doing that kind of stuff. I had to do it because the bubble has burst-- everywhere but on paper.' That's the only place we're tied now.”

Nov 11, 1971

MM: But John said to me that what you’d done in bringing the [court] trials up and everything was what they all wanted, that you’d just done it a lot earlier than they would have done.

PAUL: Well if that’s true, well… well, come on! That’s – see, I’ve told you… The joke is, though, that we don’t have to do trials. It’s not necessary. If the four Beatles signed a bit of paper, or even ripped the old contract up and said, “This contract is no longer valid, we all hereby said it, we all legally direct the shareholders…” the whole thing, to wind it all up, we could do it. And if that’s really what he wants, he could do it this minute. [snaps fingers]

Furthermore, Paul was deeply in love with Linda during this period, as reflected by: the songs on both McCartney and RAM, the testimony of those around them at the time and by Paul’s own recollections.  The first few years of Paul and Linda’s marriage was their honeymoon period, their era as newlyweds.  It was certainly an awful time for Paul in many respects:  the business battles of the Beatles were excruciating and extremely stressful and the loss of his three best friends was heartbreaking. Furthermore, the rock press had largely turned against him (sometimes viciously so), and John & Yoko (and Allen Klein) were painting him as a traitor to the counterculture and a villain for destroying the Beatles with his granny music, giant ego and overbearing personality.  Paul and Linda were extremely isolated, partially by choice and partially by force.  

But even though this was a terrible time for Paul in many respects, he was extremely happy with his new family.  He later described this period with Linda as one of the happiest periods of their life. Paul has said numerous times Linda (along with nature and horse-riding) brought him out of depression after the Beatles ended and gave him the strength to push forward with his solo career, at a time when many were rooting against him (and a literal cult was forming that claimed he was DEAD and had been replaced by an inferior imposter- let that sink in for a moment!).  He has been consistent about it over the years, and reiterated it as recently as 2020:

UNCUT: Tell me about the guy in the photo n the McCartney sleeve.  He looks happy. 

PAUL:  I was really happy, yeah.  The Beatles had become such a business machine, and with the arrival of Allen Klein the whole thing, every day was very unpleasant. 

UNCUT: So there you were on the farm, finding solace in a new family... 

PAUL: Yes. I had a little place in Scotland.  So we just went out there. “It’s so remote, no one can be bothered trekking all the way up here for a meeting.” It was a good period. We grabbed our freedom- you know what, we seized the day! Also, I had a new baby; I’d not been a father before, so I was very happy.

In December of 1970, John gave his infamous Lennon Remembers interview to Rolling Stone.  According to the liner notes of the Wildlife reissue from 2018 (and confirmed by the timing of the demo), Paul composed Dear Friend in reaction to John’s comments in that interview (not How Do You Sleep, as is commonly believed).  But he sat on the song for awhile and didn’t record it until late 1971 (for inclusion on Wildlife).  Judging from the tone of Too Many People and other songs on RAM, Paul’s initial sadness, confusion and disappointment gradually morphed into (or perhaps swung back and forth between) anger and defiance, accompanied by a taunting and/or gloating tone.  Having gotten Dear Friend out of his system, it seems it simply didn’t fit thematically on RAM. Perhaps after the release of HDYS, Paul was deflated and despondent enough to return to Dear Friend?  Perhaps Jealous Guy tempered or calmed Paul’s anger?   

Or maybe it was just a genuine attempt to turn the heat down.  We know that immediately following its release, John and Paul agreed (seemingly at Paul’s insistence) to quit bickering in public.

In any case, Dear Friend is a complex songs with a spectrum of emotions. Unlike Jealous Guy it is not apologetic; it’s mournful but also incredulous and slightly accusatory.  Paul appears to be calling John’s bluff:  Do you really believe all the bullshit you’re spewing?

Are you a fool, or is it true?

The John Lennon of Lennon Remembers is without hope or faith, denouncing everything he ever believed in and everyone he ever trusted -with the notable exceptions of Allen Klein, Phil Spector and Yoko.  Paul clearly loves John and hopes to salvage their relationship, but Dear Friend was written at a time when John was being manipulated and exploited by people he later admitted were misplaced “daddy figures.” While Klein and Spector turned out to not be the most reliable friends to John, Paul certainly seems to know and understand John’s vulnerabilities and motivations better than most.  As he sings in the demo:

Are you afraid?  Or are you blue?

So why does Paul mention that he’s newlywed and in love with Linda? Firstly, because he is, and he wants to celebrate with his best friend. We know Paul’s desire was for the two couples to make peace and be friends.  Pour the Wine.  Clink glasses and celebrate their new marriages together.

PAUL: Dear Friend was to do with John, a bit of longing about John. Let’s have a glass of wine and forget about it. A making up song. (July 2001).

This is precisely what the two couples did in December of 1971, immediately following the release of Wildlife.  

JOHN: We were both nervous, the four of us were nervous. I hadn’t seen him for a long time. I’d spoken on the phone [with him]. Uh, it was alright, you know. It was alright.

This is precisely what happened again throughout 1974 (with John & May Pang this time around), which John affectionately called their “Beaujolais evenings.”   

Admittedly, It may seem odd for Paul to mention that he is happily married (and in love with another “friend”) in a make up song to John.  Until you think about the romantic tension between John and Paul and Paul’s bold public recognition of it with this statement:  “It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me.” Paul acknowledges here that John is in love with Yoko and wants John to acknowledge his love for Linda as well.  

In Dear Friend he’s communicating that there is nothing to fear; they are secure in their respective marriages, there is no need to be hurt or angry or jealous anymore.  We’re no longer partners, but we can still be friends.  “Let’s have a glass of wine and forget about it.”  A softer, gentler version of: Wake up, John. It’s over. Sign the fucking papers already.

So I think of Dear Friend as an olive branch, but not the groveling type some apparently do.  And I most definitely do not think it was a signal to John that Paul was still in love with him, despite being newlywed to Linda. 

I suppose it might seem a bit brutal for Paul to be singing about loving someone else in a song to John (although he’s done it before and I think John has done the same).  But I honestly think it is something Paul believes John needs to hear and accept at this point; that he is “really, truly” in love with Linda and that he’s not about to divorce her or run after the first “blonde with big tits” as Allen Klein so charmingly suggested. 

By September 1971, John still hasn’t seemed to accept Linda, or Paul’s relationship with her:

John: Paul always wanted the home life, you see. [... long, rambling story about being terrified when Paul got a job in 1961 and for a second looked as if he might abandon John and the group] 

 All the other girls were just groupies mainly. And with Linda not only did he have a ready-made family, but she knows what he wants, obviously, and has given it to him. The complete family life. He's in Scotland. He told me he doesn't like English cities anymore. So that's how it is.

Int.: So you think with Linda he's found what he wanted? 

John: I guess so. I guess so. I just don't understand . . . I never knew what he wanted in a woman because I never knew what I wanted.

With comments like this John seems (IMO) to be twisting himself into knots trying to rationalize Paul’s choice of Linda, practically wondering aloud what could she give him that I couldn’t?  He still seems unwilling to face or accept what Paul begrudgingly accepted and admitted years before: that his partner fell in love with someone else.

Here’s 76 year old Paul reminiscing about this tender, bittersweet time in his life, happy and in love with his wife and young family and simultaneously in deep pain over losing his dearly beloved best friend:

I remember when I heard the song recently, listening to the roughs  in the car. And I thought, ‘Oh God’. That lyric: ‘Really truly, young and newly wed’. Listening to that was like, ‘Oh my God, it’s true!’ I’m trying to say to John, ‘Look, you know, it’s all cool. Have a glass of wine. Let’s be cool.’

“Let’s be cool.”  Not “Please take me back,” not “Ignore my just-for-show marriage, I’m still in love with YOU.” To me, Paul is saying “I’m really, truly in love with my friend and new wife, can we please just be happy for each other? It’s all cool.” And for the record, I don’t find this sentiment any less loving on Paul’s part because I don’t think Paul being in love with his own wife (which he was), detracts from his love for John in any way. Again, I agree that the lyrics are slightly ambiguous, and perhaps this is meaningful too.  It could be that the lack of hard boundary between the two friends (John and Linda) reflects how much Paul loves them both; they certainly aren’t positioned as opposites (i.e. I love her but I hate you). Instead they’re both part of the imagined celebration; Paul wants them all to share the wine together- and he wants them to tolerate (love) each other. 

I think the traditional narrative doesn’t account for all of this because the traditional narrative does not acknowledge that John has any feelings for Paul in the first place. How in the world could Paul be asking John to “be cool” and accept the new situation when John didn’t even care about Paul in the first place and had been trying to get rid of him for years?  This perception - of John gleefully blasting Paul with HDYS and Paul replying that he’s in love with John - has taken hold in many minds and has picked up a lot of steam in recent years with so-called “jean jackets” because they fundamentally believe that Paul’s love for John was one-sided. They cannot comprehend that Paul would ever tell John to “cool it” or back off in any way (even in 70-71) because they take the surface story at face value:  John dumped Paul for Yoko and heartbroken Paul spent the rest of his life desperately trying to win John back. This is the narrative depicted in virtually every book I’ve read. My analysis is based on my own research, not this narrative.

I would invite readers of this post to watch (or re-watch) ULM (particularly volume 3 ) for a more comprehensive study of John and Paul’s relationship.  

Lastly, after doing my own independent research for McCartney (2020), I found that the Paul McCartney described by the musicians and collaborators in Paul’s life was dramatically different from the person depicted in books like Man on the Run. My films are free from narration and commentary; I rely on first-hand interviews and information from the people involved, and in my opinion there is a great deal to be learned about Paul from the way he relates to others, especially through music. And although the McCartney series is about his solo career as opposed to his Beatle career, I would definitely recommend it to anyone who is interested in Lennon/McCartney for the insights they could gain. 

Thank you very much for this ask- hopefully there aren’t too many typos!

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You  Chapter 1 ~Sparks Will Fly~

Notes

Hey guys, I'm back with a Christmas Ficlet, "All I Want For Christmas Is You," starring our favourite couple, Jamie and Claire.

It won't be my usual long story, but it's my wee gift to my readership who'd been following my journey in writing and always encouraging me with their insightful comments and kudos. 

Please don't be disheartened when I don't always reply back to your comments, as I spend every spare time I have writing. When I'm not writing, I'm dealing with this thing called life and taking care of my loves. But I promise you, I always look forward to reading your feedback, and if you have any questions of any sorts, I will answer them. If you see any mistakes or you wish to impart something I'm doing wrong or give me some ideas, please bear in mind I welcome constructive criticism, and I welcome opinions. I would even thank you for it, and I promise you I won't take it personally. The reason I say this is because I wholeheartedly wish to improve my writing and what a better way when my readers can share their thoughts with me. 

Without further ado, I wish you all happy reading.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

James Fraser stepped into the pub followed by his older brother Willie. Although it was still early evening, there was already a small crowd all hyped up into a party mode. The multiple flat TV screens on the walls were showing world championship darts without the sounds. Instead, the speakers blared with Wham's Last Christmas song with the random interference from the resident DJ. While a handful of men milled around the bar holding their pints, the women sat at the table chattering animatedly and sipping long drinks and port. With Christmas Eve only two days away, there was a sense of excitement and goodwill in the air, typical of the festive season.

"Check out those birds at three o'clock."

Jamie cocked his head at Willie's words.

Two wide-eyed bonnie lassies stood next to the pool table sipping cocktails as if awaiting their turn for a game. Living in a tight community where everyone knew everybody and their business, Jamie immediately discerned the girls were visitors.

Willie unzipped his jacket. "I saw blondie first."

Jamie followed his brother's line of sight, but his eyes darted back to the dark-haired lass with the palest skin he'd ever seen, her tresses done up in a messy bun. Her long legs, accentuated by tight black jeans, grabbed his complete attention. She had a cropped red cable-knit sweater on and boots caked with mud which meant she must have been watching the shinty game earlier along with the rest of the village folks.

"Bloody hell, look at her," Willie murmured.

Blondie wore a purple turtle neck top that showed off her nice breasts, and jeans that hugged her hips snuggly. Jamie grinned. "Och, ye like 'em curvy, but I like her mate more. Shall we talk to them?"

"Aye, let's do that before one of those lads get there first." 

Jamie made a move forward.

"Hang on a minute," Willie's hand slapped across Jamie's chest, stopping him mid-saunter. "Yer ex ... she's back here for the holidays. She's sat at the bar with her mates. Are ye sure ye're ready for this?"

"Aye, aye. It's been over between us for ages," Jamie replied, not taking his eyes off the dark-haired lass. He hadn't thought about his ex for a long time and whatever he thought he'd felt for her back then, was nothing but a distant memory.

"This is just a bit of fun, alright? Dinnae get to attached. Blondie and her mate are probably tourists."

Willie had seen him go through hell over a year ago with his ex, who he thought had been the one for him. She had turned his life upside down, affecting his job, and his ability to stay sober after she'd cheated on him. Once Jamie got his act together, he'd sworn off serious relationships and decided to concentrate on work.

"Fun. Fun sounds good," Jamie muttered. When Willie didn't release him, he looked at his brother square in the eyes. "How about ye?"

"What about me?"

"Ye haven't chatted up a lass in a very long time. Are ye sure you still know how to?" Jamie asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Willie shoved his shoulder and feigned offence. "Ye cheeky git! Cannae chat any lass up when I know everyone here, now, can I?" 

Jamie nodded toward the two girls. "Weel, what are we waiting for?" He took a deep breath and kinked his head sideways to the left and then to the right. "If we're just gonnae stand here like a couple of numpties and discuss, we'd be too late by the time we get there."

"Mmm, never seen ye this eager to meet a lass before," Willie grinned.

Jamie looked back at the women and noticed they were beginning to garner attention from the lads nearby. The dark-haired one made a move around the pool table followed by her mate, and he was powerless to stop his gaze wandering down to the gentle curve of her arse.

Willie straightened his posture. "Let's go," he exhaled as he made a move.

Jamie followed suit and lined up next to his brother. As they got closer, he watched as the dark-haired lass skirted past a group of pool players with a polite smile, then wrote her initials in chalk on a blackboard mounted to the wall, claiming the next game. CB, she scrawled.

She wrinkled her nose and laughed at something her friend said as she started moving towards the bar. Jamie's frown deepened when the lass didn't see the sports bag put into her path. A few steps more, and she would trip and fall flat on her face. But not if he could help it.

"Hey!" Jamie shouted, abandoning Willie's side. "Hey, ye!"

She took another step, looking over her shoulder to acknowledge what her friend was shouting at her.

"Ah, fuck!" Jamie gritted his teeth and hurried towards her in quick long strides. He had no choice but to jostle a couple of bodies out of his way as she showed no signs of hearing him. He caught her as her foot connected with the bulky bag, his arms sliding under hers and pulling her up.

Her forehead bounced off his chin. "Oh, Lordy, Lordy." She let out a lungful of air and dug her fingernails into his forearms, her breath on his neck feeling like a double shot of heat warming his insides. "I'm such a clumsy oaf."

"Hey mate, shoved that bag under the table will ye, before someone breaks their neck," Jamie shouted over the top of her head at the owner of the bag, his voice sounding a tad harsh. With her front plastered against him, Jamie could almost feel her shock subside, giving way to the vibration of her laughter. Still holding her close, he puffed out a sigh and whispered into her ears. "Next time, ye should look at where ye're going. Ye could have landed on yer face, and that wouldn't have been a pretty sight."

Still laughing, her shoulders shook, presumably finding the situation hilarious. "We left our Airbnb earlier in a hurry, and my contact lenses are at the bottom of my suitcase. I'm farsighted, you see, but I'm too vain to wear my specs."

"Enough to fall flat on yer face? "

A few heartbeats passed. "If I say yes, are you going to start yelling again?"

"Aye."

"Alright then ...no."

Realising he still held the lass in a firm grip, Jamie let her go slowly to reassure himself she was steady on her feet. She kept her head down as she took a step back to rummage through the handbag slung on her shoulder. When she got hold of what she was looking for, she put on a pair of specs and blinked up at him through round, black-rimmed eyeglasses. As their eyes met, he felt something crank in his chest. He must still be wound up from the shinty game earlier because, on a sucked-in breath, an uneven sound passed through his mouth. A Dhia. She had the most beautiful amber eyes, and they reminded him of the colour of the finest heavily peated single malt whisky, Islay had to offer. 

"Oooh!" she whispered. 

Aye, tell me about it. "What's yer name?"

"You're one of the shinty players from earlier."

"Uh-huh." He tamped down the urge to laugh. "Yer name?" he repeated.

If the spellbound look in her eyes meant she was stunned by what she saw, she wasn't the only one. "Oh, yes. Sorry. I'm Claire. Beauchamp. Claire Beauchamp."

"Claire." For some reason, colour bloomed in her face when he said her name. "I'm Jamie Fraser."

"Hi." After a few seconds of just staring at each other, she recovered first and slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, shoot, where are my manners? Thank you. Thank you for saving me from an undignified fall." Her lips twitched, and her eyes twinkled. "If I had died of embarrassment, at least no one would care since nobody knows me here."

"I would care." Someone collided into him from behind, making him close the distance between them and her head tilt back to maintain eye contact. She was a tall lass, but still, he was a head taller than her. "So ... ye're here on holiday?" he asked.

"Yes, I am ...until Boxing Day. And then we're going to Edinburgh for Hogmanay. And then flying back to London on Three Kings from Glasgow." He heard her swallow. "I have a thing for Christmas in Scotland, you see."

"Is that so? What else do ye have a thing for?"

"Probably a lot of other stuff," she whispered, clutching her handbag in front of her. "But I'm having difficulty thinking of them right this minute."

"And why is that?" God, she's breathtakingly beautiful.

"I guess I'm still rattled by that near fall." She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Or have you forgotten all about that already?"

Jamie couldn't stop his grin. "No, not at all." In his periphery, he saw his brother and Claire's friend chatting. He wondered if he could whisk Claire away. This lass is something else. She wasn't staying here for very long, and he wanted to get to know her and make every second count.

He cleared his throat. "Look, Sassenach ..." 

"Sassenach?"

He felt heat glid at the back of his neck. "Sorry ... it's a Gaelic word. It means an outsider or someone from not around here. In case ye misunderstood, it's not my intention to make it sound like ye're not welcome here. Let's just say I meant it as a pet name. Endearment, if ye will."

He regarded her as her eyes searched his face, and she made no effort at all to hide her perusal of his lips. When a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes lit up into a wicked glint, his chest expanded a hundred-fold. "I like the sound of that ...Sassenach," she breathed as she rolled the Gaelic word in her tongue.

"Mmm, so, you're from London, huh?"

She shoved her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. "Yeah. I'm originally from Oxford. But I live and work in London as an editorial assistant for a publishing company. How about you? What do you do, besides playing shinty?"

"I'm a tree surgeon. My brother and I run an arboricultural business."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, wow! I've never met a tree surgeon before. So I guess you must love your job to make it into a business?"

"Aye, I do," he smiled, basking in her open interest in his life. "I love the outdoors and the fresh air, whatever the weather. How about ye? Do ye like yer job?"

She paused and frowned in contemplation. "It's alright," she shrugged. "It's a job that will bring me closer to fulfilling a dream, I guess. I want to be a fulltime writer one day ..."

It was his turn to be surprised. "Maybe ye should move to the countryside if ye want to be a writer. Far too many distractions in London, don't ye think?"

She grinned. "Yeah, I suppose so. But I'm enjoying London at the moment, and I'm not quite ready to give up the city life. Just yet. Maybe one day." She glanced at her watch. "Umm ...you must have somewhere to go."

He wasn't ready to let her walk away, so he forced a worried cast into his face. "Eh, ye look still shaken up. We should probably get ye something stiff to drink ...and my phone number."

Her eyes widened, and after a tense split second, laughter burst out of her lips, loud enough to turn heads in their vicinity. She brought her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle but failed. The sound was so infectious, his own low rumble accompanied it, and he couldn't help but think, there's never been a time he felt such a powerful connection with another person. 

"Actually I'm with my mate here," Claire said finally, jerking a thumb over her shoulder and twisting around to the direction of where her friend stood. "She's my French flatmate. But it looks like she's already found someone to talk to." She paused and squinted her eyes. "Oh ...I recognise that bloke she's with. He played shinty too, didn't he?"

He waved at Willie and signalled him and Claire's friend to come over. "Aye, that's my older brother." 

Claire's gaze shot right back to him. "Really?" With a smile that showed off perfect teeth, she pushed her specs higher on her nose. "I wouldn't have thought. I don't have a sibling, and I just presumed your whole family would have the same gorgeous auburn hair like yours. Well, alright ..." She crimsoned to her hairline as she looked at his approaching brother. "I see some similarities now ...height, broad shoulders and the colour of your eyes."

Jamie felt a pinch of unease. Even though her vivacity was endearing, he wasn't ready to feel drawn to anyone this deeply or to care at such an alarming rate and intensity. After his last relationship broke down, there hadn't been anyone that piqued his interest ...until now. And she would be leaving in a few days. Chatting to her was only meant to be a night of enjoying the company of a beautiful lass or perhaps a diversion in whom he could lose himself into for a short time. But the moment he'd looked into her eyes, warm feelings drove into his heart while burning urges grew low in his tummy. This lass was a breath of fresh air and sexy and exactly what he needed. He mentally shook his head to clear his brain. Looking beyond the top of her head, he blurred the image of seeing this as something more. The long-distance relationship was a no-go. He was a country lad at heart, and she belonged to the city.

"Jamie?" She was staring at him as if he'd lost some of his ability to think clearly.

"I'm sorry ...still listening. It's just that I'm not used to a beautiful lass pointing out my physical attributes," he reassured her with a smile.

That beautiful blush blew across her face again. Jamie found it adorable. How could she be direct and shy at the same time? "I didn't mean to sound so bold. It must have something to do with me living in the city for so long ...you know, us Londoners tend to have no filters."

He winked at her. "Dinnae fash, lass. I kinda like it." And he meant it. 

She was about to respond when Willie and Claire's friend reached them, huge smiles painted across their faces like they'd hit it off.

The blonde girl took a step forward towards Jamie. "Hi! Claire and I enjoyed watching you guys play shinty earlier. I didn't realise it would be so aggressively physical. By the way, I'm Annalise," she smiled warmly, holding out her hand.

Jamie took it. "Aye, that it is and difficult to play when the grounds are too soggy. It could get pretty messy in this dreich weather." He shook her hand. "I'm Jamie ...please to meet ye."

"Likewise," Annalise replied, glancing at her friend.

Willie introduced himself to Claire, then brought his attention to their situation. "Looks like yer glasses are empty, ladies. Can we invite ye both to join us for a drink?"

Jamie saw Annalise elbow Claire with a conspiratorial look. When Claire nodded, Annalise batted her eyes at his brother. "Sure. That would be nice. I'd like a vodka and tonic please."

Willie grinned like he'd just received an early Christmas present and Jamie understood the feeling.

"Sassenach, what would ye like to drink?" 

Before Claire could reply, Hugh, one of the lads in his shinty team, tapped her on the shoulder. "It's ye against me now, lass."

Claire swung around and looked at the cue stick being handed to her, and her eyes lit. Turning back to Jamie, she grinned. "This won't take long, but I'll have a single malt, neat, please." Then she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. "This is for good luck."

He froze. It was an innocent kiss, but it packed quite a punch.

"Oh ...and yeah, it's a belated thank you again for breaking my fall," she quickly added, suddenly, appearing unsure like she doubted the gesture.

A slow grin roused to form on his lips. "Ye can thank me by going out with me ...tonight," he said, without thinking.

She blinked.

"I'd like to show ye something."

Her brows wrinkled as she studied his face.

"I'd really like to get to know ye better and take ye out," he said. "Please allow me." If she said no, he was quite certain he was going to beg.

"Alright."

He smiled as relief surged through him. "I'll wait for you until ye finish yer game," he said. "We'll leave after we've had a drink with my brother and yer friend."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere Christmassy."

She gave him a wary look, and he laughed. 

"Listen." He leaned in close. "I'll get yer friend to take a picture of my driving licence if that will make ye feel better."

He was about to pull out his wallet to retrieve it when she stopped him with a wave of a hand. "I trust you."

"That's a good start."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Slowly backing away from him, she smiled. "Let me play this one game first, and then I'll be with you."

With his heart in his throat, he watched her progress as she walked towards the pool table and swapped a few quick words with her opponent, who seemed to be humouring her. After the lively exchange, Claire pulled up the sleeves of her sweater to her elbow and rubbed her hands together. Before she began chalking the cuestick, she gave him a wink. That mere display made the muscles in his belly clench, literally whooshing the breath out of him. 

A slap on his back tore his gaze away from Claire. "Easy now lad," Willie said in a low, amused voice. "Ye look like ye could use the same drink as her."

Jamie glanced back at the subject of their conversation. "Aye, but make mine a double," he whispered.

"On it," Willie replied, laughing as he walked off.

What the bloody hell? He should be withdrawing himself away from this attraction because this mad instant bond between them was like an overloaded electrical fuse, capable of incinerating him alive. He'd already learnt his lesson from his last relationship. He'd been there and done that, but yet he didn't have the will to stop himself from finding out how their connection would play out.

Oh, Christ, this is bad. So, so bad, I'm in so much big trouble. Taking a huge sigh, he found himself a stool nearest to the pool table and watched Claire steal the show from the best snooker player in Broch Mordha.

[amoveablejake]

My Five Key Songs of June 2021

I know, I can’t believe we’re here either

I know that I say something along these lines every month but this round up of the past month’s music has really taken me by surprise. Particularly because as I write this I’ve realised we’re at the halfway point for the year and as a result my key songs of the year playlist. Man oh man, that seems to have added an extra element to today’s choices so what are we doing waiting around, lets get right into it. 

First up, ‘World in Motion’ by New Order 

Okay. I know that ‘World in Motion’ has featured before in my January songs of the month and it gets mentioned nearly every other week in some piece or another but for once it actually has a valid reason for appearing here. ‘World in Motion’ was originally released as a song for the England team for the Euros and so its appearance here is a fitting one for we are currently in the early stages of the knockout rounds of Euro 2020 which thankfully England are in, well, for now. But we won’t get into Tuesday’s match against Germany now, no, for now we will focus on what is not only the best England football song (okay there isn’t too much competition there) but also a fantastic song in its own right. ‘World in Motion’ always makes me think of the summer and it never fails to make me smile. And yes, it is tied to the England national team at major tournaments so really it should be reminding me of feeling fed up but instead it makes me think of driving with my Dad talking about the England team when I was little and dreaming that maybe, just maybe this might be England’s year. 

Our second song of the month, ‘Yes Sir, I Can Boogie’ 

Chances are you know this song from a wonderful Cadbury’s advert from a few years ago. Or maybe you even know it from disco days of days gone by. For me, this song was brought to my attention by an episode of the quite honestly fantastic podcast Giant where the team had a special about Scotland qualifying for the Euros. Why was this song featured? Well, it seems ‘Yes Sir, I Can Boogie’ has become the Scotland national team’s anthem. Sadly, it didn’t get a run out at the tournament as Scotland fell out at the group stage but this track is far too good to be tied to only one event. ‘Yes Sir, I Can Boogie’ is one of those songs where you may start to listen to it perhaps ironically or rather not in a serious way but before you know it it has become the song in your head and one that you know will be accompanying you on your upcoming adventures in, oh I don’t know, Norway perhaps. 

The third track for June, ‘Head Over Heels/Broken’ by Tears for Fears

When it gets to the time of the month to choose my key songs I’m sometimes unsure how exactly I want to show the past few weeks. I always have some tracks which are immediately on the list but then I have a couple others where it could go either way. Do I choose the song that I prefer or the one that provides the better reflection of the past month. Today, I’ve gone for the latter and thats why Tears for Fears have appeared. Following a rewatch of the seminal ‘Donnie Darko’ a few weeks ago, ‘Head Over Heels/Broken’ had a delayed launch into my headphones but then after it surfaced again this past week for a few days it was nearly all I was listening to. Have I gotten a little tired of it now? You bet. Tears for Fears aren’t one of my preferred bands although they do have a couple of hits that make me feel nostalgic for a John Hughes vision of the 80s that I have no right to feel nostalgic for. ‘Head Over Heels/Broken’ fits this bill exactly and its use in ‘Donnie Darko’ is one of many perfect song choices if not the most fitting. I think more than anything its the opening launch into the song that gets me going and whilst its not a song that will make it onto any of my favourite song lists it has earned its place on this list for June. 

The fourth key song of the month, ‘Happiness Is’ by Vince Guaraldi trio 

It won’t come as any surprise now, or at least it shouldn’t do to see Vince Guaraldi feature somewhere in this piece. The masterful jazz musician’s flawless work scoring the Peanuts’ specials are always on my mind and his music is always filling my ears. I have spoken about ‘Happiness Is’ before but I will do so again because this song truly deserves all of the praise it can get. ‘Happiness Is’ is one of my go to tracks to put on in the evening to unwind and to prepare me for bed. Its a gentle track that wraps me up in its warm tones and sends me off to relax. This song, as with ‘Christmas Time is Here (Instrumental), is so integral to my vision and feelings of hygge that I couldn’t imagine not listening to it nearly everyday. If you haven’t given Vince Guaraldi’s work a try yet then I can’t encourage you enough to change that now. ‘Happiness Is’ is taken from the ‘A Boy Named Charlie Brown’ album and oh boy, what an album it is. 

And here we are, the song of the month, ‘Forever’ by The Beach Boys 

Following on from last week’s album of the week piece, ‘Forever’ is the song of the month for June and will find itself on the end of the year playlist full of the twelve key songs for 2021. I wrote last Monday that the ‘Sunflower’ album that ‘Forever’ is taken from feels very much like a summer album but that isn’t why I’ve singled ‘Forever’ out here. No, ‘Forever’ is one of the Californian band’s most beautiful and romantic songs and is a prime example of The Beach Boys being rather good love song writers. In my eyes ‘Forever’ is such a wonderful song that really it should be on ‘Pet Sounds’. And I know that may not mean anything here but keen readers will known that ‘Pet Sounds’ is perhaps my favourite album and the one that I hold in the highest regard and while I do absolutely adore ‘Sunflower’, ‘Forever’ would slide into ‘Pet Sounds’ quite nicely. ‘Forever’ is one of those songs that will make you stop what you’re doing and gaze off into the distance. I have been listening to it as I write this and so I can assure you its been quite the challenge to get this done. 

So there we have it, the five key songs of June 2021 with ‘Forever’ earning the top spot. As I look at this list it is definitely the clear front runner but that may change if England make it past Germany and maybe, just maybe, do the impossible. If they do then ‘World in Motion’ may be the key song of the month for every month from July onwards. Don’t worry. It won’t happen. *Sigh* It had to be Germany didn’t it. 

-Jake, a man forever lost in Beach Boy scored dreams, 27/06/2021 

[carewyncromwell]

You have yourself a big fan of Orion/Carewyn. I was wondering if you have any headcanons for them yet?

-rosievixen

^.^ Yatta! Another passenger on the HMS Carion! Hahaha.

I’m still developing stuff, but here are a few things I’ve come up with --

Orion’s feelings for Carewyn really started “going off-balance” for him when she got hurt in the Quidditch Final, but he first realized that Carewyn could be someone he could fall in love with when he saw her Patronus. Orion learned how to cast Expecto Patronum earlier that year, and he was so stunned to see someone else with an Abraxan Winged Horse Patronus. He knew, however, that he was about to start on a path toward his future as a Quidditch player and that Carewyn herself was on a path centered around the Vaults, so he kept his thoughts to himself, telling himself that if they were truly meant to be, like the Patronus superstition dictates, they’d find a way back to each other someday. In the subsequent years they were apart, Orion often scolded himself for his cowardice.

Carewyn was always very fond of Orion, but she didn’t really acknowledge to herself how much the love she felt had become something deeply romantic until they were adults. Looking back, she realized that most people probably wouldn’t throw themselves in front of a Bludger just to make sure someone else’s dream came true.

Once Orion graduated, he and Carewyn exchanged letters somewhat infrequently, since Orion’s schedule as a Quidditch player is so erratic. Orion didn’t see Carewyn in person again until the Second Wizarding War.

In the years between their meetings, Orion had several romantic partners, but none of them lasted very long. The longest was with a young woman named Delilah Flint, the mother of Orion’s daughter, Eos Amari. Delilah gave birth to Eos right after the revelation of Voldemort’s return in 1996, and she not only was deeply afraid of Voldemort due to her family’s history with the Death Eaters, but she also suffered from severe post-partum depression after giving birth to Eos. To top it all off, Delilah was in such severe financial trouble that she soon would have no choice but to go to her family for help, who would not be all right with her having had a child of mixed ancestry out of wedlock. All of this weighed on Delilah enough that she was ready to give Eos up to an orphanage, which of course Orion couldn’t bear the thought of. Although he tried everything he could to try to convince Delilah to reconsider, even going so far as to propose marriage to Delilah so as to keep both her and Eos in his life, Delilah rejected all of his attempts, practically dropping six-month-old Eos in Orion’s lap and leaving for her family’s house that very night, never to return. When the Ministry fell, Orion had to go into hiding (a bit difficult with an infant in tow) -- fortunately thanks to fellow members of the Quidditch League like Andre Egwu, Oliver Wood, Skye Parkin, and Erika Rath, Orion was able to escape the Death Eaters when they swept over the League looking for people with “questionable” magical ancestry. One of those Death Eaters sent after Orion was Night Rhea @nightrhea-hphm, who had played alongside him on the Slytherin Quidditch team once upon a time -- no one knew until well afterward that secret-double-agent!Night had actually gone a bit over-the-top in her burning of the Quidditch League’s headquarters so as to give more fugitives like Orion the chance to escape.

Orion and Carewyn end up colliding during the Second Wizarding War when Carewyn and her friend and coworker Angelo Lancaster @angellazull were enlisted in helping smuggle several prisoners out of Ministry custody, including Orion. One of the very first things Carewyn and Orion said to each other was “You cut your hair.” “So did you.” (I see Orion taking on the “long hair with an undercut” look and wearing a short ponytail so as to keep the hair off his neck while he’s competing in Quidditch matches. Carewyn of course wears her hair shorter as an adult.)

The two reconnect further after the War while Orion tries to build a new home for himself and Eos. Carewyn, being a lawyer, helps him sort out the paperwork designating Orion as Eos’s legal guardian since he hadn’t been married to Delilah when she first gave birth to Eos.

Orion finds a wry amusement in how his daughter and Carewyn’s “son” have the same initials -- Eos Amari and Erik Apollo -- and both have names evocative of Greek Gods.

Carewyn is more amused by the fact that one of Orion’s primary lullabies for Eos is “Walking in the Air” -- the same song she sang for him after the Final match against Ravenclaw.

Orion loves listening to Carewyn rattle on about her court cases. He gets great entertainment out of the “Fire Crab” level of fire she expresses. Despite his amusement when she’s informally discussing the cases, however, he’s also always totally proud beyond belief when she wins one of those cases, even if he doesn’t explicitly say so.

What Orion loves more, though, is whenever Carewyn sings. One of the only times Orion’s ever cried happy tears (or even cried, period) in his life is when Carewyn first sings a lullaby to put fussy toddler Eos to sleep one night.

Carewyn loves watching Orion fly with the Montrose Magpies. She usually doesn’t tell Orion if she’s coming ahead of time so that when she rushes to greet him after the match, it’s a nice surprise. The first time she did this, Orion was so overwhelmed and happy that he couldn’t stop himself from pushing past all of the reporters to get to her. When she threw her arms around him in a hug, Orion -- not used to receiving or even expressing a lot of physical affection, thanks to his childhood -- kind of froze up like a startled cat, before mirroring her and holding her back. He then didn’t let go of her for a solid ten minutes.

Expect moonlit broom ride dates for these two. Carewyn’s a little out of practice on a broom given how much of a workaholic she is, and she loves taking the opportunity to fly side by side with Orion again.

After finding out Orion was vegetarian, Carewyn goes out of her way to learn a good amount of vegetarian-friendly recipes for whenever Orion comes over to visit. (She gets some good advice from friend Wendy Gordon @drinkyoursoupbitch while doing research.)

Even though Carewyn is the Mama Bear and frequently reminds Orion to assert himself more and meet important deadlines, Orion “Papa Bears” Carewyn just as much by encouraging her to sleep more and trying to ween her off of caffeine.

When Orion’s around, you’ll often see the two of them drinking tea together instead of coffee (which Carewyn drinks a lot at work) or white wine (which Carewyn indulges in at parties). Orion’s favorite is lavender tea -- Carewyn prefers a nice Earl Gray. 

When Orion uses his own Abraxan Winged Horse Patronus in front of Carewyn for the first time, it’s right around the time that both of them have realized the depth of their feelings for each other but have yet to actually verbalize it. Needless to say, Carewyn can’t stop herself from crying at the sight of it.

Although Orion frequently says Carewyn’s inner fire rivals that of a Fire Crab, he still most frequently compares her to an Abraxan. His pet name for her ends up being “his Abraxan.” Carewyn will dip into the usual things like “dear” and “love,” but when she’s feeling particularly affectionate, she’ll call Orion “starlight.”

Orion most frequently compares his daughter Eos to a Mooncalf because of her big, cutesy eyes. He most frequently compares Carewyn’s ward Erik to a Jarvey because of his snarky attitude and overzealous swearing. 

Orion/Carewyn would be a deeply romantic legal partnership more than a domestic partnership or marriage. Despite being partners under the law for legal reasons like child guardianship and healthcare, they’d each have their own flat -- Carewyn’s in London, England near her job at the Ministry and Orion’s in Montrose, Scotland, the hometown of his Quidditch team -- and their own routine apart from each other. They frequently will Floo over to their respective partner’s place for a meal or to stay the weekend and they’re very affectionate with each other, but the two never really create a traditional “nuclear family” with Carewyn as Eos’s stepmother or Orion as a second legal guardian for Erik. Despite this, Eos does see Carewyn as a mother figure and Erik does have a lot of respect for Orion however much he snarks his face off.

[wolfhertz]

30 Questions Quiz!!!

I think this is the first time I’ve ever done something like this, but I was tagged by @katninjagirl97​ and it looks like fun. Why not?

Name: Jillian...or Jill...or really anything of that variation. Hell, I’ll even answer to “hey you”. Though online I mostly go by “Wolf” or “Wolfheart”.

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Virgo

Height: Like...5′2, 5′3. I did not inherit the gift of height like my siblings did.

Time: 2:50 am

Birthday: September 18th

Favorite Bands: Gosh that’s a hard question to answer....Does Broadway count? Most of my music is from musicals, movies, video games, etc. not gonna lie. If not, The Crane Wives are a recent find of mine that I absolutely love. Same with Hidden Citizens (very good for that intense, cinematic music).

Favorite Solo Artists: Tommee Profitt (also that sort of intense, cinematic, movie trailer-esque music, though a bit more orchestral) also, Karliene (she sings a lot of folk music and things like that. Definitely recommend looking her stuff up on Youtube 10/10).

Song Stuck In My Head: “Running with the Wolves” by AURORA (specifically the version from Wolfwalkers, which I haven’t watched yet but REALLY want to) It’s been in my head since I found it a few weeks ago, I swear.

Last Movie: Hmmm...I mean...I’m watching Troy (2004) as I write this for my Greek History class. Not finished yet tho. It’s kinda meh, but it’s mandatory.

Last Show: Gosh I haven’t sat down and watched an actual TV show in so long....This is gonna sound nerdy as hell, but my family and I watch Jeopardy during dinner most nights. Does that count???

When Did I Create This Blog: Late 2019, if I’m not mistaken. December or November, I think.

What Do I Post: My own art (which I haven’t done in MONTHS...Art block mixed with school is a deadly combo), other peoples’ lovely art and writing, and pretty much anything I find interesting, important, or funny. I also kinda use it to archive stuff I like in general, like drawing refs and tips.

Last Thing I Googled: “How long did it take to send a letter from Europe to North America in the 1700s?”....I’m a history nerd, this shouldn’t be surprising. The thought just randomly struck me and I was curious. The answer is roughly 2-3 months, if you’re wondering.

Other Blogs: Nah, just this one.

Do I Get Asks: The odd time, but mostly only when I do prompts or art challenges.

Why I Chose This URL: Oh god....It’s the same as my DeviantART, and I created it when I was 11 or 12 during my Warriors phase. Don’t judge me. We all had one and some people still like it and there’s no shame in that. Though I have been thinking of changing it to something slightly different lately. Hmm....

Following: 124. They’re mostly other artists, fashion (both modern & historical), themed art blogs (tutorials, sci-fi, etc.), and just some funny ones (like...I follow one blog that specifically only posts funny medieval manuscript drawings of animals soooo....).

Followers: 283. I don’t know many of you guys, but I appreciate y’all very much!!!! ❤

Average Hours Of Sleep: Can be anywhere between 5 and 9. My sleep schedule is kinda a mess...

Lucky Number: 3 or 4

Instruments: I used to be able to play the flute, but I haven’t in years.

What I’m Wearing: A tank-top and jean shorts...Because you know, that’s a totally reasonable thing to wear in the middle of winter in Canada.

Dream Job: Hmm...Probably anything revolving around history or art. I’d love to teach history tbh, as a teacher or prof. idk yet. I used to want to be a Concept Artist, which is still definitely something I’d be open to!

Dream Trip: I’d love to do a tour of western Europe tbh. Like, England, Ireland, Scotland, etc. See all those old castles and everything. 😍

Favorite Food: Pretty much any seafood. Especially fish or shrimp. Love that stuff. Or any breakfast food really. I love that stuff.

Nationality: Canadian 🍁

Favorite Song: THAT’S EVEN HARDER TO ANSWER THAN THE FIRST MUSIC QUESTION....It changes depending on the day...If I had to say right now??? “Jenny of Oldstones” by Florence + the Machine (I haven’t watched Game of Thrones yet, but I really want to). It gives off good and sad vibes at the same time, idk how.

Last Book I Read: Hmm....I haven’t finished a book in a while, but I’ve been working my way through Assassin’s Creed: Forsaken by Oliver Bowden the past few months. Very good so far! But also very sad. Why do I always get attached to asshole characters with sad backstories that make me wanna cry???

Top Three Fictional Universes I’d Like To Live In: Oooooh....Marvel is definitely one (get me some cool superpowers or magic, ya know?). Hmm....maybe something like Harry Potter (screw J.K Rowling tho, I just want magic powers). Aaaannd...maybe Skyrim? That could be cool!!! Ride around on dragons and shit, become badass warrior or mage, be a werewolf or vampire, so many options!!!

As for someone to tag....oof...Imma be honest I don’t know many people on this site. 😅 Maybe @bayheart​ if she’s feeling up to it since we’ve been chatting lately! No pressure though. 😄 And also anyone who would like to do it!

[independentartistbuzz]

Good News, Good Music 1.0

Here we are at the end of 2020. We don’t need to tell you that this has been a very hard year. We are feeling beaten down by the bad news and music is the one thing that lifted our spirits again and again and saw us through. We have partnered with our friends at Cyber PR Music to bring you a series of GOOD News from artists who carried on making music in spite of all of the insanity that was happening and continues to grip us.  We have cried listening to some of the tracks, felt deeply inspired and yes we laughed as well.  What we have seen is the Cyber PR artist community is rich and varied - there are artists from all across the USA included as well as Jamaica, Australia, South Africa, France, Sweden, The UK,  Germany and Scotland.

So - we bring you part 1 of our 4 part series GOOD NEWS, GOOD MUSIC.

Please Follow the Spotify Playlist below to hear all of these amazing tracks.

Thanks to all of the artists who shared their music AND their good news.

JVMIE & Lionel Cohen | “We Will Rise Again”

Started A Collaboration From A Quarantine Hotel Room and Got Nominated For A Major Award

We had a crazy year but some great things came out of it! I was forced to leave LA and head back to Australia until things ‘calmed down’ but started a remote collaboration with LA based film composer Lionel Cohen - we received a grant from HOTA (Home Of The Arts Gold Coast) to create an album and we were just nominated for a HMMA Hollywood Music In Media Award :) The whole process of collaborating and talking every day was what helped me keep my sanity throughout this crazy year!

Perle Vybz | “Electric Dancefloor”

Almost Lost Her Partner To COVID And Took The Leap Of Faith To Release Music 

My debut single 'Electric Dancefloor' was released on Dec 8th, against the odds. A few months ago , my partner almost lost his life (to COVID). He was hooked up on a ventilator and had a really rough time. At the same time, I lost my main source of income and so, during the pandemic lockdown I had more time on my hands to focus on my music. So I'm glad that in spite of what was happening around me I was able to take that leap of faith and get my music out there.

Arielle Silver | “What Really Matters”

Became Music Connection's Hot 100 Live Unsigned Artists and Bands and Top Prospects 2020 lists in their year-end issue

As COVID shut everything down in April, I leaned into my commitment to authentic connection and inspiring creative expression with the creation of two weekly livestreams: Tomes & Tunes, a weekly show where I interview songwriters about books, and Arielle's Acoustic Happy Hour, both of which are going strong. In June, I released a new album, A THOUSAND TINY TORCHES, along with two official music videos (one shot entirely during quarantine), which have been featured in American Songwriter, Music Connection, and more.And in September, in the wake of closing studios, my sweetheart and I launched a new online yoga studio, Bhavana Flow Yoga, with online classes, workshops, and retail. 

Alongside my own sorrow at the pandemic, I have been living a year of creative expansion, and was recently featured in Music Connection's year-end issue on both their Hot 100 Live Unsigned Artists and Bands and Top Prospects 2020 lists.

Hannah Judson | “Deep Sea Diver”

Launched The Backwards Record Release Concept  And It Worked!

The 2020 lockdown was an exploration of new ways of doing and connecting. Everything became an experiment as new processes were developed to replace the no longer actionable old ones. I launched the Backwards Record Release for "Stingray," a rock/folk collection of songs. The 8 week campaign started with a socially distanced concert in a chateau courtyard, was fueled by my new podcast the Hannah Judson Beat, conversations with women in music, and concluded with a capstone edition of MUSEfest Online, a music festival I normally produce in major cities that promotes women in music, film, art and culture. I stayed connected with colleagues and fans, envisioned future projects, and maintained momentum and enthusiasm for creative projects, present and future. 

Evan Mazunik | “Comfort and Joy”

Funded, Recorded & Released A New Holiday Album

I’m grateful that I was able to successfully fund, record, release, and sell my new holiday album this year.

Eli Lev | “Anywhere We Can Go”

Released A Touching Global Fan Driven Music Video 

I had a powerful experience this year when my music community from all across the world helped me create the music video for 'Anywhere We Can Go.' I was in happy tears editing it and seeing all these wonderful faces come together and make something truly special. Here it is and I hope it brings some joy to folks.

Jeff Oster | “Five Great Mountains”

Found Solace (And Music) In Mother Nature

I was lucky to spend three months in the fall of 2020 up in Vermont. In the midst of all of the turmoil, Mother Nature just kept on shining. I was able to create this video on my iPhone, in an attempt to capture her beauty.

Beca Dreams | “Calm Before the Storm”

Had A Creative Burst That Resulted In Ad Campaigns & New Singles

It’s been a very challenging year, and yet I’ve somehow managed to have some awesome wins I am super grateful for. 

Partnered with Bounty to write/perform Quicker Picker Upper, currently streaming on all major platforms and has gotten over 7M views on Tik Tok and 150K streams on Spotify so far. Composed/performed song for an ad campaign for fashion designer Asher Levine on launching his new groundbreaking LED outerwear line (who’s recently worked with Doja Cat, Lil Nas, Lady Gaga). I also released 2 singles “Calm Before The Storm” and “Taking Time For Myself” and  most recently was featured on “Dance Party In The Living Room” by UK producer Fritz von Runte, about making the most of the quarantine.

I feel so lucky to be making music and doing what I love, which has been a huge silver lining during these dark times.

AfriCali | “The Struggle”

Turned An Eviction Into A Special Retreat & Healing Place 

Our landlord lost her pilates practice and couldn’t afford her Oakland home so

Our family of four with a baby due any month now had to figure it out and find the humanity in moving out before the lease was up. In the magic of mother earth and without knowing we were blessed with a beautiful place to be away and seven thousand feet above the mountains where we could have this beautiful bundle of joy. Which would turn into a special retreat healing place after our departure this past October.

Akira AK | “Pearl”

Completed His New Release Remotely Over Zoom

My "good news, good music" story is simply how I was able to release 2 major projects this year despite everything that is going on: putting out my second EP and my first music video.  The EP in particular had been in the works for 3 years and was SO CLOSE to being done when everything started to shut down, so with the work of my engineer, we set up remote sessions via zoom that helped put the last song over the line and get the release out there! From there I was able to promote it with it's adjacent merch.

As far as my first music video is concerned; I was able to safely show up in person in NYC and film it with the help of a great videographer. The conceptualizing of the video is very special and I think speaks to the experiences some of us have had about going to that special place inside your head where you feel most powerful/comfortable/fierce to deal with whatever is going on externally. The promo for the video was also a success in terms of being able to schedule it on time and put it out there to hype the video itself. And once it was out it was really (unexpectedly) well received!

Those are just my personal success stories and I'm excited to see others' as well!

Monsterboy | “Ain’t Worth the Dime”

Played 60 Livestreams That Reached 7,000 Households

When my husband and I found ourselves without gigs and our small business closed, we decided to go live with our music and stay in touch with our fans. We cobbled together equipment from our home studio and gigging rig, going live in that first week. We really didn't know what to expect. The messages we got from people were so heartwarming, we built a little community for them night after night, reconnecting with existing fans and finding new.  In total, we did over 60 live streams during the shutdown and reached over 7k households on some streams. Entertaining and interacting with people was our way to do our part for our community. A podcast found us via the streams and started hiring us to produce music for their shows from it.

Artist: Crotona P., Producer: Pablo Brownbeats | “Silk”

Forged An International Collaboration South Africa and the USA via A Chance Facebook Meeting

I'm Pablo Brownbeats, a producer  who has been producing  since my youth and creating music for the last 12 years. I just released my new Ep with Crotona P from Rochester New York featuring Street Da Villain, Dj Shawn Touch, KING Flamez all from Rochester New York and SOLO MAJITA from Free State South Africa. The African Ep is available on digital stores and Bandcamp.  I enjoyed making this project and it will be an honor to share the leading single Titled Silk.

This project was recorded during the  early days of Covid19. Me and Crotona met over Facebook and exchanged some few words and he agreed to do the single (silk) then African EP was born.

Scott Whitfield | “A Bi-Coastal Christmas, Vol. 1, by Scott Whitfield & Friends”

Released A Christmas Album That Features Artists Who Have Passed That Started Recording in 2004.

Despite the challenges, I was able to release a Christmas album on Bandcamp!  It's available as a digital download OR a physical CD.  This is the culmination of MANY years of work (some tracks date back to 2004, and, sadly, a few of the artists who played on them are no longer with us).

John Maksym | “Drinkin’ & Thinkin’”

Worked With 22 Collaborators Spanning 7 Countries and 16 Cities

I kicked off this year as a solo recording artist for the first time in my life and had an ambitious goal of releasing music every 5 weeks. When the pandemic struck, I had just started recording my 4th single in the studio and everything got shut down. Within a couple of weeks I was able to pivot and invest money into building my own little home studio, to continue to create. With every musician in the world stuck at home, I was able to connect with a dream team of collaborators who helped me finish the song that I had started and go on to record 8 more songs through remote session recording from their own home studios. All in all I worked with 22 collaborators, spanning 7 countries and 16 cities, which I would never have thought of doing had the world not been in lockdown. It also allowed me time to revise my original release plan and build a more robust plan to release a number of singles and eventually an album throughout 2021.

Stay tuned ...There’s more Good News Coming!

[artificialqueens]

Makes Me Wonder (Biadore)- Ortega

a/n: hey hey! happy holidays. i thought i’d write a lil somethin to get me back into the swing of writing since i’ve had a couple months off. it’s an idea i’ve had running around my head for a good good while, at least a year, and now it’s finally down so pls let me know what you think! this is set within the Just the Game We’re In universe but can absolutely be read standalone. title from the song of the same name by Ella Mai which really sums up what this fic is all about (issa vibe). is it too early for a new years’ eve fic? have it anyway, ya filthy animals xo

summary: Adore is a civil service comms girl in a government department who’s meant to be out with her friends. Bianca is the director of communications for the entire country’s government about twenty ranks above her who has no plans for the night other than getting the Prime Minister out of trouble. Tonight, they’re two women sharing a bottle of prosecco in an office high above the city on the last night of the year.

***

It’s eleven at night, and the glass frontage of the offices makes all the darkness flood in. Too high for the reach of the streetlamps, Bianca can see the tiny twinkly lights of the city below in the distance. From the position of the building most of London’s landmarks are hidden from view: the Eye, St Paul’s Cathedral, she knows that the Houses of Parliament are on the other side of the building, not that she’d want to see them. Bianca doesn’t mind. She became disillusioned with London in 2008, when she was presented with her third Prime Minister that didn’t have a clue what he was doing and it slowly dawned on her that maybe all you needed to get ahead in politics was a dick and a Ted Baker suit. Or to be a dick in a Ted Baker suit.

And now here she is running after yet another enormous man-child, pre-emptively doing a mop-up job that she knows she will be tasked with when government returns in the New Year. She knows that a supposedly off-the-record journalist ambushed him at a New Years’ Eve party about an hour ago, asked him something about immigration figures that if he didn’t know sober he’d know even less after six sherries, so Bianca knows that all the papers will be primed to really go in on that subject next time they have a chance. She needs a file, she knows exactly the one- a huge blue lever arch with all the figures needed to sound like the government expert on immigration. It would’ve helped if the actual government expert on immigration was in the country, but the Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship (or DoSac, as those in Westminster called it) Sharon Needles is still in Spain with her family and her wife, coincidentally the second government expert on immigration by proxy. Bianca shakes her head derisively as she makes her way to the lightswitch. What the hell is Sharon thinking, swanning off on holiday at a time like this? Alaska’s no better, she knows there’s going to be an election in Scotland in six months’ time and whether they give a shit or not they still have to make the party seem likeable down in London and that’s her job as an MP. Bianca had heard it all from Sharon, “it’s Christmas for Christ’s sake Bianca, I’m not asking for a week in Amsterdam during a reshuffle”, and she likes the fucking woman so she’d let her, but one of her parting comments still stings, “I don’t think you got enough cuddles as a child”. Bianca had wanted to snap at her that her childhood had been fine, it was her adulthood she needed to worry about. She brings her thumb up to her palm and touches the bottom of the fourth finger on her left hand self-consciously. It’s been…God, twelve years now. There can’t still be a dent. Perhaps Bianca is imagining it.

Bianca imagines a lot of things.

Blinking as if to hit refresh on her mind, she flicks the lightswitch and is surprised when she hears a thud and an “owch” come from underneath one of the desks in the department. Narrowing her eyes, she casts a glance over the huge room. There are Willam and Courtney’s desks, both with photos of them at Sharon and Alaska’s wedding on each. Blair’s is chaotically tidy, piles and piles of documents that Bianca knows all have their place. Violet’s and Jinkx’s, both neat and orderly, and then Bianca’s gaze sweeps quickly over Trixie and Katya’s desks to come to rest on a huge pair of hazel eyes blinking at her with wide-eyed surprise. Bianca is disarmed, only able to blink back at her in a way she hopes is intimidating and not intimidated.

“Bianca!” Adore gasps, sounding shocked as she rises from behind her desk. This reveals a black sparkly lace and velvet dress with beads and sequins threaded all over it, so much so that it looks as if Adore is dressed in the night sky. Bianca elects not to speak, scared in case she tries and nothing comes out. She maintains her stare instead. Adore’s red lips, set in an O of surprise, start to move. “Fuck, I’m sorry…I was out in my heels and never had flats with me and I knew I had my work boots under my desk so I just got an uber here and the place was still open and, uh…yeah. Sorry for saying fuck.”

Bianca cracks a small smile as Adore scrunches her straight dark hair in her hands at the scalp, an embarrassed smile on her own face which turns into an awkward bite of her lip. She’s beautiful. Bianca’s always thought so, in the same way she can admire a bouquet of flowers or a sunset or a member of the opposition getting absolutely annihilated in a debate. Adore is beautiful, and that’s just a fact. Nothing more. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Bianca sometimes wonders, though.

“Uh, how come you’re here? Busiest woman in Westminster, you don’t have, like…some sort of New Years’ Eve party with the Prime Minister and all the cabinet and…stuff?” Adore concludes  sheepishly, scuffing her foot across the floor in a way Bianca wishes she didn’t find so charming. For her part, Bianca narrows her eyes.

“For your information, I’m trying to find a file,” she rolls her eyes, walking past the comms girl and trying not to inhale too much of the perfume she’s wearing that smells all too much of candyfloss and jellybeans. It shouldn’t smell as nice as it does.

“Government secrets. You’re gonna kill someone,” Adore nodded, following Bianca over to the filing cabinet, crossing her arms and resting them on the top.

“You, if I’m lucky,” Bianca keeps up pretences and pretends that Adore is too young, too silly and idiotic to be worthy of her time. It’s a dance they’ve been doing since Adore started as an intern for Darienne Lake back in the day, back when the whole thing had some integrity and Bianca genuinely held more contempt for Adore than a smear of shit on her shoe and Adore presumably thought Bianca’s entire personality was modelled on Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. It’s more than that now though. Bianca knows it, Adore knows it. It’s been more than that for a while. Years, definitely. How many, Bianca doesn’t know. Certainly since Adore had been dating that journalist Laila McQueen who ended up breaking her heart and very nearly brought the department down with all the secrets Adore had inadvertently leaked to her. Since Adore had found love in a new relationship with a girl from the hospital coffee shop, when Adore had been telling the rest of the civil service girls about her and had stopped when she caught sight of Bianca walking in, her excited face faltering only a little. It’s definitely been since Bianca, exhausted and caught off guard by a stressful day that happened to fall on an all too painful date (Bianca touches her ring finger again) allowed her shoulders to slump and a tear to fall from her face in an empty room in the DoSac offices. Adore had entered the glass-fronted office, uttered Bianca’s name gently, crossed the room to face her. She’d wordlessly caught the tear with an impossibly gentle acrylic-nailed finger and it had disappeared from her face as if Adore was a magician. Then she’d left, returning with a cup of hot coffee and a touch of Bianca’s hand and vanishing from the empty office as if she’d never been there.

Bianca wonders if it would’ve been easier if she hadn’t been.

“What’s your plan for tonight, anyway? Westminster’s number one Amy Winehouse tribute act,” Bianca continues, frowning as the lever arch file isn’t in the place it should be. She slams shut one drawer and tries the next one down.

“Number one! Fuck, that’s high praise from you. I’m sure you said Courtney was, like, the number fifteen Kylie Minogue tribute,” Bianca hears the smile in Adore’s voice, internally yells at herself as loud as her mind will allow that this is not, not, not flirting.

“Only because I’m hoping you decide to really commit to the gig and overdose over the holidays and I won’t have to see you eating all the croissants meant for Sharon day after day next year,” Bianca raises her eyebrows at her. Completely nukes any hint of anything playful. But of course Adore bulldozes that idea immediately with a huge snort of laughter and a smile that exposes her beautiful teeth, impossibly white given all the smoking she does.

“Huh. So you do notice me,” she ponders, her voice small and tinged with a dangerous hint of curiosity.

“Hard not to with that hideous vocal fry. Helluhhhh, you’re through to Dosac commmmmms?” Bianca mocks, drawing her voice out and allowing herself a grin at the way Adore’s face lights up in a self-deprecating laugh. Bianca, for a moment, truly believes the whole room gets brighter.  

“I’m out with the girls,” Adore explains on the tail end of a laugh, finally answering her question. “You’re not having much luck with that file.”

“Listen, Wednesday fucking Addams! Enough sass from you, alright? I can still sack you, holidays or no holidays,” Bianca snaps, not meaning a single word of it. She can practically hear the smug smile of disbelief on Adore’s face. She looks up and sure enough, there it is. “What the fuck’s that look for? You look like the cat that got the cream then ate the shit.”

Adore shrugs lightly. “I just don’t think you’d ever sack me, that’s all. You’re too nice.”

Bianca is knocked for six by the compliment. For a moment, forgets how to react. She straightens up and tries the shelves for the file. “You’ve seen me fire about ten people since you started working here, you’re clearly an idiot with a horrendous judge of character or you’ve got early-onset dementia.”

Adore laughs. “I think I’m both. Although you’re in the dementia pit with me, sister.”

“How fucking dare you, I’m forty two. I’m reporting you for ageism,” Bianca snarls at her, but they both know she doesn’t mean it. Adore shrugs, stretching out against the wall.

“All I’m saying is, I think you’re forgetting I’m one of the only people in the country who’s ever got a Bianca Del Rio apology.”

Bianca shakes her head, tries to ignore how good her name sounds in Adore’s mouth. She remembers that day, remembers it well- absolutely ripping through Adore because she made a mistake and watching her tear up, spending the day being eaten up with regret and then sheepishly going to say sorry at the end of it all, watching her bashful expression become mirrored on Adore’s face as the girl had told her not to worry about it and that these things happen. Bianca looks again at Adore, the playful and lighthearted expression on her face now one of trepidation. Bianca knows what she’s thinking, and she’s wondering if she’s taken the whole thing too far. So Bianca does the only thing she can do at this point in the conversation and turns danger to derision.

“How’s being out with the girls working out for you?”

Adore puffs out a load of air, twirls an end of her long hair around her finger. “Not too well because there’s an old woman with alzheimer’s that I have to look after who’s wandering around the office muttering obscenities at me and searching for a piece of very important government information.”

Adore notes Bianca’s unamused expression and hollers out a laugh, Bianca unable to hold hers in any longer either. Smiling, Adore continues. “At least, that’s what I’ll tell the girls when they ask me why I’m late.”

Bianca sighs, shakes her head in disbelief. “Adore, I’m not going to shout at you if you want to leave. You got what you came here for, so-”

“Oh, I mean, yeah, of course. But winding up my boss’ boss is just as fun, actually is more fun, than sitting in a crowded pub with my friends yelling in my ear because the twelve men out on their Christmas piss-up are singing Fairytale of New York loud enough that their lungs are gonna pop, so…” Adore trailed off, punctuating her sentence with a shrug. She pauses a second. “Hey, what does that file look like?”

“It’s lever arch…blue, really full, probably has bits of paper sticking out of it…Christ, this is the most boring conversation I’ve ever had,” Bianca rubs her face with her hands and forgets there’s makeup on it. Adore laughs, scans the room, then immediately marches over to Courtney’s desk, moves some paper aside and returns with exactly what Bianca had described. Bianca, for her part, is stunned.

“How in the hell did you-”

“Sometimes sitting doing fuck all all day has its uses. Court took the file to update online Census data before she went off for her holidays, tried to get ahead on her work for coming back. I remember ‘cuz she asked me for a cup of tea to get her through it,” Adore smiles, her brazen confidence hidden under a shy smile. Bianca takes it from her and thanks her, regret tingeing her voice as she realises this leaves neither of them with an excuse to be in each others’ company any more.

“You know,” Adore drops into conversation nonchalantly, just as Bianca is about to cut her losses and say goodbye. “If I leave now I probably won’t get an Uber in time for the countdown, and if I do the girls’ll have probably moved on, and, like, the city’s gonna be mobbed…and, uh, there’s a bottle of prosecco that Trixie won in the raffle that she put in the fridge and never took home. So, like, if you want, we could just, uh…have, like, a…”

Bianca tries so, so hard to ignore the way her heart is soaring like a helium balloon. “See in the New Year with a bottle of fizz and a better view of London than half the city’s going to get?” Don’t sound too enthusiastic. “Well, looks like I’ve not got much better to do.”

Bianca doesn’t miss the triumphant smile Adore shoots her way as she dashes off to the tiny office kitchen to grab the promised alcohol. Left to awkwardly shuffle her feet, Bianca decides to cross the office and open the door to the meeting room. The city lights immediately flood her vision as she perches gingerly on the desk in the middle of the room, foregoing the uncomfortable office chairs. As she sits and waits, her mind races in time with her heart. It’s not a big deal, stop reading too much into it. It’s a New Years’ Eve drink with a coworker, people do that all the time at this time of year. Except Bianca knows it’s different, because Adore is not her coworker. She’s her inferior in every way- wage, status, power, everything probably except kindness of heart and beauty. Don’t think about Adore’s beauty.

All of a sudden the office goes dark, as dark as it can with the bright lights and the big city underneath it, and Adore softly pads into the room a few seconds later with two mugs, a bottle, and an excitable grin on her face. “Okay, now it’s actually like we’re in a London Eye pod. Don’t you think?”

“I think the London Eye has proper champagne flutes,” Bianca quips witheringly, hoping it disguises the fact that her heart is beating nearly out of her chest because it’s dark, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and it’s magical, and for now they’re two women drinking prosecco together with no prior agenda or obstacles.

Adore holds out one mug to Bianca. It says “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my second morning coffee!” and for a moment Bianca wants to burst into hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. She doesn’t. Instead she smiles slightly as Adore pours the fizz into the mug with all the skill of a toddler, watches as the bubbles climb up to the rim of the porcelain until Bianca has to jump in and inhale them away.

“Wish!” Adore beams excitedly, and Bianca, hunched over the mug, launches her a quizzical look. Adore is patient with her. “You caught the bubbles. Now you make a wish.”

Bianca briefly rolls her eyes, but obediently she squeezes her eyes shut. Wishes for something wildly illogical and fanciful because it wouldn’t be a wish if it wasn’t. Bianca can set goals and achieve them, she’s been doing it all her life. Wishing for something she could easily make come true on her own is a waste of a wish. When she opens her eyes she finds Adore grinning at her moronically.

“What did you wish for?”

Bianca sips a bit more of the bubbles, as if to strengthen the wish. “If I told you that it wouldn’t come true, would it? Is that not how wishes work? Or did they change the contract?”

Adore raises her eyebrows at the woman long-sufferingly, pouring enough prosecco into her own glass that the bubbles spill over and land on her sparkly dress, a splash more constellations added to the night sky. She sips at the popping and fizzing froth on the top of the mug, locks her eyes with Bianca. “I guess we’ll need to wait before we get an answer to that, won’t we?”

Bianca coughs, fixes her eyes on a particularly glittery set of buildings in the distance. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from them as she speaks again. “Where’s, uh. Are you not meant to be with your girlfriend tonight or something?”

“You’re pretty fuckin’ out of the loop. Me ‘n Aja’ve been done since before Christmas,” Adore replies, her voice light but her tone dead, and Bianca wants to leap from the building.

“Fuck, sorry. I never knew.”

She hears a snort from beside her. Adore’s looking at the table and smiling. “Shit. Now I got two sorrys from Bianca Del Rio, fuck knows what I’ll do with all of those. Open a shop?”

Bianca humours her and laughs back in lieu of making a silly quip, she’s loath to make things worse than she already has. Adore looks back out of the window and Bianca looks at her, the view better than anything behind that pane of glass.

“We didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Either of us,” Adore continues. The city lights are reflected in her eyes, dark and beautiful and capable of making Bianca say things she might regret. “Suddenly it got to two years and we both, like…died laughing at the thought of being ready to settle down any time soon. She’d kissed other girls. I’d slept with somebody else. Just to…fuck, I don’t know. Like, I wondered if I was actually in love, wondered what it was all meant to feel like. Wondered if I’d feel anything before, during, after.”

Bianca is taking this all in her stride despite the fact her mind is moving about the same rate as Adore’s lips and with each new revelation there is something new to get her head around. She somehow coughs up a question. “And did you?”

Adore laughs completely humourlessly. It doesn’t suit her. “Good question, girl. I’ll come back to you when I have an answer that makes any fuckin’ sense to you. Right now I don’t even have one that makes sense to me.”

Bianca crosses her legs and is deep in thought. She doesn’t know if she ever had Adore pinned as the type to cheat on a girlfriend, then immediately thinks she is silly to consider such an action as being attributed to a type of person. You can never really ever know a human, and with each new day someone can surprise you with the mundane or underwhelm with a revelation. Still, she reminds herself, she thought she’d known…

Never mind.

Point is, nothing shocks or fazes her any more. She considers herself an expert in human nature simply by following one simple rule; never assume.

“You probably think I’m an awful fuckin’ person now.”

Bianca turns and looks at Adore as if the eye contact will answer her question without having to say anything. This already doesn’t seem sufficient to either her or Adore, so Bianca follows it up anyway. “You honestly might as well do whatever the fuck you want in life, Adore. Half the world’s out there doing that already and not giving a single shit about the consequences.”

Adore narrows her eyes at her, quirks a smile that doesn’t quite meet her lips. “That’s a very…world weary answer.”  

“I’m a very world weary woman,” Bianca sips her prosecco. It tastes absolutely fucking horrible out of a mug. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her, as Adore seems to shift closer to her until she is right bang next to her sitting on top of the table. There is no space between them- no hands, no cups, no air, and the sheer possibility and risk of it all makes Bianca shiver.

“I think you’re a very complex woman,” Adore murmurs delicately. Bianca doesn’t dare meet her eyes, instead electing to look down at where the hem of Adore’s dress meets her black tights with a small ladder. “I would kill to read some form of, like…autobiography.”

Bianca laughs, reaches out and starts fiddling with a small sequin on Adore’s dress in spite of herself. “It would be a very fucking short autobiography. I was born, I grew up, I got this job, I died. The end. Four pages at most. Five including a contents page.”

“There’s more to you than that.”

“No there isn’t.”

Bianca feels Adore tense up beside her, is frightened into dropping the hem of her dress and to stop picking at the stitching. She’s an idiot who went too far and got caught up in the night and has probably ruined the poor girl’s dress. Adore speaks. “People’ve told me that you used to wear a wedding ring, and now you don’t.”

Now it’s Bianca’s turn to tense up, and she does her best to give Adore a run for her money. Freezes in place so quick it puts her in mind of a childhood game of musical statues. Adore recoils quickly as if she’s been burned; Bianca is a sparkler she’s let linger in her hands for too long. It becomes a game of who will break the silence first. Adore wins. Or loses. Bianca supposes there are no winners in this conversation.

“Bianca, I’m sorry,” she whispers, closes the gap again and touches her hand. She seems to have second thoughts and removes it again, and Bianca wants to curl her fingers around Adore’s and not let go. “Shit, fuck, this was so above my station…I’m so sorry, Bianca, honestly-”

Bianca can feel the woman getting stressed out next to her. She never thought she’d be referring to Adore as a woman, but there’s a first for everything. She looks grown up and confident and self-assured with her dark hair (she got rid of the blonde and Bianca thinks it suits her), her perfect red lipstick, her sophisticated dress. Except now she looks every inch the panicking intern Bianca first knew her as, and she decides to swallow her fears and take Adore’s hand, laces their fingers together like she wanted to earlier.

They’re holding hands. The director of communications for the government of the entire country is holding hands with a comms girl endless fucking pay grades below her, and there is so much wrong but yet so much that just seems correct. It’s two hands linked together. That’s all.

“Like I said,” Bianca smiles sadly at the carpet, deciding that particular story can wait until she’s six feet under. “Half the world’s doing whatever the fuck they want and not giving a shit about the consequences.”

Adore strokes her thumb at the knuckle and Bianca is lost for words, a rare occurrence in her life. “I’m so sorry, Bianca.”

“Well. We’ve both put our foot in it now, so,” Bianca drops their hands, decides it’s probably a good place to end whatever the hell this is. She picks up her mug and tries to ignore the feeling that Adore looks disappointed at the lack of contact. “To being untactful shits incapable of emotional intelligence.”

Adore gives a small laugh, clinks her mug against Bianca’s own. There’s a moment of silence before she speaks.

“I’ve never told anyone about cheating on Aja. Apart from her, obviously.”

“Well now I have some serious dirt on you,” Bianca raises her eyebrows in an attempt to make light of the situation. She is rewarded by a laugh from Adore.

“I guess I did it because…well. There’s like…always been a third person in my relationships. No, fuck, that sounds weird and intense, but…ah, it’s hard to explain,” Adore hisses through her teeth, and Bianca is intrigued. The entire opening hangs heavy in the air, and Bianca doesn’t want to think about the possibilities it holds. She can feel her heart speed up, and she takes a too-big gulp of her prosecco and feels the bubbles shatter like ice down her gullet. Adore is looking at her, she knows, but Bianca holds her gaze on the city. “Do you ever, like, think about how there could be a right person, but the wrong place and wrong time? Wrong universe, even. Like they could be so gorgeous and funny and warm and you just know they’d be great to talk to if you ever got a proper chance, but you’ve never had the chance, and you know you won’t ever get the chance? So you just make peace with it, except, like, you’re never really at peace with it because with every new relationship you get into it’s just taunting you, the what if, the wondering?”

The air is spitting and crackling with electricity. Hot oil on a pan. Bianca shakes her head. “Adore, I haven’t been in a relationship for, literally, years.”

“But you still know the feeling though, don’t you?” Bianca is suddenly electrocuted, thousands of volts running through her as Adore takes her hand and gives Bianca no choice but to turn and face her, the city lights ripped from her eyes as Adore gazes into Bianca’s own, nothing to reflect in them, just black. Bianca’s heart goes from racing to flatlined. Adore doesn’t break eye contact. “Bianca…I know you know the feeling.”

And this is it. It’s out in the open, the tension between them that’s lingered for years like somebody’s taken a knife to a huge helium balloon. Bianca almost wants to laugh. There is no point protesting, or trying to tell Adore she’s got it all wrong. Adore is headstrong, has always been headstrong, and she knows, and she knows that Bianca knows. The situation is funny. They’re Christ knows how many feet up in the air, in the offices in the dead of night on New Year’s Eve. Bianca knows whatever happens this evening that the second she steps out of the building and into the freezing cold air, the magic will be gone. Because that’s what this is- magic. It could only be magic that Adore is making Bianca confront all of this before the entire slate gets wiped clean, the biggest cliche in the book.

“Fuck,” Bianca just laughs, the resigned exhalation of someone who has no energy left to deny it. “You’re literally…you’re just a kid-”

“I’m twenty fucking eight, Bianca,” Adore snaps, as if she’s had that excuse used against her for the entireity of her life and has had enough. Bianca is suitably admonished.

“Right. Sorry. Ignore me, I’m old. Which begs the question…” Bianca realises they haven’t stopped holding hands yet. “Adore….me? Really? Me? Why me?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Adore shrugs. Her matter-of-fact-ness makes Bianca blush as if she’s back in high school. “And there’s, like…always been something about you that’s just drawn me to you. I don’t know. It’s like I said, I think we’d get on if we’d let ourselves get to know each other. I think we’re similar.”

Bianca paused before replying, taking a moment to just look into Adore’s eyes. She sighs heavily.

“There really is nothing about this that is any fucking fair at all.”

Adore laughs, neglecting to break eye contact. “How come?”

“Because there’s absolutely no way that we can pursue any of this. And it’s almost more cruel knowing we both want to,” Bianca snorts sardonically, refills her and Adore’s cups. Adore pouts. She’s showing her age.

“But we could if we wanted to. We could at least try,” she pleads, hope in her voice that makes Bianca want to wrap her up and take her home with her. Bianca laughs. Someone is going to have to be the voice of reason in this conversation.

“Adore, there’s a reason my marriage ended. There’s a reason I’ve not had a relationship for twelve years. There’s a reason I haven’t acted upon any of my feelings towards you,” she says, her voice coated in thick regret. She gives Adore’s hand a squeeze to soften the blow. “This job is my relationship. This job is my marriage. I barely have time for three meals a day- I don’t have time for three meals a day. I mean, fucking look at me. I’m at work on New Years’ Eve.”

“I’m at work on New Years’ Eve,” Adore gestures at herself, as if that simple fact is enough to convince her. Bianca laughs. She is the sweetest fucking person to ever exist, she fully believes that.

“There’s fourteen years separating us. I’m head of government communications, you’re a civil servant. That’s madness. We wouldn’t work.”

“No, probably not. It probably would just all end in tears. But at least we’d know. Which is, like, better than where we are just now, where we don’t know,” Adore shrugs, but the expression on her face lets Bianca know she thinks it’s a lost cause too. Bianca feels sad for her, feels sad for them both. She shuffles closer.

“Look. You know that I like you, and I know that you like me, and at least we don’t have to suspect it any more. We know. And it doesn’t matter that nothing’s going to happen, because…oh, fuck, what’s that saying? The possibility far outweighs the outcome, or some shit like that?”

Adore cracks up laughing. “That phrase doesn’t exist.”

“Yes it fucking- Christ, the point is that this night…” Bianca rubs her head in exhaustion. “…this night is like a microcosm of the universe. You were saying we’re in the wrong universe, well, just for tonight, this office is the right one. Just for now. A weird purgatory.”

Adore smiles, brushes a bit of hair out of her face. “So you’re, what. Confucius now, right?”

“Something like that.”

The chimes of Big Ben cut through the office and fireworks spring to life across the city below. Startled, both women spring away from each other. Bianca watches Adore check her phone. “Oh, shit.”

“We missed the countdown,” Bianca mutters sheepishly, suddenly ashamed of the whole conversation. Adore snorts.

“No, I just have, like, fifty voicemails from the girls,” she shrugs lightly, putting her phone face-down on the desk and facing Bianca once more. She holds out her mug and smiles gently. “Cheers, then.”

“Cheers,” Bianca says quietly, like she doesn’t want the office to hear. She taps the porcelain against Adore’s mug. They are close, their knees touching, and Bianca flicks her gaze up from the mugs to Adore’s eyes.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, before setting her mug down, bringing one hand to rest on Adore’s waist and the other to gently tilt her chin up before closing the gap between them.

If talking to Adore on New Years’ Eve in a dark office with the city lights reflected in her eyes is magic, then kissing Adore is the best kind of witchcraft. It’s a hesitant kiss, the fault of both of them as neither of them really know what they’re doing or what they’ll do once it’s over, so they carry on. Adore has brought a hand up to rest at Bianca’s jaw, her thumb stroking her cheek gently, and Bianca never wants the sensation to stop. She wants to freeze the entire moment in time but she is aware she can’t do that, so focuses on committing it to memory; the way Adore tastes like sparkling prosecco, the scent of her perfume, the way they both seem to just fit together and the whole exciting unfamiliarity of it all.

Just when Bianca seems to be getting used to things she feels Adore tugging away, and she in turn doesn’t resist. She can’t help the disappointed slump of her shoulders as Adore is once again in front of her, bashfully smoothing down her dress. All at once Bianca is swept up in complete fantasy. Maybe she and Adore could work. There might be a way to make it all doable, even if she only gets to take Adore out to dinner once every couple of weeks, something like that. Adore makes the decision for her, putting her empty mug down and standing up from the table, taking Bianca’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Happy New Year, Bianca,” she smiles softly before turning and opening the heavy glass door, managing halfway through it before turning and looking back at her. She wants her to say something, Bianca can tell, and there’s so much she could say. She decides not to ruin things. This night has been enough. It’s a new day- a new year now, and everything is fresh and new, a blanket of freshly fallen snow without any footprints. She decides to smile and give Adore a small wave.

“Happy New Year.”  

The door swings shut, and the magic is over.

[igothedistance-blog]

And again 7 years later...

Facebook Notes… 4 and then 3 years later! So I did one of these facebook trend notes 4 years ago. I thought it would be funny to compare then and now!

Pretty much because I’m bored out of my mind right now.

a-z

March 1, 2009 at 9:31pm VS October 13, 2013 at 11:51pm VS

December 27, 2016 vs. July 2, 2020

A-Z

A - Available: . ..  >  Yep > Yep > Yep > Yep

Age: 16  >  21 > 24 > 28

Annoyance: there are so many things.  >  Pessimism > Underestimation - Animal: my cat and my dog (Tiger and Tobi)  >  Lola the puppy > Lola (4) > Patrick the cat (12)

B - Beer: : /  > umm Mic. Ultra > Stella Artois - Mr. Blue Sky

Birthday: may 18 > same > same - 

Best friend: TM and AAH > TM, AAH, MOT, BR, AW, AB, JB > Same - AAH - Body Part on opposite sex: -  > Eyes > same - > DD, ZE, & the other usual suspects

Best feeling in the world: reaching the top of the mountain > feeling like I’m where I’m supposed to be > being myself with friends and no inhibitions - 

Blind or Deaf: umm… > blind > same - 

Best weather: 40/50 degrees. not too cold. not too hot. > 50s/60s > same - same 

Been in Love:still waiting on that one > been infatuated. (so no) > not yet - nope

Been on stage : frightening but memorable : ) > same > same - Improv Shows 

Believe in Magic: Not particularly > sadly, no > same - nope

Believe in Santa: I did… > for the kiddies! > Yeah looking back, I believed way too long > aww

C - Candy: twizzlers, sour patch watermelon, junior mints >Twizzlers & Sour patch watermelon > same + anything Cadbury and Maltesers - 

Color: purple > purple > powder blue - 

Chocolate/Vanilla: twist > twist > twist - 

Chinese/Mexican Food: quesadillas vs. sweet and sour chicken …? cant choose > STILL CAN’T CHOOSE > still can’t - 

Cake or pie: key lime all the way > yep > yep - 

Continent to visit: Australia > same > same - 

Cheese: feta > same > Parmesan

D - Day or Night: Night > Day > day - 

Dancing in the rain: one of many things i have yet to do > still need to do this! > still haven’t!

E - Eyes: I have the color is debatable. at first glance; brown > I have brown eyes. > they’re truly mostly green, but with brown rims - 

Everyone’s got: ipod > iPhone > iPhone > airpods

F - First thoughts waking up: what time is it? i’m probably late for something > … pretty much the same > how much is today gonna suck? (but not in a depressed way, in an preemptively annoyed kind of way) - 

Food: kiwi > watermelon! > grilled  cheese > same or oberweis oreo shake

G - Greatest Fear: fear > failure > inadequacy - 

Goals: good college > becoming a  wonderful teacher (among about 4 trillion other things) > landing a full time teaching job - Being a better teacher than I am.

Gum: usually something i have with me at all times > Orbit Sweet mint > spearmint whatever - 

Get along with your parents?: … do any teenagers? > Yes > medium > medium

H - Hair Color: red? > Auburn brown > same - w/ touch of blonde on the end

Height: 5'8" > same > same - 

Happy: could be happier > yes > could be happier - same

Holiday: Christmas > same > same > same

How do you want to die: not in any way to do with suffocation. > same > same > same

I - Ice Cream: mint chocolate Chip > B&J Greek Yogurt Raspberry/Chocolate AMAZEBALLS > Hagen Daaz chocolate peanut butter > same

- Instrument: piano > acoustic guitar > my guitar > same

J - Jewelry: rings > ALL THE RINGS > rings > rings

Job: previously Dairy Mat employee > just babysitting for now > Long term teacher substitute > 4th year teacher

K - Kids: most definitely > At least 3 > at least 3 - same 

Kickboxing or karate: Kickboxing > same > same - same

Keep a journal?: only on trips > I TRY to > I try to > I haven’t been trying to. 

L - Love: if only > Not yet. still waitin on that one > still waiting - I may have been in love... but unrequired. 

Letter: G > J > I - what?

 Laughed so hard you cried: Good times : ) > I mean I laugh a Ton.> same > same

M - Milk flavor: Whole > same > 2% - same 

Movies: twilight, HP, He’s Just Not That Into You, The Holiday, Disturbia etc. > The Perks of Being a Wallflower, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Hook > Kings of Summer, super 8 and all the previous ones - same (there are probably ones I could add but I don’t feel like it. 

Motion sickness?: only on large boats… > not really, no > no > no

McD’s or BK: McD’s > McD’s > McD’s > same

N - Number: 12 > 12 OR 7 > same? same?

O - One wish: to be happy > to fall in love and have a great relationship > same > same

P - Perfect Pizza: square cheese and green peppers > BEST > same - same

Pepsi/Coke: Coke (zero) > DIET COKE ONLY > same > same

Q - Quality: high > same > same > same

R - Reason to cry: death, bad day, betrayal, separation > just get it out. let it happen > SAME - same

Reality T.V.: HATE IT! > DOUBLE HATE > LOATHE ENTIRELY - nope nope nope 

Radio Stations: 93.9, 95.5. 96.3 etc. > same > SAME  haven’t listened to radio in a LONG time

 Roll your tongue in a circle: no > no > no - nope

 Ring size: 9 > same > same

S - Song: LOST + Viva La Vida > Think Twice by Eve 6 > All we know by the chainsmokers - Midnight by coldplay 

Shoe size: 10 > same > same - same 

Salad Dressing: Ranch > same > same - greek dressing from greek isles

Sushi: not so much > I’ve learned to accept the california roll > same - I’ve delved into some other ones...

Skinny dipped?: … : P > yes. yes I have. > not since then, though - still haven’t since then

Strawberries/Blueberries: Strawberries > same > blueberries> tbd

T - Tattoos?: probably not > pretty soon, actually! > :) - :) :)

Time for bed: it varies > it varies: usually after 12a > I really need to go to bed earlier - same 

Thunderstorms: love them > LOVE THEM SO MUCH> love love love > same

U - Unpredictable: unfortunately - not really > I’m so predicable. > same > same

V - Vacation spot(s): ideally; Australia. > Australia, Ireland, London > same > I’ve done England, Ireland and Scotland but would totally go back 

W - Weakness: not being able to keep something in > if something is funny, even if its wrong, I cannot keep from laughing > same problems - IDEK

 Which one of your friends acts the most like you: hmmmm idk. we’re more opposite/ complimentary > perhaps Spallison? > I think that’s true but Adriane and I also have a lot in common > Him

- Who makes you laugh the most: TM > I think Adriane > My peeps > Him

- Worst feeling: anticipating the worst; it happens quite often > feeling like I’m alone somehow > being misunderstood and belittled by my family - 

Wanted to be a model: nnnooopppeee > new > no - Nope

Worst Weather?: heavy snow/rain to the point where you cannot see (the roads) > I second that > yes, I agree > good point, me. 

X - X-Rays: not fun. especially when you’re sitting there in pain. > Yeah don’t like those > no bueno > no gracias

Y - Year it is now: 2009 > 2013 > 2016 (but not for much longer) - 2020 and what a #$$&ing year it’s been. 

Yellow: depends on the shade > my current bedroom is actually yellow . but it’s an acceptable shade. > pale yellow I can handle.

Z - Zoo animal: sloth > *self five* same > go us! > agreed!

LAST PERSON WHO… 

1. Slept in a bed beside you;TM > Allison Greene > I can’t remember... Liz 

2. You went to the mall with?; TM > IDR > myself > IDR

3. You went to dinner with? TM and Kail > j'Qwellin and Adriane > Allison Greene > Joe

4. You talked to on the phone? LIZ > Momma > Liz > ASWP customer

5. Made you laugh? Ginny + Lydia > Maggie > Liz > Dylan

6. Hugged you? mi madre > Maggie > Grandma Curcuru > Him

7. Said they loved you? AAH > Sammy > Heather > Mom

8. Held your hand? Sammy > Avery > Anna > Anna

10. You cried over? … : ( > Cory Monteith > Grandpa Curcuru > Me... 

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

Can’t Wait

A/N #1: This is not part of my Celestial Ball series. It is what I like to call a brain fart, which is an idea I know is stupid/silly, but it won’t leave my head until I write it. I could write it and not publish it but as some people might enjoy it, I decided to publish it. I suggest you listen to this song... 

------------------------------

As Alice entered the common room after completing another task her prefect had given her, she saw him standing in the middle of the room, looking around, nostalgic.

"Oh, Alice. I was just looking around the common room. I'm going to miss our little reading nook when I graduate Hogwarts," he said as he saw her entering the common room and walking toward him.

"And all of Ravenclaw will miss you, but... why did you give me all those lessons?" asked Alice, raising an eyebrow.

"You still don't know? Come on. Surely you have an idea what I want you to do," replied Chester, smiling.

"To give me house points?" suggested Alice.

"Good guess, but no. Unfortunately, prefects can take away points from their own house, but not give any. I gave you all those lessons because I want you to become a prefect. I think you'd be incredible. I want you to be prepared when the time comes. I'm going to put in a good word with Dumbledore and Flitwick. I'll tell them you would make an excellent prefect," said Chester, beaming.

"Thanks, but... Me? Like, seriously? The one student who has broken countless rules. The one student who told Dumbledore countless times that she would stop looking for the vaults and then did exactly the opposite? Did you hit your head on something? Dumbledore and Flitwick will laugh you out of the Headmaster's office," said Alice, staring at her prefect.

"You have saved the school many times and gained my house points for your house. I believe in you, Alice. I think you will be an amazing prefect," replied Chester, placing a hand on her shoulder with a caring smile.

"Yeah, Alice. Imagine how great you'll be as a prefect. A prefect who cares more about the welfare of the school instead of one who accuses people of hiding dungbombs in Filch's office," said Tulip, getting up from a nearby couch.

"Karasu, what are you doing here?" said Chester, staring at her suspiciously.

"None of your business," replied Tulip, leaning over Alice's shoulder. "Just imagine. You'll have more freedom to roam the school as you look for the vaults. Also, the power you'll have. Curse-Breaker and prefect? People will be eating out the palm of your hand. You'll be the queen of Hogwarts."

"Queen?" said Alice, her eyes lightening up.

"Don't listen to her," started saying Chester.

"Just imagine..." whispered Tulip in Alice's ear.

"I'm gonna be a mighty queen. So enemies, beware," started singing Alice.

"What? No! Tulip!" exclaimed Chester, glaring at Tulip.

"I've never seen a prefect who broke so many rules," said Talbott, looking up from his book.

"I'm gonna be the main event like no queen was before. I'm brushing up on looking down. I'm working on my ROAR!" kept singing Alice.

"You are aware we are Ravenclaws," replied Talbott, rolling his eyes before returning to his book.

"Oh, I just can't wait to be queen!" sang Alice.

"You've rather a long way to go, Alice. If you think..." started saying Chester as Alice and Tulip stormed out of the common room.

"No one saying, 'Do this,'" sang Alice as she skipped along the corridor with her friend.

"Now when I said that, I―" said Chester, running after the two young Ravenclaws.

"No one saying, 'Be there,'" chimed in Tulip, smiling at Alice.

"What I meant was―" tried saying Chester, still running.

"No one saying, 'Stop that'," sang Alice.

"Look, what you don't realize―" said Chester, finding it hard to keep up with them.

"No one saying, 'See here'," sang Alice and Tulip in unison.

"Now, see here!" exclaimed Chester, leaning against a wall, breathless.

"Free to run around all day," sang Alice, looking back at Chester as he pushed himself off the wall.

"Well, that's definitely out―" said Chester as he started to go after them again.

"Free to do it all my way!"

Alice and Tulip separated into two different corridors, both heading for the grand staircase. As they ran, other students started to follow them, wondering what was going on. As Chester arrived in the stairways, he saw Alice on a staircase opposing his own with some of her friends.

"I think it's time that you and I arranged a heart-to-heart," sang Chester.

"Queens don't need advice from former prefects for a start," replied Alice, showing Chester the palm of her hand, looking away from.

"If this is where this witchcraft school is headed, count me out! Out of service, out of Scotland! I wouldn't hang about! This child is getting wildly out of hand," sang Chester, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Oh, I just can't wait to be queen!" sang Alice, sliding down a ramp before running down the remaining stairs with her friends.

All the students followed Alice and Tulip unto the Clocktower Courtyard, where Alice climbed on the ledge of the fountain.

"Everybody look left. Everybody look right. Everywhere you look I'm... standing in the spotlight," sang Alice, wrapping her arm around one of the fountain's column as she leaned over the students.

"Not yet!" exclaimed Chester.

"Let every student go for broke and sing. Let's hear it at Hogwarts and everywhere. It's gonna be Queen Alice's finest fling!" sang the students in the courtyard.

"Oh, I just can't wait to be queen!" sang Alice, jumping on top of the crowd.

"Oh, I just can't wait to be queen!" Alice crowd-surfed toward Chester.

"Oh, I just can't wait... To be queen!" finished singing Alice, landing in front of her prefect.

As the students started to disperse, returning to what they were doing, Tulip ran toward Alice. She stood next to her as they faced Chester, who was fuming.

"What was that all about?! Being a prefect doesn't give you all the powers in the school. As a prefect, you'll have to become a role model to your fellow Ravenclaws. I hope you remember that when the time comes," said Chester before storming back in the castle.

"Wait, does that mean he still intends to suggest me as a prefect?" asked Alice, staring at the back of the Ravenclaw prefect, eyes wide.

"Seems like it," said Tulip, shrugging.

"I think he needs to go see Madam Pomfrey," said Alice, making Tulip laugh as they walked back inside.

--------------------

A/N #2: I’m such a Disney nerd! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I actually got the idea for that fic not long I had finished the “Farewell My Prefect” side quest. Can you just imagine 13 years old MC being told by the prefect who has always told her to win house points and not lose them, that now he sees her as a future prefect. She’s 13. She’s probably thinking at this point that either something is wrong with her prefect, or that no matter what she does, she’ll get away with it. In her head, “get away with everything” + “prefect” = QUEEN! And while Tulip is not in the side quest, I can just imagine her acting as that little devil on her shoulder doing that equation for her. This story was based on the prompt “Fav Prefect” from @yantarnii 2018 Inktober challenge. 

[deansinkdbitch]

Of the seas and winds

Notes: siren song used is via link to this incredible girl who done a vocal cover of Hans Zimmer's score piece “mermaid” from POT : on stranger tides. Check it out, she’s absolutely haunting to listen to! https://youtu.be/QFo2mpFBIX8

Summary- You meet John Constantine at a local bar in Scotland near the shoreline but not all is as it seems.

Constantine X mer!reader/ fluff and mild violence. Also, its over 5,000 words- I apologise haha! Feel free to give me any feedback/ if you wish me to write more about Velinia and John etc etc etc. :)

--------------------------------

Waves crashed against the Scottish shoreline. Rocks took a mighty beating as the waves became stronger than normal on this brisk night. Only people utterly insane came out on this blustery night in the rain. Of course, there were ALWAYS crazy people out in this typical British weather. As the weather beat down, a tall muscular man stopped dead in his tracks. His dog barked repeatedly but not at him but out towards the sea. The man seemed to get hypnotised by the bearing waves when he could hear a song in his head. “AHH ahhh ahhhh ah...ah ahhh ah...” the melody was simple, and repeated but he couldn’t turn it off. He couldn’t turn away as his feet took charge of his entire being and walked down the stone steps that years of water damage had created. With his feet on a low rock, water crashing over his feet, his jeans soaking the salt water up, he saw her. A maiden with long hair billowing in the harsh winds.

She stared at him with her silvery eyes as her arms crossed her chest combing her fingers through some of her dark hair. “Are you my jolly sailor Bold?” she questioned in a melodic voice. “I can be whatever you want me to be,” he replied smiling, unable to get the song out of his mind. “Just answer me this. Are you the one singing that song?” he questioned. “I am...my sailor. Come... Come closer, I’ll grant you three wishes my jolly sailor.” She practically sang to him, and that’s all it took. He stepped off the rock, arm outstretched to go to her when sea foam lapped at his legs and she leapt towards him with an almighty screech.

With a vicious flip of her golden and silver tail, she grabbed the man removing his hypnotised state, and dragged him down underwater.

Up above his dog barked more viciously, left seeing his owner be dragged by the local mermaid of Culle Bay, Nunton.

---2 weeks Later---

“What can I get ya?” The barman queried as he placed a napkin on the wooden bar and wiped down the top. “Whiskey mate” a Scouse accent replied. “coming up!” came the acknowledged response.

A glass got placed in front of John Constantine, he watched the golden dark liquid got poured into it. “Cheers.” John thanked the bartender, grabbing for his glass. He had been told about a case in Scotland about men disappearing and reappearing days later washed up on shore. He personally thought Chas was talking rubbish but Chas wouldn’t let him pass this one.

“How’d you get into this cases Johnny boy? I mean really... Merfolk.” He mumbled to himself as he let his drink warm his throat as it slid down. He had met all kinds of supernatural beings. Vampires? Check. Demons? Check. Angels? Double bloody check. Hell, he’d even come across werewolves or as he knows most of them to be- lycanthropes. But mermaids?! John was convinced Chas had lost his mind. He’d be doing this job for too many decades to believe they really existed. He truly believed if they did exist then he would have spotted one by now in one matter or another.

“You gonna keep staring lass or can I enjoy my drink without your eyes boring into the side of my skull?” he questioned without even looking to the side of him. Yet he knew there was a girl just sitting there stools away from him staring at him intently. When he had no response from her, he glanced towards her barely even turning his head. She was quite the sight John thought. Her skin was almost translucent, shimmery even. Her hair long and dark. Yet, it wasn’t those features that made him check he even still breathing. It was her eyes. They were golden. Not just bright brown that deceives onlookers into thinking they were gold. They were 100% golden, like the setting sun's rays when they got the water and dance on top of the waves.

“What’s your name love?” John enquired, unable to turn away. He’d met some gorgeous ladies in his time but this woman was hypnotic. She was nothing he’d ever encountered before. Pull it together John.

“Venilia” you tell him. You had some limited English but you understood more than you could speak. You were captivated by John. He seemed so different to the fishermen in this bar. You were intrigued by his look and style. You wondered by he would wrapped slim fabric round his neck. Your curious wandering gaze didn’t go unnoticed by him. “Like what you see?” he smirked. You wasn’t sure if you liked it as you wasn’t even sure if you understood what you saw. All you knew was you couldn’t help standing up, walking over and grabbing his tie in fascination.

This made John chuckle and wonder what drugs you were on. “Its a tie love. Lots of blokes wear them.” He smirked lifting his hand up and grazing yours as he removed his tie from your grip to flatten it back down. Not that he ever wore it properly anyway.

His brief touch threw you off guard and you pulled your hand back towards you rapidly. “You on drugs or something?” he questioned. “Dont worry about her. She’s a regular but don’t think she’s from actually from here. Just comes in and watches everyone and drinks a fuck load of salty water.” The bartender explained to John as he came back out from the back. “Is that so mate?” John responded intrigued. “Yup, but she’s not harming anyone so I let her stay. Think she’s trying to learn English from people.” John gets told before the bartender tends to a new customer who just walked in.

Maybe Chas wasn’t insane after all. He thought to himself. “How about we have a little chat lass. Would love to get to know you,” John suggested as you continued to study his whole demeanor. You step forward and go to sit next to him when you hear a familiar sound from outside and quickly run out the bar. John couldn’t believe what he just witnessed. He saw you run out but he could have sworn you barely made a sound as you placed each foot on the ground. “Dont be stupid, mermaids ain’t real and you’ll prove it.” John mumbled quietly to himself, finishing his whiskey.

“Oh they’re real alright lad! This town is known for having sirens come on stormy nights luring men by their song before dragging them to the sea depths. You’d be wise to believe in what you don’t see boy.” The oldboy next to him chirped. This caused John to just snigger as he placed a five pound note on the bar and getting up. “then I guess I’m wise mate. Just don’t think merfolk are one of the myths that are based in truth.” John quipped back leaving the bar. “Now...where did you go?” he wondered to himself before deciding against looking for you and heading back to the motel by the sea instead for a much needed sleep.

John was standing by the shoreline watching the calm seas wash out into the open world. The sun was incredible which made him glad he had his shades on. “Venilia...” he whispered as he watched you walk out the waters and up the stone steps. Your naked body glistening like sea foam. Meeting you half way John took his trusty trenchcoat off and wrapped it around you.

“You’re back love.” He smiled as you stopped him from guiding you further onto land. “I’ve come to say goodbye John. I cannot return to this world above anymore. I cannot risk your life.” You tell him in perfect English but still essences of your ethereal accent remained. “I can keep myself alive. Come...” John spoke brushing hair out of your face, getting lost in your golden eyes once more.

You leaned forward and placed an intoxicating kiss on his lips before handing back his coat and returning to the sea ..

John woke up the next day his head feeling fuzzy. “What the bloody hell was that?!” he groaned. Sitting up in bed he ran his fingers through his hair. He wondered who you were to create such a dream as that. Romantic dreams were NOT his style. Dreams that were practically porno maybe, but not disney-esque romantic ones. He shuddered in disgust that he had such a dream.

It didn’t take John long to get dressed in his usual outfit and trusty trenchcoat ready to head out and do some research. If one guy said mermaids are real, then surely there must be someone else who’s not drunk nor insane to tell him more information. As he stepped out onto the street, cars screeched down the road sirens blaring. Looking around he saw people standing around watching also. “Hey! What’s gone on?” he questioned, taking out a cigarette and lighting one up taking a deep drag.

“Another guy has been found washed up on the beach dead. Fifth one in two weeks. Poor bastard.” A bystander nearest him explained. Five men in two weeks washed up dead on the beach? Okay, I’m officially curious now. Probably demons pretending to be mermaids. He thought to himself. With a flick up of his coat collar, he begins to stride down towards the edge of the road that leads to the beach. Knowing the beach would be completely surrounded by all kinds of authorities he had to come up with a plan to inspect the body and area without being seen. Unfortunately the only way he could do that was to wait til the body was at the morgue. “bollocks. Okay, wait for the authorities to thin out and the body has gone. Start with the area first. The poor dead bastard will have to wait til tonight.” He thought out loud to himself.

Hiding under the nearest stone pier he watched silently as the dead guy got carted off in a body bag and over time the authorities cordoned off the area and left. It took most of the day, and a lot of fighting restlessness, but John could finally go over. Closing his eyes, he mumbled a spell to himself and with a wave of his hand, he cast a supernatural scan of the scene. “Now... Let’s see what we find” John said to himself. Looking around he was beginning to think it was pointless until a tiny glimmer began to reveal itself in the sand. “Hello” he remarked in an almost flirty sing song. “And what might you be?” he enquired, bending down and picking up the object in question. If was thin and scaly but not as thin as a fish scale. He wasn’t sure what it belonged to. Nothing he had seen before anyway.

He stared intently, before placing it in the palm of his hand and muttering an identification spell. It was then he began to hear an incredibly haunting song play all around him. Looking frantically around him he found nothing. The song grew louder and it felt it was burying itself so deeply into his mind, he felt like he was losing all control of his senses. Quickly snapping out of it, he rapidly shoved some headphones into his ears and stopped the spell. “close call” he muttered to himself. Could they really be real??

On the other side of the beach by a nearby rock, you hid watching him. Being on the surface in daylight was dangerous, but you had to watch him with so much curiosity in your eyes. You had never come across someone like him before. He fascinated you and now you had witnessed for yourself he could use magic, your curiosity peaked to all new heights. He was different. You could sense it but the thought of your family finding out terrified you. It actually saddens you seeing so many human men die at the hands of them. All because one man denied your mother’s love many decades ago. She cursed the land folk as she called him, to forever fall under the spell of the siren song and die in the waves. It’s why she called you Velinia for it meant ‘of the sea and the wind'.

“Velinia!!” you heard your name be called in your native tongue and it was one of your pod ushering you to come back into the sea. You did as requested but you did so reluctantly. “I’m sorry Oceania” you apologise sheepishly before diving under water causing your fluke to splash the water. “Why were you up on the surface? Your mother would kill you like those men up above if she knew you didn’t wait until the night sky rose.” She practically lectured to you, but it was out of worry. Oceania was your best friend. “One of them has picked my curiosity. He was inspecting the ground where mother left the body. He used magic dear Oceania.” You explained to her before she quickly wrapped her hand over your mouth. “A human witch?! Velinia they’re dangerous!” Oceania exclaimed in worry.

“I don’t think he is. He’s different. He doesn’t even believe in us.” You quietly tell her. No more words were exchanged whilst you both swam into the dark cave that brought you deep into the ocean depths.

John managed to charm his way into the morgue and checked the body of the latest sea victim. He choked and gagged at the pungent sea salt smell that emanated off the body. There were deep scratches running from his shoulders down his chest. Claw marks down his legs also. His skin had already started to take on a shade of grey but it was the missing heart that interested John the most. “That’s a werewolf trait. Interesting. Seems like I’m going to have to find a mermaid expert to see if this is typical.” He continued to think out loud whilst he took photos on his phone of the injuries sustained.

He decided he should start at the fisherman’s pier to see if anyone knew of anyone that lived and breathed mermaid folklore. Walking over he must have asked several people but no one knew who could help him. Hell, some even laughed at him. “You’re the one from the bar last night lad! I can help you aye.” The old man from last night spoke up, wiping his hands down his jumper walking over to him. “You’ll want to speak to Helen. She owns the nautical shop in the main town centre. Word has it she knows everything about those water beasts.” He explained and John thanked him before heading to the shopping area.

It didn’t take too long to find the shop in question as it had a mermaid as it’s logo. Stepping inside he saw an older woman with greying hair behind the counter. “Excuse me love, you Helen?” John questioned. “That’d be true. What can I help you with?” Helen replied professionally. “I was told you were the one to come to if I wanted information on mermaids.” John said straight forwardly but with a charming twist. “Sorry I can’t help you.” Helen quickly stammered, her whole body language and features changing. She no longer oozed that friendly shop owner persona.

“See love, I think you can. I’m here about the rumours of a mermaid killing your townsfolk and that if innocent blokes are getting killed, that don’t sit well with me.” John explained, dropping the level of charm and switching it to a time of force. “I’m John Constantine Helen, and I’m an exorcist, demonologist and master of the dark arts. I hunt the supernatural if they hunt us.” He properly introduced himself. He studied Helen’s features to gauge what her next move would become and he deep down felt relieved when she relaxed.

“You can’t kill these beautiful creatures. They’re already so far and between hence why people think they’re a myth. But they’re smart. REAL smart. They’re not your stereotypical Ariel. They’re predators in the waters.” She began explaining as she offered John a seat out in her office where they could talk in private. “Ariel? What the fuck is that?” John questioned not having a clue what this woman was on about. “Should have guessed. She’s Disney’s take on a mermaid.” Helen told him. “Dont do Disney lass. I’m not a kid.” John quipped. This just earned him an eye roll from Helen.

“Thing is they’re as dangerous as they are beautiful. There’s many legends of the merfolk. One is that they started life as winged muses in Olympus. They were known as Sirens back then and lost to the God's muses where they were cast out and sent to earth’s seas. There they grew tails where their legs used to be. In spite of having their wings stripped and being cast out, they used their song to guide sailors towards their rocky refuge and seduced them before killing them. Some they kept and turned into mermen so they could breed.” Helen started explaining and John couldn’t help himself be interested.

“So they were wrathful bitches who took out their anger on all men because they couldn’t spite the Greek gods?” he clarified, making sure he got it right. “Correct. Other legends are based on the country. Lots are similar to ours. It’s said by some the mermaid Caesg was spotted on the beach one day in 1880. After a woman spotted her, a young lad threw a rock at her head and she scarpered back to the sea. The next day she was found dead from the head wound further up the beach. Tail and all. They buried her at the church. Others say Caesg entranced a man by the rock pier and fell in love with him. However he betrayed her by loving someone else so she cursed the men of this place to forever fall victim to the same fate.” Helen told solemnly.

“And which do you believe?” John asked. “I believe they’re both true. I believe the mermaid killed was Caesg's daughter. I believe it wasn’t the betrayal of unrequited love that made her curse the men of this town. I believe it was the death of her first born.” Helen truthfully told. “the wrath of a mother losing a child to murder will trump any of that love will create.” Helen actually made sense John thought. He was convinced that she’d be some crazed lunatic but hearing how serious she sounded, he actually believed her. “Another thing, can you tell me if these wounds match that of a mermaid attack?” He asked, handing her his phone with the photos. The sad sigh that escaped her lips and the way her hand clasped at her chest told him the answer would be yes.

“Yes. If they feel betrayed by man they’ll tear his heart out and scar him so deep they’ll forever be marked even in death.” Helen explained once more to him. Thank you love.” He replied, taking his phone, he stood up to leave. “One more thing Mr Constantine. The legends of their song hypnotising men? That’s true. Be careful of what melodies you hear. Good luck.” Helen said one last time before wishing John farewell.

John decided to walk along the seafront back to the motel. He had a lot to mull over and research for what spells would be right to fight a creature of the sea. He couldn’t believe he was beginning to believe despite trying to stay sceptical. What he wasn’t aware of was a certain pair of golden eyes from a afar watching him.

You had made it back to the surface now the moon was high. You wasn’t ready to fully leave the water until you knew it was fully safe. It was then you spotted John walking along the seafront back to the motel. You quickly darted behind a rock and peered your head round watching with fascination. Watching him place what seemed to be a stick in his mouth and use fire magic to light it, you wondered what it was and why he placed it in his mouth. It was ever so bizarre to you. Humans were a strange species indeed. You noticed that the coast was finally clear and John was in the motel. So you lifted yourself up and shape shifted into your human figure. As you did so, you lifted your hands up your sides and created a simple floaty strap dress out the sea foam crashing on the shore.

“John...” you repeated a few times to yourself in his language as you walked up off the beach and towards the motel he was staying at. You had no idea what you were going to do when you saw him. You just knew you had to. “Velinia! Don’t!” you heard from behind you in your native language and you looked behind to see Oceania looking clearly worried. “I’ll be fine sister!” you called back before turning your back to the sea and headed to the motel. Walking in the main door you saw someone at the desk. You stepped up towards them and simply spoke one word “John”. Looking up the receptionist almost dropped his jaw at your beauty. “Sorry lass, this isn’t a place for that sort of service.” He told you, but you had no idea what he meant. “John” you repeated, a smidge louder this time but not to the point of shouting. “and I told ye are lass, we don’t allow sex services here. So if ye looking for a John check the bar” the receptionist said once more. You didn’t understand much but you understood the words sex and bar. “N...no ... John....here” you stammer, trying so hard to speak coherent English.

“You after me love?” you heard a familiar accent call out. Turning to your right he saw him. John from last night. When he looked up he recognised your distinctive look instantly. “Bloody hell! It’s you.” He gasped, quickly walking towards you and put his arms round you. “Sorry mate. It’s not what you think. I know this lass. Thanks for finding her. Been worried sick all day looking for her.” John convincingly lied guiding you to his room. Stepping inside, you looked around wide eyed. It was so different to the bar where you studied how humans spoke.

“Yeah... It’s not much but it’s a bed for a couple of nights.” John told you, ruffling his hands through his scruffy blonde hair. Spinning round on your dainty feet, you smiled. God that smile could melt hearts. He thought to himself. “Why were you looking for me? I’m not that memorable.” He asked you, genuinely curious. You glided towards him with such an innocence to you, but he found it greatly alluring. You placed your hands on his chest, lightly guiding them over as you inspected his body. “woah” he gasped actually taken aback. He was used to him being the forward one. “John...teach... Velinia” you slowly said, gazing into his eyes.

“Teach you what? Who are you?” John was baffled. “John...” you stated, patting his chest. “Velinia” you stated once more, patting your chest. “Your name is Velinia?” he queried. With a nod you smiled. “My name...Velinia”. You repeat, whilst learning. “I take it you’re not from bonny ol’ Scotland judging by your accent.” John spoke, walking over to the mini bar and taking one of the mini bottles of alcohol. “Mmhmm...” you respond with shaking your head. You didn’t know the word so you figured this was the best response to do.

“So where are you from?” John asked, sitting on the end of the bed, patting beside him to guide you to sit beside him. You tilted your head in confusion glancing from the bed to him. With a smirk appearing at the corners of his lips, he told you to come sit beside him. You did as suggested and a little gasp escaped your lips at how the bed bounced slightly under your weight. “I’ve never known someone surprised by a bed before.” John chuckled. This made you look instantly embarrassed as you let your hair fall in front of your face. The next move took you off guard even more as John reached his hand up and gently pulled your hair off your face and behind your ear. God you’re beautiful beyond words he thought to himself. You glanced up at him watching him intently. He found himself not being able to break your gaze. Your eyes...they were something else. “Velinia... I...” he breathed as he leaned in closely to you, and you responded by mimicking his actions. If there was one thing you did know it was the lead up to a kiss.

Closing the gap between you both, you pressed your lips against John’s, where he instantly took the lead kidding you with power and lust. Yet it was also slow. Normally he wouldn’t waste time. He’d be hungry and impatient to speed the situation up but something was powering his mind and body to not do exactly that. You were different, you made him act differently and he liked it. Your lips tasted salty like the sea and yet it didn’t deter him away. The kiss seemed to last forever when it actual fact it was only a couple of minutes before you both broke away from each other.

Smiling, you looked intently into his eyes as John swept your hair out of your face and behind your ear. He wanted to speak, to say something but he couldn’t find the words which was unlike him. “...I stay...here to...night?” you ask in broken English which truth be told, John was beginning to find quite adorable. It was a quirk that he found made you all that more endearing. “You want to stay here with me tonight?” He asked, clarifying your question, gaining a little smirk on his lips. You nod “yes” you confirm smiling back. “Sure. You can have the bed and I’ll use the chair love.” John graciously offered. This offer made you look across the room to the chair in the right hand corner, you grimaced at the sight of it. “What? I’ve slept in worse places! Can’t think of any right now...” John rambled, deep down knowing he really could think of worse places on the spot but he didn’t want to terrify you.

“Both....bed” you suggested, hoping it was the right term to use. “Share the bed? It’ll be a tight fit love, it’s a single bed.” John questioned. Not that he minded the idea of snuggling tightly to you for the night. Once again, you nodded and a defiant little 'mm' sound escaped your lips. Seeing you go from almost timid to defiant made John plaster a cocky grin on his face. “okay then. I guess we’re sharing the bed!” he confirmed. It wasn’t long before you got distracted by other various objects in the room. Things you never encountered in the bar....like the TV. Where you sat you never noticed the bar actually had one, and here you were up close to one. John, still on the bed with the remote in hand turned it on and you got do startled, you jumped back.

This made John burst into laughter. “I’m sorry lass...I couldn’t help myself! Here, I’ll show you how I did it.” John spoke through giggles, sighing and wiping laughter tear from his eye. You walked back to the bed and curled up beside him, in an attempt to not fall off the edge. He handed you the remote control. “This thing here controls the TV over there. Press that button there” he explained, pointing the channel up button. Pressing it, you saw the TV change from an old black and white image to a full colour one with completely different humans inside. You did it again and sea creatures came on which made you jump up and pounce towards the TV again. You held your hand against the screen as jellyfish swam in the ocean inside.

You stayed there for a while because you fell asleep on the floor, causing John to smile, get off the bed, walk over and pick you up to carry you to the bed. Soon after that, you both were fast asleep.

A siren began to sing on the beach....

The two of you awoke rapidly. “What is that sound?” John queried, trying to figure out where it’s coming from. “Oh no...” you muttered, recognising the call of your mother. She was on the prowl once more.

You scurried off the bed and practically ran out the motel room, with John scrambling to try and follow you. “Velinia wait up!” he shouted, as he caught you dash across the road, barely missing the one truck that was still on the road. “Bollocks!!” he cursed, fumbling getting his left arm in his trenchcoat sleeve before making it across the road and following you down to the pier. Panting, he looked around everywhere but you were gone. “Oh pissing hell!! Velinia where you go love?!” he shouted, he could have sworn you went this way. He never loses people, so how on earth did you escape him so damn quickly.

Then that sound... No, that music started again. He desperately shaking his head, trying to fight off the magic he could feel trying to control his mind, but nothing he did could fight it. He couldn’t even keep his mind straight to come up with a contradicting spell to help himself out. He followed the sound down to the rocks below the pier where low and behold there was a mermaid sitting on a bolder.

“Are you my jolly sailor Bold?” she asked John and he couldn’t find the answer to respond. He just stepped closer, reaching out. “No, you’re not my sailor Bold.... You belong to Velinia...” she spoke, but there was malice in her words. John was tainted as far as she was concerned, so she grabbed his arm in one fast swift action and dragged him to the sea below. The rapid action snapped John out of the hypnotic state he had fallen into. He went to speak but realised he was under water. Thrashing against the grip that was had on him, he looked behind and knew he wasnt imagining things. Mermaids really were real. “You dare connect with this one Velinia? You defy all our rules?!”

John couldn’t understand anything, but he was smart enough to know this was an language being spoken. He never once stopped thrashing whilst he still had breath in him. No way was he going down without a fight. The mermaid grew more and more intolerant to John’s thrashing. Seeing a rock on the sea bed, she dived deeper, stretching out her hand, grabbed the rock and lifting her hand high above his head. “NO!” Velinia screamed, swimming out of the seaweed where you was hiding. Stretching out her arms, you knew you had to save him. John was special. You senses the magic inside him from your first encounter but you also sensed so much more.

“You’d pick this human over your own kind?!” your mother practically spat. “Yes! He’s different! Leave him be!” you cried back, fully aware John was staring right at you in disbelief you weren’t human. “Fine! Then try to save his soul before it’s too late! You my dear are vanquished from this pod!! I curse you to be human and to never return to us!” your mother hissed at you, knowing this was the worst punishment your kind could ever receive. At that point, your mother slammed the rock over John’s head, knocking him out and leaving him to sink further down. With a strong kick of your fin, you dived towards him and grabbed him before swimming back up towards the surface. As each kick got you closer, you felt your mother’s curse take it’s control and soon enough you were breaking the surface with not a fun, but two human legs.

Pulling John to safety you stayed beside him. “Please...be alive.” You begged, tears stinging your eyes as they bubbled to the surface and rolled down your cheeks. With a hefty groan, John came round, wincing as he felt the back of his head. “Damn that hurts.” He complained before you pounced on him, wrapping your arms round him and sobbed. “I thought she killed you” you cried. Taken aback, John let his kind catch up to what happened before hugging you back. “It’ll take more than a rock to kill me love.” John reassured you. “hang on.... you’re a mermaid??” he pulled you back to take your appearance fully in. Though, he saw no tail, no fluke...just legs. You nodded solemnly, I was... Mother...she cursed me. Cannot go back... Human...” you explained, patting your chest to try and help your explanation of your new found situation. “I know she’s your mother but what a bitch! You were gorgeous Velinia. You still are mind.” John responded, feeling sad and angry for you.

“You’re not alone though Velinia.” John told you, lifting your head up by your chin with his index finger. You slowly glance up at him and wonder how he could say such a thing. You haven’t learned nearly enough of his world to live alone. He could see the tears brimming to the edge of your eyes and he just grabbed you pulling you into his chest. He knew if you were to be go back to the warehouse with him, you’d be in danger by the demons that are after him. You were special. Unique. That would make you valuable in Hell's eyes.

With a hefty sigh, and much inner arguing in his mind he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll call my mate Chas. He can pick us up and you can come back with me. I’ll help you get on your feet and learn more about this world. But lass, it’s not going to be safe being around me for long.” John forewarned you. You nodded and your lips stammered as you searched for your words. “Thank you... John Constantine” he smiled, running his hand through your hair.

“Just call me John love.”

[thecoleopterawithana]

Coming Up

This McCartney II (1980) hit single, extremely popular on both sides of the Atlantic, was recorded during the summer of 1979, in circumstances eerily similar to the creation of the first McCartney (1970). 

In a show of the cyclic nature of life and karma that John Lennon would no doubt appreciate, Paul retires once again to his farms to escape the tensions of a crumbling band, focusing on the wonders of music and testing how he could stretch on his own. 

And from his exploration and experimentation emerged an exciting new song.

I originally cut it on my farm in Scotland. I went into the studio each day and just started with a drum track. Then I built it up bit by bit without any idea of how the song was going to turn out. After laying down the drum track, I added guitars and bass, building up the backing track. I did a little version with just me as the nutty professor, doing everything and getting into my own world like a laboratory. The absent-minded professor is what I go like when I'm doing those; you get so into yourself it's weird, crazy. But I liked it.

Then I thought, 'Well, OK, what am I going to do for the voice?' I was working with a vari-speed machine with which you can speed up your voice, or take it down a little bit. That's how the voice sound came about. It's been speeded up slightly and put through an echo machine I was playing around with. I got into all sorts of tricks, and I can't remember how I did half of them, because I was just throwing them all in and anything that sounded good, I kept. And anything I didn't like, I just wiped.

– Paul McCartney, interviewed by Paul Gambaccini for Rolling Stone (26 June 1980).

It was released as a single on April 1980, with a live version recorded in Glasgow, Scotland, during Wings UK tour (17 December 1980), as the first song in the b-side. The latter became the more popular version in America.

I always thought the single was going to be the solo version. We did the song on tour because we wanted to do something the audience hadn't heard before. The live version on the b-side of the single was recorded on the last night of the tour in Glasgow. In America, a lot of the disc jockeys on the top 40 stations picked up on this side and so it became the a-side in the States. It's the b-side in the rest in the world. 

– Paul McCartney, interviewed by Paul Gambaccini for Rolling Stone (26 June 1980). 

And thanks to all these DJs, one merry day, the letter reached “his brother across the sea”.

Lennon was being driven by Fred Seaman through Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, when he first heard ‘Coming Up’ on the radio. ‘Fuck a pig, it’s Paul,’ he exclaimed, before turning up the volume and nodding along. 'Not bad,’ he decided at the song’s conclusion.

He asked Seaman to buy him a copy of McCartney II and set up a new stereo system in his bedroom specifically so he could listen to it.

The next day, 'Coming Up’ was still rattling around John’s head. 'It’s driving me crackers,’ he told Seaman, before venturing the opinion that even if its parent album was patchy, at least Paul was back trying to do something eclectic and experimental.

– In Man On The Run: Paul McCartney In The 1970s, by Tom Doyle (2013).  

After, when talking to the press, John tried to curb his enthusiasm and come off as unaffected, in that usual way of his.

Somebody asked me what I thought of Paul’s last album and I made some remark like, I thought he was depressed and sad. But then I realized I hadn’t listened to the whole damn thing. I heard one track – the hit “Coming Up,” which I thought was a good piece of work. Then I heard something else that sounded like he was depressed. But I don’t follow their work. I don’t follow Wings, you know. I don’t give a shit what Wings is doing.

–  John Lennon, interviewed by David Sheff for Playboy (September 1980).  

But later, on the day after his birthday, John reiterates his passion for the song and aligns with Paul, not only on his choice of preferred version (solo VS Wings), but he also shares Paul’s frustration with the US single swap.

John: Well, he had a single – it’s on the radio, out here – and I thought that ‘Coming Up’ was great! But I liked the freak version that he made in his barn [more] than that live Glasgow one, you see. I’m – yeah. Hilburn: The one that’s on the album. The one with the speeded up voices? John: Yeah, I think that’s – if I’d been with him, I would have said, “Yes, that’s the one,” too, and I thought that the record company had the nerve changing it round on him. But you know, I know what they mean, they want to hear the real guy singing, but I like the freaky one. Stevie Wonder does it, nobody moans at him. 

– John Lennon in talks with LA Times writer Robert Hilburn. October 10th, 1980 (Hit Factory, New York).

In fact, this song was so impactful for John, that it shook him out of his five-year hiatus, prompting him to get back in the studio and record Double Fantasy. This was something that Paul, in turn, greatly appreciated.

TV GUIDE: At the time of Wings, how competitive were you with your former Beatles band mates?

PAUL: Really competitive. I don’t think any of us would have ever admitted it. I know we would listen to what each other was doing and [think], “Oh, my God, that’s good.” I know for a fact John did once with [my] song ‘Coming Up’. It was on a documentary, I think, about John, where his recording manager at the time said John listened to it and went, “Oh, I’ll have to go back to work.” I found that a very nice fact that I egged John into doing something.

– Paul McCartney, interviewed by Lisa Bernhard and Steven Reddicliffe for TV Guide: Listen to what the man says (May 1st, 2001).

And again, some years later, he reemphasises.

Apparently John heard it when he was in New York. I saw a John documentary and somebody was saying, ‘I brought this record of Paul’s to John and played it for him.’ John went, 'Oh fuckin’ hell, the bastard’s done something good! I’ve gotta work!' I love the idea of forcing him up off his arse.

– Paul McCartney, in Conversations with McCartney by Paul du Noyer (2015).

And Paul had every reason to be elated by this development. After all, it meant that the message had gotten across the sea, was received and taken to heart by its addressee. 

So what did the letter say, exactly? Well, let’s look into it, shall we?

You want a love to last forever / One that will never fade away / I want to help you with your problem / Stick around, I say

Coming up / Coming up, yeah / Coming up like a flower /Coming up, I say

You want a friend you can rely on / One who will never fade away / And if you're searching for an answer / Stick around, I say

Coming up / Coming up / Coming up like a flower / Coming up, yeah

You want some peace and understanding / So everybody can be free / I know that we can get together / We can make it, stick with me

It's coming up / Coming up / Coming up like a flower / Coming up for you and me

Coming up / Coming up, I say / Coming up like a flower / Coming up, I feel it in my bones / Yeah, yeah yeah yeah

You want a better kind of future / One that everyone can share / You're not alone, we all could use it / Stick around, we're nearly there

Coming up / Coming up everywhere / Coming up like a flower / Coming up for all to share

Coming up, yeah / Coming up, anyway / Coming up like a flower / Coming up

The phrase ‘Coming up’ is used in two ways here:

Coming up like a flower  [as in literally rising out of the ground]

The choice in metaphor could be attributed to the sentiment of renewal, of rebirth, of something Starting Over. 

But besides the more lyrical interpretation, the term ‘flower’ here couldn’t be accidental, as it makes a common appearance in John’s idea of love.  

Q: As Tom Robbins half-facetiously asks in his most recent book, “How do you make love stay?”

John: Trying to possess it makes it go away. Trying to possess somebody makes them go away. Every time you put your finger on it, it slips away. Every time you turn the microscope’s light on, the thing changes so you can never see what it is. As soon as you ask the question, it goes away. Peripheral vision is what it is. There’s no looking directly at it. Try to look at the sun. You go blind, right? Now that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work on it. Love is a flower and you have to water it.

Yoko: Yes. I think that love will never die. Once you know somebody, you can never unknow that person. And knowing is loving. So you can never get out of love. There might be misunderstandings and separating for other reasons, but love is always there. Staying together is just one form of love. Maybe that’s a strong love and expression of love. But love is a soul thing. It always stays there. 

— John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

John’s philosophy and choice in words seem to be heavily inspired by the D. H. Lawrence poem ‘Mess Of Love’.

We've made a great mess of love Since we made an ideal of it. The moment I swear to love a woman, a certain woman, all my life That moment I begin to hate her.

The moment I even say to a woman: I love you! --- My love dies down considerably.

The moment love is an understood thing between us, we are sure of it, It's a cold egg, it isn't love any more.

Love is like a flower, it must flower and fade; If it doesn't fade, it is not a flower, It's either an artificial rag blossom, or an immortelle, for the cemetery.

The moment the mind interferes with love, or the will fixes on it, Or the personality assumes it as an attribute, or the ego takes possession of it, It is not love any more, it's just a mess. And we've made a great mess of love, mind-perverted, will-perverted, ego-perverted love. 

In fact, it is not the first time D. H. Lawrence has been referenced in Beatle company. On 23 January 1969, as the band finishes up the day’s sessions in Apple Studios, a visiting Robert Fraser teases Paul about his looks. [Head to the link for self-explaining footage].

Robert: Ah, you look like a Victorian miner now, you know. [Paul laughs]

Paul: Aye.

Robert: A D.H. Lawrence. 

Paul: Well, I can’t afford to mess around here, you know. No.

John: [camp affect] Mess me up baby, in my red-hot fire.

Paul: I’m a golden garter. 

The Victorian miner here could be referring to a young love in D. H. Lawerence’s life:

I believe the nearest I've come to perfect love was with a young coal-miner when I was about 16.  

– D. H. Lawerence, as quoted in My Life and Times, Octave Five, 1918–1923 by Compton MacKenzie.

It’s unclear if John knew of the poet before this exchange, but some months later he was well acquainted with his work.

Love is like a precious plant. You can't just accept it and leave it in the cupboard, or just think it's gonna get on with itself. You gotta keep watering it. You've got to really look after it, and be careful of it, and keep the flies off and see that it's alright, and nurture it. 

– John Lennon, 'Man of the Decade' Interview (2 December 1969).

And if we want to go further down the rabbit hole, one only has to look at how John and Paul talk about plants to understand what went wrong in the relationship.

When we are in Scotland we plant stuff -- vegetables -- and we'll leave them there, and of their own volition they will push up. And not only will they push up and grow into something, but then they will be good to eat. To me that's an all-time thing. That's fantastic. How clever! Just that things push their own way up and they feed you. 

– Paul McCartney, interviewed for Life Magazine (16 April 1971).  

Because if one the one hand we have 69 John’s view of ‘love is delicate and fragile and has to be carefully taken care of, it has to be nurtured, and inattention and dismissal will make it wither and die’, on the other hand we have Paul’s 71 revelation of ‘wow, I never knew that love could just grow on its own, that it could just naturally push up without your coaxing and continuous care, and on top of that it feeds you, it gives you something instead of just taking!’

(But I’m probably reading too much into that, in spite of it being eerily fitting...). 

But then, we have,

It’s Coming Up [as in something drawing near or approaching, like a... birthday]

There was indeed a special birthday coming up the year this song hit the airwaves. On October 9th, 1980, John Lennon turned 40. And forty seemed to be a relevant age for John and Paul. 

When asked in 1963 what they’d do when the bubble burst, Paul answered:

We’ve thought about it, and probably the thing John and I will do is write songs as we have been doing as a sort of sideline now. We’d probably develop that a bit more, we hope. Who knows, at forty we might not know how to write songs any more.

– Paul McCartney, interviewed for BBC’s ‘Mersey Sound’ (1963).

And John, a couple of years later, in 1965, during a press conference in San Francisco:

If we're still alive, we’ll come back when we're forty and look at the places that looked interesting.

Add to that the Beatles bursting simultaneously, on two separate occasions, into the chorus of ‘The Old Dutch’ song:

We've been together now for forty years!  

And how could we forget John’s wonderful exchange with himself:

Q. I’m sorry. Just a few more questions MR. LENNON, I’m sure you understand I have a deadline… my editor… etc..

A. Alright then, GET ON WITH IT!

Q. Have you ever fucked a guy?

A. Not yet, I thought I’d save it til I was 40, life begins at 40 you know, tho I never noticed it.

Q. It is trendy to be bisexual and you’re usually ‘keeping up with the Jones’, haven’t you ever… there was talk about you and PAUL…

A. Oh, I thought it was about me and Brian Epstein… anyway I’m saving all the juice for my own version of THE REAL FAB FOUR BEATLES STORY etc.. etc..

Q. It seems like you’re saving quite a lot for when you’re 40..

A. Yes, there might be nothing better to do, tho I don’t believe it.

– John Lennon, interviewed by himself for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine (November 1974).

Paul himself repeats the saying much later in life:

Q: When did you start [painting] in a regular way? 

Paul: When I was forty, somebody said: “Life begins at forty,” so I took them literally and instead of taking it as just a symbolic idea of a time to start something, I really wanted something to start. 

– Paul McCartney, in Paul McCartney: Paintings (1999).

John Lennon is also recorded saying:

Time will tell where the real magic lies. I’m only 40 now when this tape comes out. Paul’s 38.

John, in fact, ended up writing a song titled ‘Life Begins At 40′ in 1980.

They say life begins at forty / Age is just a state of mind / If all that's true / You know, that I've been dead for thirty-nine

And if life begins at forty / Well, I hope it ain't the same / It's been tough enough without that stuff / I don't wanna to be born again

Well, I tried to sweep the slate clean / With a new broom ev'ry day / If that don't work / I'll jerk around until my next birthday

Yeah, life begins at forty / Age is just a state of mind / Well, if all that's true / You know that I've been dead for thirty-nine

He didn’t record it for Double Fantasy, as he intended to give it to Ringo, for inclusion in his upcoming album. 

The same one on which John and Paul had planned to reunite musically.

John finally took Paul up on his offer. He trusted that he and Paul could make it, and was ready to stick with him, to Start Over.

But he wasn’t born again long enough for that. 

Outro

‘Coming Up’ was recently included in Paul McCartney’s 2018 Valentine’s Day Playlist, which is described as “the sound of Paul in love”. 

[Disclaimer: I didn’t come up with all of these connections. For that, I have to thank @sweating-cobwebs for exposing the importance of the upcoming anniversary in the most pleasing way possible, in Vol 4 of Understanding Lennon/McCartney. And a shoutout to @northernsongspeels for unearthing that D. H. Lawerence poem. Quotes are linked to their original posts, where it applies.

I made this post out of the desire to gather in a single place everything about a song that I love, and register its importance as the last love letter Paul sent John while the latter was still alive. It’s both beautiful and tragic that this was the one John finally responded to in the way that was desired.]

[amoralto]

Playgirl: Paul! (June, 1982)

(Note: I’ve been wondering if I should include more full articles/interviews on the blog, i.e. pieces that are not already available and/or hosted online. This is one of them - more of an overview/feature piece, but worth a read nonetheless. For Paul and Linda’s 1985 interview w/ Playgirl, I typed it up a while ago here. Previous quote posts from both articles: here, here.) 

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by Mark Rowland

He turns 40 this month, and if he is anything like the rest of us, the last 20 must feel as close as yesterday. Was it really so long ago that four working-class chums from a dingy English port town sang and laughed and shook their mop-tops to signal a crumbling of the old order and a hailing of the new? You look for the signs of age in recent photographs, but the changes are so subtle—a slight hollowing of those cherubic cheeks, perhaps a hint of wariness in eyes that used to sparkle with playful coquetry. Yes, time has been a gentle thief.

The lad who stole girls’ hearts all ’round the world is a husband of 13 years standing, and the father of four. The inveterate rock ’n’ roller divides his time between home and studio, now surfacing to promote a new album (Tug of War, Columbia), soon disappearing back into the mists of his Scotland farm. Which is just as it should be. Paul McCartney, handsome and rich and brimming with easy charm—and still the mirror in which we seek the reflection of our own youthful dreams.

“I like Walt Disney cartoons—they sort of live forever.” Paul McCartney

In fact, the last decade has not treated Paul all that kindly. When it becan he was, quite simply, a hero. By its close he’d become the subject of casual ridicule, a turnabout engineered in part by the mocking comments of his former best friend and musical compatriot, John Lennon. Any critical appraisal of his band, Wings, was bound to include unflattering comparisons to the Beatles and/or snide references to the credentials of its keyboard player, who just happened to be Paul’s wife.

And then there was Wings’ disastrous final episode, a triumphant tour of Japan that abruptly terminated when customs officials unearthed a hefty cache of marijuana in Paul’s luggage. Instead of Budokan’s concert stage, McCartney commenced a 10-day engagement “live” in the local jail, regaling his fellow inmates with renditions of “Yesterday” and “Mull of Kintyre”. Then he was deported.

“He certainly received quite a shock,” recalls Michael McCartney, Paul’s brother and the author of an affectionate family history entitled The Macs (Delilah Communications, Ltd.). “But even worse was the way the media deliberately distorted his situation. When I said I was angry at what was happening, for instance, they made it sound like I was angry at Paul. So just at the crucial moment, when the court is weighing judgment, they read the papers and think, ‘My God, even his own family thinks he’s a fool.’ It could have gone to his detriment, you know. He could have been locked up for years.”

Paul’s problem, of course, is that he has always appeared just a tad too sexy, too suave, too eager to please. His equipoise looms like a red flag to critics ready to knock him down a peg, and no matter that his temperament is genuinely affable. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a bad mood,” contends rockabilly great Carl Perkins, a friend of nearly 20 years standing. “I’ve worked with a lot of greats, from Elvis to Dylan, and they could all get pretty moody at times. But Paul’s not like that. I’m sure he has a time and place, but it doesn’t interfere with his outward personality.” Though McCartney is far from invulnerable, it has never been his style to exorcise personal demons in public, a la John Lennon. Instead, he turns inward, to his family and his music. When the Beatles broke apart, Paul did both—he formed a new band with his wife.

“If you want the Beatles, go see Wings.” George Harrison

“I think I’m good. I like me, I’m good. I can dig me. Can you?” Paul McCartney

“He sounds like Englebert Humperdinck.” John Lennon

Wings took flight in 1971, when Paul and Linda joined forces with old pal Denny Laine (from the Moody Blues) and drummer Danny Seiwell. It endured, in various incarnations, for eight more years and eight more albums. Paul first conceived the band as a vehicle for playing small clubs and halls, a return to his rock roots and an emergence from the isolation that, in Paul’s view, had ultimately destroyed the Beatles. As a traveling show, Wings was a hit from the start—who wouldn’t want to hear Paul play the local pub?—but a succession of pop hits soon propelled him back to superstar-sized arenas and concert halls.

Critical acclaim was not so readily forthcoming. Without the Beatles’ special alchemy Paul’s romanticism tended to drift toward pap, lacking the spark of originality that characterized the best McCartney-Lennon collaborations. His most acrid critic, to Paul’s everlasting chagrin, turned out to be Lennon. For years they squabbled like ex’s unable to leave behind a stormy marriage, but when it came to sarcastic repartee John was in a class by himself. Japes like the one about Humperdinck, or the picture of John hoisting a pig by its ears (a wicked sendup of Paul holding up a sheep on the cover of his Ram album) wounded Paul deeply. He still has not entirely recovered; in a recent interview he claimed to draw fresh solace from his conversations with Yoko Ono. “She tells me something very important,” he revealed, “that John still loved me, after all.”

“Of course my brother and John loved each other,” declares Michael McCartney, “same as my brother and I do. Brothers have their feuds—you love ’em and you hate ’em. Oh, it’s easy enough to put all the negative parts under a microscope. I could have written a book called Paulie Dearest, slagged him to death and made millions. But it wouldn’t have been the truth. With Paul and John, though, all the dirty linen was brought out in public.”

Despite, or perhaps because of, such controversy, Paul continued to pour his energy into the music, and by 1976, his faith had been rewarded. Wings toured America that year like conquering heroes. McCartney was hailed on the cover of Time, and the band’s crack performances drew wildly ecstatic crowds and rave reviews. Amidst all the hoopla, however, Paul and Linda remained serene and jocular, causing one associate to marvel that McCartney was the only touring rock star around who knew how to keep a grip on his sanity.

”Groupies, chicks. It was fabulous. I loved it. There was no stopping me after a (Beatles) show. I was the biggest raver out. But I got to thinking, ‘What am I doing with my life? Who am I getting to know? What one chick do I know as a pal?’ And there weren’t any… Mainly, I’d sown enough wild oats. Making love does become a sort of commitment—I love the idea of vows and stuff. To tell the truth, it keeps me kind of straight.” Paul McCartney, 1974

“I’m not sophisticated, a good conversationalist, looking good all the time. I don’t think of myself like Jacqueline Kennedy or Patricia Nixon.” Linda McCartney, 1974

Paul was always the most desirable of the Beatle bachelors, and by the end of the sixties, he was the only one left. Any whiff of serious romance merited close scrutiny by the press. Thus, Linda “no relation to Kodak” Eastman was in for some rough sport, when, after a relatively swift courtship, she and Paul tied the knot in 1969. A rock photographer at the Fillmore East who’d enjoyed acquaintanceships with various rock figures previous to meeting Paul, she was dubbed the “Park Avenue groupie”—a sobriquet that says more about rock’s inbred sexism than Linda’s character. (Years later, Rolling Stone slurred Joni Mitchell in much the same fashion.)

Nonetheless, Paul and Linda took to the life of domestic bliss with remarkable dispatch, a condition rather smugly documented on their first two records together, Ram and Wild Life. Since then, however, they’ve managed to sustain the ideal of traditional marriage and family—no mean feat in this era of celebrity swapstakes. Though rumors of discord surface from time to time, from all indications, their marriage remains solid. Indeed, one of the highlights of the Wings Over America tour was Paul’s impassioned rendition of “My Love”, crooning the hook “my love does it gooood” while a smiling Linda posed before the multitudes, hands on hips, letting no one miss the implications of that particular song.

“Paul would be sort of a Republican.” John Eastman, Paul’s brother-in-law and business manager

According to the Guinness Book of World Records, Paul McCartney is “the most honored man in music.” One is naturally inclined to trust Guinness in these matters, and Paul’s statistics do tell an amazing story—over 100 million album sales, 100 million singles sales and, separately, 43 million-selling songs. Since 1970, all 10 of Paul’s records (solo and with Wings) have been certified gold by the Record Industry Association of America. The last five releases have also gone platinum (over a million units sold), and his newest, Tug of War, which features Ringo, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson and Carl Perkins, is certain to do the same.

During the sixties, however, only a small part of the Beatles’ fabulous success translated into personal wealth. For many years the band relied on a loose network of acquaintances to handle their financial matters—most proved either honest or competent, but rarely both. But under the guidance of John Eastman, Paul has since realized a vast financial empire, with an estimated annual income, mostly from record and publishing royalties, of about $40 million. His publishing house, MPL, originally established for tax purposes, is the largest independent song publisher in the world, holding the rights to scores from Grease, Annie, Hello Dolly, A Chorus Line, Bye Bye Birdie and Mame; standards from “On, Wisconsin” to “Stormy Weather” and “Autumn Leaves”; the entire catalog of Buddy Holly songs, rags by Scott Joplin, songs by Ira Gershwin, even the theme to the Dinah Shore TV show. And in a recent twist of fate, Paul and Yoko are currently negotiating with British mogul Sir Lew Grade to buy back Northern Songs, the catalog of early Beatles hits (including “Yesterday”) that was sold during the sixties. The whimsical Beatle has turned out to be one savvy entrepreneur.

Less publicized, however, are McCartney’s frequent gestures of charity. He’s performed various benefits for UNESCO, and, in 1979,, following a plea from then-Secretary General of the United Nations Kurt Waldheim, he personally organized a giant pop concert to raise the emergency relief aid for Kampuchea. The event and subsequent album, Concerts for the People of Kampuchea (featuring the Who, Queen, the Pretenders and Elvis Costello, among others), has netted UNICEF over $600,000 to date, according to organization officials. A concert movie will also be released around the United States and Europe this summer.

McCartney’s generosity crops up in smaller, more personal encounters. “When I first decided to become a writer, I sent a bunch of stuff to Paul,” recalls Laura Gross, now a radio interviewer at KRLA, the “Beatles station” of Los Angeles. “Then, when he came to L.A., I knocked on the door of his hotel, and he said ‘Oh yes, I’ve read your stuff, you ought to send us what you’re doing. Linda and I are very interested.’ Here I was, a stranger and a nobody, and he took the time to be kind. He gave me encouragement at a time when that was very important to me.”

“He was my boss,” observes Wings guitarist Laurence Juber, “but he was also my teacher. At one point he gave me a fairly substantial budget just so I could develop my own ideas. He’s an extremely benevolent sort of person, but he doesn’t shout about it. He’s aware of his responsibility to other talents, otherwise he wouldn’t be a nice person, and he is a nice person. Of course, he’s always got that element of cockiness about him, because he’s come such a long way. Don’t forget, he was just a kid off the street in Liverpool. That’s all any of them were.”

“Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust.” The Clash

“I love Paul, he’s my favourite—brown, white, red, blue or green! He is the Beatles.” Little Richard, interviewed by KRLA’s Laura Gross

In 1974, Mark Lapidos decided to put together a kind of giant swap meet and communal gathering for Beatles fans. He called it Beatlefest, rented a hall, and ended up admitting 7,000 people and turning away thousands more. This year, Beatlefest will span 11 days in four different U.S. cities, as interest continues to mount in a group that called it quits more than a decade ago. “We’re not living in the past,” Lapidos insists. “You take surveys now and ask young people their favourite group and what do they say? The Beatles! Their music will not die. It is the cultural phenomenon of the century.”

Lapidos may be right. The past year has evidenced yet another spate of books and articles about the Beatles, along with discoveries of long-dormant radio recordings and master tapes by the Fab Foursome. And if anything, the hideous murder of John Lennon in December 1980 seems to have inspired fans to rekindle the flame of memory. “We simply couldn’t let that act destroy such an important part of our lives,” explains Lapidos. “Actually, we became more like family, pulling closer together after we’d lost our brother.”

The man who knew John Lennon best was devastated by his murder. Paul’s friend, Paddy Moloney of the Chieftains, remembers seeing McCartney looking “stunned. He said it was useless and tragic, (but) I don’t think it had penetrated that John was gone forever. I’m sure it took a few days for that to sink in.” When it did, Paul turned, as he always did in times of crisis, to his closest ally—music. At the suggestion of friend and producer George Martin, he shifted base from London to Martin’s studio on the Caribbean island of Montserrat, away from the obtrusive glare of the media. Once settled in with Linda and the kids, he called up Ringo, Wingsmate Denny Laine, Carl Perkins, Stevie Wonder, and embarked on the most ambitious and painstaking project of his musical career.

“I have never met a more dedicated musician than Paul McCartney. He’ll work all night on a little guitar lick until he gets it just the way he wants it. He’s a perfectionist.” Carl Perkins

The intensity of his commitment on Montserrat became its own kind of therapy. Between sessions the musicians would swim, sun on the beach, or take Jeep rides along the scenic island trails. But after two months, McCartney and Martin returned to London, where they continued to refine the material for another year. The sessions had produced two albums worth of music; the second set was still in its final stages of completion when I phoned Martin’s studio in March. A spokesperson remarked that McCartney was anxiously awaiting its public reception. “I think Paul wants to have a truly ‘musical’ success this time, not just a popular one,” she declared. “He really wants to be recognized for achieving something.”

In the past decade, McCartney’s most trying periods have often fostered his best work—McCartney and Ram, following the Beatles split; Band on the Run in 1973, when Wings was coming apart at the seams, and to a lesser extent, Back to the Egg in 1979, amidst persistent rumors that Paul and Linda’s marriage was on the rocks. But all of those efforts pale, I think, beside Tug of War. Here Paul has finally cast off the aureole of calculated cuteness that marred so much of his seventies music, and penned lyrics that are evocative, unsentimental and deeply personal. At the same time, the album’s sheer range and spunky, let’s-try-it-on spirit recalls the Beatles at their most ambitious, from the daring juxtaposition of rock ’n’ roll rhythm and big band texture that propels “Ballroom Dancing” to the graceful, quirky country swing duet with Perkins, to the hothouse funk of “What’s That”, a six-minute corker with Stevie Wonder that bears favorable comparison to Wonder’s own “Superstition”. Yet the record’s most eloquent moment is its most elemental—a quiet, heartfelt paean to McCartney’s fallen brother, entitled “Here Today.”

And if I said I really knew you well, What would your answer be? Well, knowing you, You’d probably laugh, And say that we were worlds apart If you were here today… here today.

Every era has its myths—from Jesus to Camelot to the Beatles—and every myth exists to fill the special needs of its culture. As Beatle Paul, he will always play the courtly knight, the crooning Lancelot in shining Nehru jacket. But the real Paul McCartney is no more or less than a talented musician with wife and kids, nearing middle age and trying, along with the rest of us, to sort out the various slings and arows of life’s fortune. It is no put-down to say that nothing he ever does, no matter how accomplished, can again approach the majesty of the legend he once helped create, precisely because it is a legend.

“Why should the Beatles give more?” John Lennon once asked, with characteristic bluntness. “Didn’t they give everything on God’s earth for 10 years? Didn’t they give themselves?”

So now Lennon is gone, though his restless, vibrant spirit survives among the living. And now Paul McCartney, unarguably one of the premier artists of his generation, continues with his own life’s work, which is simply to make music for the world to hear and enjoy; perhaps even be touched by.

[lothiriel84]

And I think of you now (As a dream that I had long ago)

Oh who would walk the stoney roads Of Merlin's time And keep the watch along the borderline

- Al Stewart, Merlin’s Time

Where John Finnemore and the gang went all the way to Edinburgh, and all they got us was a fantastic show. (Again.)

As I believe I’ve mentioned on multiple occasions, the only reason why a few years ago I unexpectedly overcame my fears and general uselessness, and started travelling on my own at the ripe old age of thirty - well, almost thirty-one, actually - was the overwhelming desire to meet John Finnemore, and all the wonderful people from the Fandot. This is something I will forever be grateful for, not only because it allowed me to meet so many brilliant people - including the man himself, and the incredibly lovely cast from Souvenir Programme - but also because it gave me the chance to see so many beautiful places I would never have bothered to go through the effort of visiting otherwise. It’s no secret that I immediately fell in love with the UK - not least because, to my non-British eye, it is basically the land of Finnereferences - and while London will always hold a special place in my heart, I have a feeling that Edinburgh might have somewhat taken its place as my favourite city to be in. 

One of the reasons why I picked Edinburgh as my second date to see the show was that I had never been to Scotland before, even though I had been wanting to for some time. And let me just say that getting off the bus at Princes Street and looking up to see Edinburgh Castle felt pretty much like suddenly being transported into the landscape of legends and fairytales. As luck would have it, @iwanttotieyourshoe, @sircarolyn, and @my-sun-my-baelish had all planned to travel to Edinburgh on the same day to see the show, and we arranged to meet and wait around in a café until closer to the time the theatre doors would open. (What we definitely hadn’t planned was bumping into Margaret and Carrie as they walked down the street, but I’m fairly confident we managed to keep a somewhat dignified façade as we pretended not to notice them - though I fear I might have started giggling like a schoolgirl as soon as we passed them by, because I’m a very cool and proper grown-up, thank you very much.)

Anyway, the show. If you happen to be interested in a slightly more detailed account of the featured sketches and utter brilliance, you can find my old post about the Brighton show here. They had cut a few of the filler sketches, and of course adapted those parts that specifically referred to the location - ‘the Glasgow of the East’ was definitely a brilliant line from the Edinburgh Is The Worst song, and the stand up bit that John did at the beginning was pretty hilarious, with his account of how he failed to dress appropriately for the lovely Edinburgh weather, and as a result ended up buying a non-matching tartan shirt and pair of trousers. I’m particularly glad I got to see the show again, and not only because it was as brilliant as you might expect, but also because I had completely failed to understand all the references to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah in the Since You Ask Me - I actually had to google the line ‘the secret chord that pleases the Lord’ to find out about the song, because I’m a clot - and the fact that I finally got them this time around made it so much better. And as I believe I mentioned after seeing the show in Brighton, seeing the cast on stage is a joy in and of itself, and while I’m glad that Souvenir Programme is a radio show and therefore available in my country - not to mention the perfect thing to listen to whilst driving, or doing other chores - I still wish we got the chance to see their acting and wonderfully silly faces more often, along with their brilliant voice acting.

As I had already seen the show in Brighton, I had been planning to give each member of the cast specially made thank you cards after the show. Which was a nice idea in theory, only there are two things I most definitely would not recommend about the whole thing: putting off writing the actual messages inside the cards until about ten minutes prior to the start of the show, and hovering for an indefinite amount of time in the vicinity of the cast having after-show drinks before eventually making up my mind and handing them said cards. (Nor would I recommend not having the faintest idea what to say once I was actually standing in front of them, but I guess life is too short to spend it regretting each and every time I invariably manage to make a fool of myself in front of my favourite people.)

I still can’t decide whether I should add ‘giving David Tyler a thank you card addressed to the Flying Visit crew’ to my ever-growing list of poorly thought-out decisions, but at least the members of the cast seemed to like theirs; Carrie even suggested that I should sell them, and while I know she was probably just being nice, it was still absolutely lovely of her, especially if you consider that I basically can’t draw to save my own life. (I know this might sound a little weird - and if it does, I’m really sorry - but the cast are such adorable people, all of them, and I feel so lucky that I got to know about them, and even to meet them in person.)

That’s all about the show, I think. I spent the next day with @iwanttotieyourshoe and @sircarolyn, mostly sitting in a café because it was pouring outside and none of us was very keen on walking around in the rain; but it was still brilliant, as we threw Cabin Pressure and Souvenir Programme references at one another - and that’s something I can only do when I’m around Fandot people, which is such a pity, really.

On Sunday I finally went sightseeing around the city; you can find some of the pictures I took in my Edinburgh tag, and while the weather was a bit changeable, it still allowed me to wander around for the better part of the day. One of my favourite moments was walking down the Royal Mile whilst listening to the Edinburgh special Since You Ask Me, twice, and then the entire episode, because that’s how I roll. After that, I went to Holyrood Park and walked up the path leading to the top of Arthur’s Seat, which is an ancient volcano and a thoroughly beautiful place, with an amazing view on the city and its surroundings, including the Firth of Forth. Calton Hill also has a fantastic view on the city, as well as on Holyrood Park and Arthur’s Seat. 

By the evening I was quite tired, but I still had to pop by Greyfriars Kirkyard, because I just couldn’t miss the chance for such an obvious JFSP reference. (On a side note, I think I understand the ‘Edinburgh’s sinister past’ SYAM far better now, or at least miles better than I did before actually visiting the city.) I also stumbled upon some breathtaking views of Edinburgh Castle at dusk, which I would have otherwise missed, and while neither my phone nor my camera managed to do it any justice, I’m still glad I got to see it with my own eyes. 

And well, I guess that’s it for me this week - or month, or whatever. I have no idea when I’ll be able to travel again, but I’m still looking forward to going back to Edinburgh at some point, and hopefully see more of Scotland too. 

For Edinburgh, Edinburgh, Edinburgh is the best.