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ineloqueent · 5 years ago

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Starstruck: Part 15

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 15 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, drinking

Historical Inaccuracies:

Mary didn’t go on tour with Queen in 1975

On the 14th of November, 1975, Queen did not leave early for the start of the ANATO tour. Indeed, they “had to rush from London to Liverpool” (x) because they had been shooting the music video for ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in the very same afternoon as the day of their first gig on tour!

Word Count: 3.8k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

August, September, and October disappeared in such a whirlwind rush that you hardly noticed them. You didn’t have time to notice much these days.

Queen were running thirty-eight-hour sessions at multiple recording studios throughout London, working day and night to record and refine the material for their still unnamed fourth album.

Preparations for a release in late November were in full swing, and Queen’s manager Reid was neglecting meetings with Elton John— Elton bloody John, it would never cease to amaze you— to dedicate his time to organising the legs of Queen’s next world tour. Locations, bookings, the transport of instruments and equipment and people, lodging, catering, insurance; the list of things to arrange was endless.

Which was why you often played assistant to Reid, in the absence of Reid’s actual assistant— some clonker named Paul Prenter who turned up late to meetings and had far too much to say for how few hours he put into going to work. You couldn’t be Reid’s full-time assistant, however, because you also tagged along with Roy Thomas Baker, Queen’s producer, since Freddie had more or less insisted that you do so.

You spent a lot of time with Queen, both in the studio and out of it.

In the studio, Freddie consulted you on album concept, Deacy relied on you for input on the song he was writing about Veronica, and Brian taught you to play ‘‘39’. Hearing you sing along with Brian, Roger decided that you should help with backing vocals on one of Freddie’s tracks, and much to everyone’s delight, he coaxed you into agreement. You weren’t delighted with this arrangement, though; you were far too nervous that you’d ruin the vocals of the others.

Outside of the studio, Freddie continued to harp on about your musical education, as he called it, lending you records until you were listening to his music almost constantly.

“I want you to have memorised my collection, darling,” he said one night, swirling his wine, “by the time we set off on tour.”

“Um, okay… That’s a lot of music, Freddie,” you’d swallowed, eyeing the quite frankly enormous record collection that Freddie’s living room housed.

“Psh, all in a day’s work.”

You saw Roger the least out of the four, because when not at Queen’s various recording locations, he was… well, he was bedding Heather, to put it politely. He did take you for the occasional drink and a banter, though. You found that you and he shared a lot of similarities in terms of childhood and upbringing, and this made Roger more brotherly to you than ever.

When he had the time, John would join Roger and you for drinks at the local pub, and the three of you would spend far too long chatting away into the evening. But mostly, Deacy and Ronnie were knackered from their parenting of Robert, and when you could see it all beginning to take a toll on John— he went from the studio to caring for his son and did not sleep in between— you offered yourself as a babysitting service. Deacy and Veronica were immensely grateful for this, because Robert seemed to like you, Auntie Y/N, and though the child could scream bloody murder if he so wished, he was generally a good kid. It was enjoyable to see him learning the ways of the world around him, from lights and colours, to the sounds of his parents’ voices.

Sometimes, when you babysat Robert, Brian came along.

Robert may have liked you, but he loved Brian.

Brian had helped John and Veronica to hang glow-in-the dark stars and planet-mobiles from the ceiling of what was to be Robert’s room when he moved out of his parents’ bedroom, and Brian had been as animated by the activity as though he had been decorating a room for himself.

When Brian visited Robert, he sang to him and rocked the child in his arms and danced about the room, quite forgetting that there was anybody else there. Robert would giggle and occasionally attempt to poke Brian’s nose, which brought Brian no end of wonder, and once again affirmed for you that Brian’s aspirations of one day becoming a father were well-suited to him.

Unfailingly, on the nights when Deacy and Veronica were away, once Robert fell asleep, Brian would suggest that the two of you take to the rooftop to see the stars— of course bringing with you a baby monitor. Thus, you spent many an evening wrapped in a blanket atop the roof of your friend’s house while your best friend sat beside you, cheeks flushed with the cold but unwilling to return inside, even though his teeth chattered and his hair blew about his face in the chilly wind. You began to bring hot chocolate to the roof, though what you really wanted to do to warm Brian was to curl into his side and snuggle close to him.

You didn’t, though. You reserved your pining for him in the form of long, lingering looks.

He’d called you his best friend, and best friends, you told yourself, were built upon platonic principles. If he’d wanted romantic involvement with you, he would have made that clear, and he hadn’t, so you resigned yourself to pushing your feelings down in the pit of your stomach and pretending that his smiles didn’t melt you as easily as chocolate on a summer’s day. Naturally, however, pushing feelings down doesn’t make them go away, but rather concentrates them more, so that every brief glance and accidental touch makes one feel that everything is just that much closer to bubbling over entirely.

But Brian was everywhere you looked, inescapable, inevitable, smiling and just being generally goofy, spouting the most fascinating facts about the cosmos at odd intervals, urging you to sing with him when he sang, nodding at you approvingly over his guitar when you matched his vibrato almost perfectly one Thursday night. Because despite everything, despite Queen’s dawn-to-dusk-to-dawn schedule, Brian still made time for teaching you guitar on Thursday nights.

If it wasn’t for the nights, you might have thought that you could take it.

Take him winking at you and calling you ‘love’ at irregular moments so that your heart stuttered and your thoughts grew sluggishly slow. Take him being near you at almost every hour of every day, and long into the nights as well. Take him existing in his willowy gorgeousness, sunshine-warmed skin and sunlit eyes, soft curls, wide-eyes, angular frame.

But the nights were long, because Brian had confessed that he had begun to sleep better as of late, and this rendered his beauty healthier, more stark, in light of his getting enough rest.

Yes, the nights were long, not for him but for you, because you couldn’t close your eyes without seeing his gentle smile and his hazel eyes.

It was as though he had traded you a milder case of his insomnia, and it frustrated you perpetually, because when you weren’t working or lounging about with Queen, you were studying intensely so as to take your final exams early.

Indeed, you’d committed to not only Queen, but to astrophysics as well.

You were working overtime to finish this year’s coursework early— very early— in fact, by the middle of this month.

You’d been surprised that Dr. Carmichael had even agreed to help you in the first place, but you suspected that something about your situation had reminded him of himself. In the very least, when you’d boldly asked him why he was willing to help you with extra lecture hours and study sessions, he’d said something cryptic about once having missed an opportunity himself, and that he regretted nothing more in his life. You’d been floored that he would openly admit something so personal, being that Carmichael wasn’t the open-book type, but he’d only smiled sadly and told you to have your next paper on his desk by Monday.

It was all very stressful, going from the studio to studying and back to the studio. Your days dissolved into exam preparations and recording sessions, with only guitar lessons in between.

The most difficult part of it all was the guitar lessons.

Brian right across from you, biting his lip, bending strings up the fretboard with long fingers and a concentrated gaze. He’d glance up and nod to you, upon which you’d copy the movement he’d just done, and he would either nod again and continue in whatever song he was playing, or offer you critique. He was articulate in his teaching, and his manner utterly enamoured you, because he moved as though he were made of light.

God, you wanted to kiss him. Just the thought of him being so close to you, touching you, made you shiver. He was so delicate in everything that he did, and you wanted his delicate hands against your skin, his mouth on your mouth, breathing the same air, and you wanted him to want you.

Perhaps that was why you’d begun flirting with him, against your every notion of common sense.

It was just an innuendo here, a touch there, winking at him over your guitar. You didn’t even know where any of it was coming from, because you’d never once in your life had the confidence to flirt. Maybe you drew confidence from Brian’s reaction each time you said or did something suggestive; he blushed, looked down, smiled boyishly. Fucking hell, he was cute. And you felt an inexplicable rush of adrenaline every time you got away with pushing boundaries.

It had been Friday afternoon when Freddie opened a bottle of Moët et Chandon in the kitchen of his flat, and you were with him and Roger and John and Brian to cry woah! when the bubbly liquid shot out of the bottle and onto the floor.

“Freddie,” Brian tutted, shaking his head, and you tried not to laugh.

Roger tossed Brian a tea towel and Brian mopped up the spilled champagne.

“Well, darlings, that’s it,” said Freddie a few minutes later as the five of you gripped filled glasses, “that’s the next album!”

There was a cheer.

Roger raised his glass. “To…” He frowned. “To what? We haven’t exactly named the album.”

You all frowned. Then Deacy shook his head. “To the album!” he said.

“To the album!” you all chorused, laughter abundant in the moments before everyone drank their champagne.

This afternoon, it had been just you and the band, because Freddie had wanted an in-celebration before he threw the actual party for the album on the first night of the tour. But this afternoon gathering also had other significance: today was Reid’s deadline for when the name of the album had to be decided.

And by the time you left Freddie’s place at five that evening, a film had been watched, and a decision had been made.

The name of the album was to be as rivetingly dramatic and as magnificently opulent as the name of Queen.

The album was to be called A Night At The Opera.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The wind was a character in itself, and the sky was weary with the plethora of grey clouds it carried, but it was not raining.

You noticed, because you wanted to remember. You wanted to remember everything about today, the day you set off for Liverpool. With Queen.

You were going on tour.

With Queen.

It hadn’t really sunk in yet. Still, it was happening, because you were walking from the Underground to the tour bus pickup point, which was by one of the studios Queen had been using to record the album.

You had packed light— a minimal array of clothes that would last you a while, being mixed and matched and reused until a washing machine could be located; some essential toiletries; a few well-loved books; your messenger bag; your guitar.

You’d dressed in your warmest, heaviest clothes from the beginning, layering as your mum had always taught you to do.

Your mum. She’d rung you last night.

“And you promise me you’ll call?” she’d said, as though she were in some dramatic film about her daughter leaving on some risky adventure, during which all the characters in the movie learn emotional maturity through a montage of artistically-shot scenes.

You’d sighed, every bit the exasperated daughter. “I’ve promised you before, mum. You know I always keep my word.”

But the dramatic film analogy had indeed borne a grain of truth. This was an adventure, and it was risky.

Money wasn’t something you’d brought much of, because it wasn’t something you had much of. Queen were already covering your expenses as far as food and lodging, and you hadn’t wanted to bother your parents for any money, given how you were already letting them down a little in postponing the completion of your astrophysics degree.

But, as ineloquent as the phrase was, this tour was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

How many people would be able to look back on their life and say, ‘yes, I went on a world tour with a rock ‘n’ roll band’? So few. So few that it was almost saddening that you were getting the chance to do something like this, while so many others would never.

And to think that you’d almost not come along.

Brian was leaning against the tour bus, a book held elegantly before his face as he rested his elbow on his other arm, which was wrapped around his upper body. He looked cold, with windburn colouring his cheeks, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, and his arm was likely wrapped around him more for warmth than in support of the book.

He lowered the novel as you approached, a lovely smile already on his face.

“Morning!” he said brightly.

“Shh,” you chided. “It’s three AM, Brian.”

“Ah, yes,” Brian nodded, his face serious. “No decent people have got up yet.”

“What does that make us?” you laughed.

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Indecent,” he winked.

You’d thought there was only so many times that Brian May could make you blush, but here you were again, blushing like you were five years old, instead of twenty-five.

“Not on my bus, you’re not,” said Freddie to Brian, hopping down off of the tour bus.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Fred.”

“I think you should be directing your chastity comments toward Roger and Heather, Freddie,” you said, nodding in the direction of the two shadowy figures that had been approaching, only to stop in the middle of the empty road to have a snog.

Freddie wrinkled his nose. “Yes indeed. We may need some ground rules.”

Deacy stuck his head out of the bus. “ROGER! No shagging on the bus!”

“Shhh!” you and Brian and Freddie cried all at once.

“Three o’clock in the morning, everyone,” you said. “Three o’clock.”

“Now that, dearie,” Freddie raised a finger, “reminds me. I’m going back to sleep.”

He mounted the steps to the bus once more, and disappeared inside.

“Me too, I think,” said John, blinking tired eyes before following Freddie back onto the bus.

Tucking his book into the folds of his coat, Brian turned to you. “Can I give you a hand with that?” he nodded to your suitcase.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He took your suitcase and loaded it onto the bus, and offered to take your guitar as well, until Roadie-John turned up and muttered something about being put out of a job, confiscating your guitar from Brian.

Brian widened his eyes at you, and the two of you boarded the bus before you could offend any more roadies at far too early of an hour.

“By the way,” Brian said as he held the door open for you, “I like your scarf.”

You tugged on the end of the rainbow garment. “I wonder why.”

Inside, Roger and Heather had arrived and were sitting in a booth by the window, flicking through polaroids. Mary was there too, and she smiled sleepily at you and Brian as you entered, her eyes only half-focussed on the magazine in her lap.

Freddie and Deacy had each drawn the curtains of their bunks. From the sounds of snoring that drifted from their direction, it was obvious that they’d both already fallen asleep again. You envied their ability to slip into unconsciousness so quickly; sleep did not come easily to you, these days.

Brian seemed to think the same thing. “Lucky bastards,” he muttered, “falling asleep like that.”

“Treacherous,” you agreed, and Brian smiled at you. But then you yawned, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Am I to expect your betrayal as well?” he said.

You shook your head. “No, just my annoyingness as a travel partner. Chances are I’ll just yawn for hours and never have anything come of it.”

But Brian frowned thoughtfully. “Exactly what time did you go to bed last night?”

You winced, remembering the late hour. In fact, it wasn’t many hours ago at all. “Midnight,” you responded sheepishly.

“Midnight?” said Brian. “You’re worse than me! Go on,” he ushered you toward a pair of seats, “sit down, have a rest. Even if you can’t sleep, it’s good to close your eyes for a bit.”

“Says the insomniac,” you retorted, albeit half-heartedly. You really were rather tired. You slid into the narrow gap, taking the window seat, and Brian sat down beside you. “You know how hard it is to keep your eyes shut when they don’t want to be.”

Brian smiled, and you knew he empathised. “All the same. Less than three hours of sleep, Y/N. That’s quite bad.”

You sighed. “I know, I know.”

Soon, Roadie-John, Crystal, and Ian Brown, who was to be managing the UK leg of the tour, boarded, and with the driver in his seat, the bus rolled out of Osborn Street and onto the main road.

“Think I’ll try reading,” you said, pulling out the book at the top of the pile in your bag. Brian shrugged off his coat, folding it in his lap and retrieving his paperback from one of the inner pockets.

He looked at his book, and then at yours, and then back at his again.

“What is it?”

“We could just have brought the one copy and shared it,” he said, “saved that packing space.” A goofy grin was on his face as he waved his copy of Steppenwolf, the very same book you held in your hands.

“Oh! You like Hermann Hesse?”

“He’s my favourite author,” said Brian, and the same stupid grin he’d worn before appeared on your own face.

“Good taste,” you told him, covering a yawn.

Crystal dimmed the overhead lights. “I’m going to sleep,” he announced to no one in particular, and as you looked around, you found that, with the exception of the driver, you and Brian were the only ones left awake.

“Well then,” Brian said in the darkness, “there’s not really any good light to read by.”

You snorted. “If you’re trying to convince me to go to sleep, you’re failing miserably.”

Wordlessly, Brian slid his book into the seat pocket in front of him, then eased your bag from your lap and the book from your hands, setting your bag on the floor and the book into its own seat pocket. He lifted his coat from his own lap and draped it over you, tucking it in around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I’ve nothing more to offer you,” he said softly, as the lights of the city swept over his face through the uncovered window.

And yet he’d given you everything he had. Selflessly, without a thought, though the morning was cold and he still had not warmed from standing outdoors in the wake of the wind.

The simple gesture filled you with such an adoration that you had no way to express it.

You shuffled closer to him and laid his coat across you both, then settled your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Brian.”

He leaned his head against yours, and you were reminded of the night at Ridge Farm.

You sighed quietly, cuddling into his side. You fought to keep your eyes open, but you were so tired, and Brian was so warm.

“Go to sleep and dream again,” he murmured sweetly, and your eyelids felt a thousand times heavier than before.

“What if I miss something?” you whispered, because the fear of the world passing you by was suddenly overwhelming.

Brian’s voice hummed in harmony with the peaceful silence around him. “I’ll be right here to tell you about everything when you wake up again.”

“Everything?”

“Every butterfly and every tree,” he promised. “Every hole in the road and every star in the sky.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Y/N,” Brian was shaking your shoulder gently. “Love, we’re here.”

You groaned. “M’was fimally ‘sleep,” you said.

“I know. I’ve already postponed waking you for this long, though,” he said. “The others have left. They’ve unloaded the bus.”

You sat up blearily. “Well, I should get on with it, then.”

Brian smiled. “You can sleep when you get to your hotel room. It’s not like we’ve got anything to do today, anyway, until soundcheck.”

“Well, you’ve got to tell me about everything you saw while I was asleep.”

He laughed. “Shouldn’t take too long. It was London to Liverpool, there’s not much to report.”

You passed him his coat, which had somehow migrated entirely over to you, and he passed you your bag, slipping your book back into one of the pockets.

Brian looked at you a moment, and you stared back up at him, wondering what he saw in your half-open eyes and messy hair while you were met with the sight of pretty hazel irises and immaculate curls.

He reached for the rainbow scarf and wound it around you more tightly, adjusting your jumper so that it wasn’t in the way. His touch lingered on the nape of your neck, his eyes roamed yours. His lips were rendered a dusky pink in the pale morning light.

“It’s cold in Liverpool,” he said, and slid from his seat.

Your eyes followed him as he disembarked the bus, his curls bobbing as he bent a little to avoid hitting his head on a beam.

Anyone could have seen the longingness in your stare, how you yearned to call him back, pull him to you, kiss him until he was lost for both breath and words, watch him blush the way he made you blush.

There was really nothing stopping you.

You’re my best friend.

So perhaps there was one thing stopping you.

Brian poked his head back through the door. Affection bloomed in your chest at the mere sight of him. It was sickening.

“Coming?” he asked, far too awake for seven o’clock in the morning.

“Yeah,” you said. “Coming.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: filler? call me out. it’s okay, because next week is chapter 16 :’)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @sgt-stardustkillerqueen @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair @im-an-adult-ish @ilikebigstucks @doing-albri @killer-queen-87 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @archaicmusings @cloudyyspace @annina-96 @themarchoftherainbowqueen @annajolras

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

#tina's writing #starstruck #brian may x reader #fic

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songbird-musing · 6 years ago

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Virtuoso: Chapter Three - Verses

Enjolras is Saint-Michel Academy’s brightest young composer. He runs the orchestra, the Musician’s Rights board, chairs the scholarship program, teaches free classical music to children, and is in the middle of his dissertation. He has never been anything less than a prodigy, until his teacher forces him to write a pop song.

Enter the effortlessly cool Grantaire, with his smudged eyeliner and lovely guitar-playing fingers. He really digs Enjolras’ “vibe,” whatever that means.

There's wooing, and revelry, and all sorts of things that don't quite suit Enjolras' sensibilities.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Verses

“So, are you conducting at any upcoming concerts?” Grantaire asked, lit only by a flickering outdoor lamp.

“Not anything official... I’m performing a cello solo and some ensemble stuff at the showcase next week, though,” their faces were blistered by the heat from the tea.

“Wait... What is your main instrument?” Grantaire filled his lungs with smoke, “Can you play the whole orchestra?” he joked.

“Pretty much,” Enjolras scuffed his toes against the floor, “Pushy parents...” he paused, “I’m grateful, though. I don’t know where I’d be without music.”

“Do you not think you’d have found it anyway?” Grantaire asked, eyes closed, lips parted.

“What? Music?” Enjolras tucked his hands under his jacket to warm them. “Who knows? I’d probably have ended up as a lawyer, or a banker or something.”

“What... like ninety percent of the Saint-Michel graduates?” he slumped his head to the side and traced a bird through the sky with a half-amused tilt to his mouth. “Anyway, I don’t believe that for a second. You’d have found it... it’s who you are.”

Enjolras watched him closely, mouth suddenly dry.

“Do you want...?” Grantaire asked, tilting the cigarette towards him.

“Oh no... I don’t smoke.”

“Tobacco?”

“Anything,” Enjolras answered, lungs recoiling at the scent.

“Man of strong morals,” he said, yawning slightly. “I’m afraid I have none.” He kicked the end of his cigarette into an overflowing pile. “Let’s finish this masterpiece.”

A laugh bubbled in Enjolras’ chest and burst through, clattering loudly in the patch of cobblestones.

“Grantaire,” he asked, and the boy turned around with a look in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected Enjolras to even know his name. “Why are you even at Saint-Michel’s?” He stood, hands still warming beneath his arms. “Surely there’s a contemporary school of music you could study at?”

“Um,” said Grantaire, turning slightly red. Enjolras couldn’t tell whether he was blushing, or if it were just the sunset bouncing off his cheeks. “I’m performing at the showcase next week, so maybe, if you stick around, you’ll see why.”

They stepped back inside, the air gracefully far warmer.

“What does that mean?” Enjolras asked, itching for Grantaire’s answer. “Do you play like the oboe or something?”

“You’ll see...” Grantaire lifted a corner of his mouth and Enjolras inexplicably had to drop his gaze, a strange feeling stirring in his chest. “Can’t give away all my mystery at once,” he leaned in, “My mystery is all I have going for me.”

“Very mysterious,” said Enjolras in a small voice, laugh curling the edge of his breath. His senses snapped from the moment as a shrill ringing screeched from Grantaire’s phone.

“Oh,” the sound poured from his lips like carelessly spilled water, his eyes glazed. “I didn’t realise it was so late.” He threw his phone roughly onto the bed and stretched his limbs out.

“Plans for the evening?” Enjolras asked, hovering by the keyboard, fingers longing for the keys.

“I forgot all about it...” Grantaire cursed, grabbing a fresh shirt from his wardrobe, patterned with an unexpectedly intricate Victorian design in forest green. “I could call it off...” but the words eked from him, as if cancelling his plans was not on his mind at all.

“No, of course not... Um... I’ll just...” Enjolras cleared his throat, making for his scarf. “Nice shirt.”

“It’s my wooing shirt,” Grantaire laughed, mirth smeared in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re going on a date?” Enjolras said with a smile, shouldering his coat.

Grantaire laughed again, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “A date...” he made quick work of the buttons on the shirt he was wearing. “Sure... let’s call it that.”

With a swift movement, he slithered from the material of his top and threw it onto a lump of clothing. Enjolras caught a glimpse of his russet shoulders, marked with delicate black ink and masses of freckles before he turned to the door, cheeks heating.

“I’ll head off then,” he said, blinking a little too rapidly.

“One sec,” Grantaire said, “Catch!”

Enjolras was forced to confront the image of a half-shirted Grantaire and apologised fervently, missing the memory stick soaring towards him and hearing it clatter by his feet.

“Sorry for what? I have no shame regarding the human form...” he quirked an eyebrow.

“You sound like Jehan.”

“Jehan sounds like me...They used to do life modelling for me.”

“Huh?” Enjolras gaped.

“Yeah, I have the pictures somewhere. They’re very artful... Do you want to see?”

“I feel like I would have to ask Jehan first...”

“You’re such a sweet boy,” Grantaire said in a deeply southern accent. “Didn’t you see Jehan in that exhibition where they stood naked in a forest or something?”

“Oh...” Enjolras recalled it well, “The Adam and Eve thing. It was certainly an interesting take on religious gender non-conformity...” He tilted his head, “I think they still get death threats sometimes.”

Grantaire threw his head back in a laugh, and Enjolras wished he could throw such a glorious laugh around with Grantaire’s ease.

“Hang on, I’ll show you out.” He bumped open the door with his hip, towering a myriad of plates and empty cups in his hands.

“Thanks for doing this with me,” Enjolras said, voice shatteringly polite, “Seriously, Grantaire, I’m so grateful.”

Grantaire grazed his shoulder up into a shrug and brushed Enjolras’ comment away with finesse. “Ép,” he said, slamming the dirty dishes onto the table before her. She peered up from a clunky Mac, headphones nestled in her hair. She gazed at him briefly before her eyebrows slanted downwards.

“What’s with the wooing shirt?” she asked, dragging the headphones from her ears.

“Are you going to be here all night?” he asked, grabbing an apple and sinking his teeth into it.

“Yeah...?” she said after a pause, “Ugh, don’t make me leave,” she complained, “I’m literally in the middle of producing right now.”

“No, its fine,” Grantaire’s eyes were burning hazel under the setting sun, “I’ll be back in a few hours. Just tell Claque if I find any more of his masks, or creepy merchandise in my room again, he’s banned from ever coming here again. I’ve had enough. He’s doing it on purpose now, I swear...” Grantaire looked to Enjolras with a dark shade in his gaze, “I found an ornamental dagger in my pillowcase last night,” he said in way of explanation. “It’s getting beyond weird now.”

“He does it to show affection,” Éponine said, “Like a cat.”

“That’s even worse!” Grantaire said, “Like at least ten billion times worse! Tell him there is more to life than aesthetic.”

“Try to tell that to anyone in the band, my dear,” Éponine laughed. “Well, have fun guys!”

Enjolras blinked.

“Éponine!” Grantaire hissed, shaking his head frenetically. “The shirt’s not for him.”

The moment stretched out and Éponine let out a giggle, collapsing her head onto her forearms. “Oops!” she snorted, “I totally thought you were gonna...”

“Why would I make us go all the way back to his house?” Grantaire said, smirk playing on his face, “I’m a good host, Ép. You would be kicked out.”

“This is weird...” Enjolras interjected, feeling a little flushed.

“You’re right. This is weird, and it’s all your fault,” Grantaire said, pulling a face at Éponine. “Right, I better get ready.”

With a spin, Grantaire reached their front door and presented it to Enjolras with a bow. “It has been a pleasure to work with you, Enjolras. When’s the lesson we have to perform in?”

“Monday at nine,” Enjolras said, “With Valjean.”

Grantaire groaned. “Very devious of you to tell me that at the very end... Monday at nine! Okay, okay, fine. I’ll see you then. Maybe I’ll catch you before to practise.” Grantaire’s eyes were drifting away, “Seriously, though, we should hang sometime. Courf seems really cool.”

“Oh, yeah,” Enjolras said, “He really is.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Grantaire joked. Enjolras eyed the pattern of his shirt.

“No, he is! Anyway, I don’t want to keep you... Enjoy your... thing.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire said, giving another laugh, but peering through narrowed eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” Enjolras started, “Oh sorry... just have Beethoven on my mind.”

“What?” Grantaire asked, “Well... Good luck with that?” he leant forwards and briefly embraced Enjolras, kissing the air beside his cheeks casually. “See you later. Safe travels!”

Enjolras travelled back on the metro with a strange, roiling sensation shifting in his stomach. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let the haunting melodies of Shostakovich ensnare his senses for the ride.

~*~

“House meeting!” shouted Combeferre, who perhaps called house meetings far more than necessary.

“What’s wrong now?” asked Courf with a playful groan, “Did I eat your last avocado again?”

“The issue to discuss is a certain Courfeyrac’s attendance in this household,” said Combeferre, opening his journal and scratching down a title. He flicked to another page and nodded, “You’ve been absent five out of the past seven nights...”

Courfeyrac lounged back on the sofa, letting his mass of dark curls flop over his eyes, “Sorry, dad.”

“I feel like you shouldn’t be paying full rent,” Combeferre said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But... there is a way to rectify your missteps.”

“You can tell he’s going to be the most intense teacher in five years time,” Courfeyrac said with an eye roll to Enjolras.

“No backchat,” Enjolras quipped, quietly letting his fingers drift over the strings of his harp.

The three of them laughed in tangent.

“Seriously though, you have to give an opinion on my dissertation,” Combeferre said, throwing a chunky booklet into his friend’s hands.

“No!” Courfeyrac elongated, letting the vowel ring out through the flat. “Why am I subjected to such cruel punishment for taking advantage of my youth?”

“Love you so much!” Combeferre said, giving Enjolras a roguish wink. “We’ve sorted him out,” he said in a mock whisper, ignoring Courfeyrac’s dramatic complaints. “What’s wrong, Enj?”

“Hm?” Enjolras leant his forehead against the gilded edge of his harp.

“You’re playing Tchaikovsky again.”

“What does that mean?” Enjolras sighed, stilling his fingers.

“Darling,” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, “The last time you looked this mopey was when I said I didn’t like Bach that much.”

Enjolras instantly frowned. “You should be expelled from Saint-Michel’s, you heathen.”

“Stop deflecting,” Combeferre interjected, “Do I have to call the second house meeting of the night?”

“Do you guys think I’m not living in the student life as much as I could be?”

“Absolutely,” Courf said.

“One thousand percent,” Combeferre added, “But since when have you wanted to act like a student?”

“Has that nasty boy Grantaire been corrupting you?” Courfeyrac asked, “I’ll be having words with him.”

“I think you might have a chance with him,” Enjolras tilted his head, watching the flare of interest in Courfeyrac’s eyes.

“Nah,” he said after a moment, “It would break Jehan and I’s agreement. No sharing.”

Enjolras licked his cracked lips and his eyebrows folded. “Jehan and Grantaire...? They were a thing?”

Courfeyrac laughed lazily. “You know Jehan... Free love... There’s literally no-one in that circle that Jehan hasn’t slept with... Well, apart from Gueulemer... he’s painfully straight. We’re both trying to see who can crack him.”

“You’re awful, Courf,” Combeferre said, “Leave the poor heterosexual alone.”

“Are you going out tomorrow night, Courf?” Enjolras asked, the words tasting brassy on his tongue.

“Dunno,” he turned his wide-eyed gaze to Combeferre, “Can I go out tomorrow, dad, please?”

Combeferre grimaced. “Stop calling me dad.”

“Daddy says yes,” Courf said with an exaggerated wink.

“House meeting!” Combeferre shouted, mirth in his eyes, “The issue on the table: never do that again.” He shut his notebook and stalked away.

“Well, I’ll come with you.”

“Ooh, Enjolras!” Courfeyrac said, scandalised, “On a school night as well! You little rebel!”

~*~

After university the next day, Enjolras contemplated himself in the mirror, red shirt as stark as blood against his skin. He buttoned it to the top, but unfastened the button closest to his neck. He imagined calling it his ‘wooing shirt’ to literally anybody and almost turned as scarlet as the material. With a glimpse at his alarm, he noticed the lateness of the hour and snapped at Courfeyrac to hurry up.

“Me?” Courfeyrac gaped, “I’ve been ready for the past four hours,” he exaggerated, still shirtless and barefoot. “I’m not the one raunchily exposing a slither of neck and blushing at myself.”

“That’s not-” Enjolras blushed, “That wasn’t what I was doing!”

“Gosh! I’ve heard that Enjolras is a floozy, you know?” Courf called to no one in particular, “I once caught a glimpse of his ankles!”

“His ankles?!” Combeferre called from a distant room, sounding aghast.

“You both are the worst,” Enjolras said, still flushed. Courfeyrac grinned and ruffled a hand through Enjolras’ mass of blonde curls.

“Come on, you harlot,” he tiptoed to smack an affectionate kiss to Enjolras’ cheek, “We have some revelry to revel in.”

By Courfeyrac’s standards, revelry was measured in how blisteringly high one could become.

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” he drawled, after they had arrived at the party, passing a joint to Jehan, arm crossing over Enjolras’ chest as he did so. “I just think that if the moon was real then it wouldn’t be such a symbol of mystery... I’m just saying... who looks at the moon and isn’t a little bit creeped out?”

“You get creeped out by the moon?” Joly asked, head resting on Musichetta’s lap.

“Like...” said Courf, eyes drifting shut, “Like just a tiny bit...” a small cough rattled in his throat, “I just don’t trust it.”

“I think the moon is lovely,” Jehan said. Joly peered up and shared an eye-roll with Enjolras. Joly was the first violinist in the Saint-Michel orchestra, and had dealt with the whole bunch of orchestral stoners more than Enjolras had had the will to.

“You think everything is lovely, Jehan,” Enjolras said. Jehan looked at him with starry, brown eyes and slumped against the column of his neck.

Then, amidst the smoke haze of the room, time seemed to unfold far quicker than it usually did, and Jehan had led Enjolras to their room, to show him the life paintings Grantaire had mentioned.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, head a little fuzzy, “Very artful... he said they were.” The pictures captured Jehan as they looked in the current moment, lazy-eyed and oozing contentedness. “They’re incredible, Jehan.”

“Tell Grantaire... he was the one who did the hard work.”

Enjolras was not sure what came over him, but he ducked his head and felt the edge of Jehan’s lip between his own. He felt a hand leap to the back of his head, and the warm curl of fingers lace themselves through his hair. Jehan’s lips feel like a revolution – Enjolras had never kissed someone so well versed in the art of kissing. The lips on his neck made him gasp for air. He contemplated how long it had been since the skin of his neck had been worshipped so... too long. A year ago with the pretentious cellist that was too attractive for words, (Enjolras had called it off when the sex had been the only part that didn’t bore him half to death.)

“Jehan,” he mouthed, feeling mind-spinningly blissful. His hand dropped to Jehan’s waist, feeling for a seam of material. His fingers searched blindly, tracing the edge of Jehan’s hips, increasingly frantic. Enjolras broke away with a tut and stared at Jehan’s attire.

“It’s a romper,” Jehan said in explanation. Then, as Enjolras moved his hands to the zip on Jehan’s back, they said, “What are you doing, Enjolras?” Enjolras pressed his lips to Jehan’s collarbone, who laughed breathily and batted his head away. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m looking for my wilder side,” Enjolras said, eyes dark.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Jehan said lightly, “I thought this was just a friendly make-out session.”

“You sleep with everyone,” Enjolras said, drawing back and resenting the whine that had infiltrated into his tone. In lieu of offense, Jehan merely snorted with a grin.

“Look, I’m down for casual flings aplenty, but you, my friend, are not.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“No,” Jehan shrugged, “You wouldn’t be here if you were.”

“That makes no sense,” Enjolras frowned, “Your pseudo-deep doesn’t work on me.”

“Come on, Enj,” Jehan said, patting Enjolras good-naturedly on the chest, “If you actually wanted a hook-up, you wouldn’t have come to the one person you thought would never turn you down... I’m sorry, but I am just not dealing with the emotional nonsense you are sure to bring.”

“What?” he gaped, mouth dropping open.

“You’re a drama queen, Enjolras – you can’t even deny it...” they smiled, “Let’s not do this.” Jehan tucked the sketches back into place and stretched out their arms. “Wow,” they said with a hazy blink, “I am too high right now.”

“You always are,” muttered Enjolras.

“Don’t get grumpy with me, darling,” Jehan said, “I still love you.”

Enjolras flushed a little, still not as open with his words as Jehan could be. “Yeah, and I love you as well. Besides, I’m not grumpy with you, I’m grumpy with myself.”

“Enjolras,” Jehan tutted, “Don’t mope... I can shower you with positive affirmations, if you’d like... You’re the loveliest boy I’ve ever met, anyone would be blessed to have you, and you’re as beautiful as the sun itself... I am at once blinded by you yet cannot take my eyes from you... happy now?”

Enjolras couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his mouth. Jehan laughed and pressed a friendly kiss to his lips.

“Ugh, I’m so embarrassed,” Enjolras said, covering his face.

“About what?” Jehan said, smile lazy, “I’m so high, I’ve forgotten already.”

11 notes · View notes

astrogeoguy · 6 years ago

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Meteors Mount, Gas Giants in Evening, and Touring the Triangle and Celestial Critters!

(Above: Albireo is the beautiful double star that marks the head of Cygnus the Swan!)

Hello, Summer Stargazers!

Here are your Astronomy Skylights for the week of July 28th, 2019 by Chris Vaughan. Feel free to pass this along to your friends and send me your comments, questions, and suggested topics. I repost these emails with photos at http://astrogeoguy.tumblr.com/ where all the old editions are archived. You can also follow me on Twitter as @astrogeoguy! Unless otherwise noted, all times are Eastern Time. Please click this MailChimp link to subscribe to these emails.

I can bring my Digital Starlab inflatable planetarium to your school or other daytime or evening event. Contact me, and we’ll tour the Universe together!

Meteor Shower Update

The Southern Delta Aquariids meteor shower runs annually from July 21 to August 23. It is caused by the Earth passing through a cloud of tiny particles dropped by a periodic comet – likely Comet 96P/Machholtz. The shower peaked before dawn this morning (Sunday, July 28), but is quite active for a week surrounding that date. This shower commonly generates 15-20 meteors per hour at the peak, but is best seen from the southern tropics, where the shower’s radiant, in Aquarius (the Water-Bearer), is positioned higher in the sky. The waning crescent moon on the weekend should not adversely affect the shower very much.

The prolific Perseid Meteor Shower runs from July 13 through August 26, so keep an eye out for a few of them this week. The moon will spoils the show on the peak nights of August 12/13, so take advantage of the darker skies this week.

To increase your chances of seeing any meteors, find a dark location with lots of sky, preferably away from light polluted skies, and just look up with your unaided eyes. Binoculars and telescopes are not useful for meteors because their fields of view are too narrow to fit the streaks of meteor light. Don’t watch the radiant. Any meteors near there will have very short trails because they are travelling towards you. Try not to look at your phone’s bright screen – it’ll ruin your night vision. And keep your eyes heavenward, even while you are chatting with companions. I’ll write more about meteors in the coming weeks. For now, happy hunting!

The Moon and Planets

Keep that telescope handy - the first half of this week will feature dark evening skies worldwide. Late on Wednesday, the moon will pass the sun - giving us a second new moon in July, and then our natural satellite will return to grace the western evening sky after sunset to end the week. Here are this week’s Skylights!

If you are out under the stars before dawn on Monday, you’ll see a pretty crescent moon in the eastern sky, between the toes of Gemini (the Twins) and the upraised club of Orion (the Hunter). Yes – those winter constellations will return to view before we know it! On Tuesday morning, the moon will be lower, and closer to the sun.

The moon will first return to view, positioned low over the northwestern horizon, shortly after sunset on Thursday evening. For the rest of the week, the moon’s delicate crescent will grow and the moon will set later – passing through the stars of Leo (the Lion) and landing a few finger widths to the right (celestial west) of the medium-bright star Porrima in Virgo (the Maiden) on Sunday evening. Viewed in a backyard telescope, Porrima splits into a lovely double star - but I recommend waiting until next spring to view it. At that time it will be higher in the sky.

(Above: The southern evening sky at 10 pm local time.)

With the moon away, Jupiter is the brightest object in the early evening sky. After dusk, look for it gleaming in the southwestern sky. It will set in the west after 2 am local time. On a typical night, even a backyard telescope will show you Jupiter’s two main equatorial stripes and its four Galilean moons, named Io, Europa, Callisto, and Ganymede. The moons always form a rough line flanking the planet. If you see fewer than four, then some are in front of Jupiter, or hidden behind it.

From time to time, the small, round black shadows cast by the Galilean moons become visible in amateur telescopes as they cross (or transit) Jupiter’s disk. After midnight on Saturday night, Io’s shadow will start to transit the northern part of Jupiter at 12:44 am. Unfortunately, Jupiter will set in the Eastern Time Zone before its passage is complete; but observers farther west can watch the entire event.

Due to Jupiter’s rapid 10-hour rotation period, the Great Red Spot (or GRS) is only observable from Earth every 2nd or 3rd night, and only during a predictable three-hour window. The GRS will be easiest to see using a medium-sized, or larger, aperture telescope on an evening of good seeing (steady air). If you’d like to see the Great Red Spot in your telescope, it will be crossing the planet tonight (Sunday evening) from dusk to 11 pm EDT, on Tuesday night from 10:52 pm to 12:30 am EDT, on Thursday from 11 pm to 2:30 am EDT, and after dusk on Friday and Sunday. I posted a calendar of Jupiter’s doings here.

Yellow-tinted Saturn will remain visible from dusk until almost dawn this month. The ringed planet’s position in the sky is just to the upper left (celestial east) of the stars that form the teapot-shaped constellation of Sagittarius (the Archer). Saturn is quite a bit dimmer than Jupiter. To find it, look about 3 fist diameters to the lower left (east) of Jupiter. Dust off your telescope! Once the sky is dark, even a small telescope will show Saturn's rings and several of its brighter moons, especially Titan! Because Saturn’s axis of rotation is tipped about 27° from vertical (a bit more than Earth’s axis), we can see the top surface of its rings, and its moons can appear above, below, or to either side of the planet. During this week, Titan will migrate counter-clockwise around Saturn, moving from the upper right of Saturn tonight (Sunday) to the lower left of the planet next Sunday. (Remember that your telescope will flip the view around.)

For night owls, tiny blue Neptune is in the southeastern pre-dawn sky, among the stars of Aquarius (the Water-Bearer). The planet will be rising before 10 pm local time this week. You’ll find the magnitude 7.8 Neptune sitting a thumb’s width to the left (east) of a medium-bright star named Phi (φ) Aquarii. The planet is actually moving slowly toward that star!

Blue-green Uranus will be rising at about midnight local time this week. It is sitting below the stars of Aries (the Ram) and is just a palm’s width above the head of Cetus (the Whale). At magnitude 5.8, Uranus is bright enough to see in binoculars under dark skies.

Venus is above the east-northeastern sky, barely bright enough to see within the pre-dawn twilight sky that surrounds it. Sinking ever-closer to the rising sun, Venus will be rising at about 5:30 am local time all week. By the end of this week, Mercury will be easier to see than Venus. The swift, innermost planet is climbing away from the sun. Your best opportunity to see it will be at at about 5:30 am local time.

A Summer Triangle Tour

When you are out on the next clear night, be sure to look for the three bright and beautiful blue-white stars of the Summer Triangle asterism, which shines high in the eastern sky in late July and early August. Once you have it identified, you can find some treasures within it, and follow its progress across the night sky until it finally disappears in late fall.

(Above: The evening eastern sky features the Summer Triangle formed by the stars Vega, Deneb, and Altair. The Milky Way passes through it.)

Find an open area and face east. The very bright star Vega will be almost straight over your head. It’s the fifth brightest star in the entire night sky and one of the first stars to appear after dusk. Now look for the other two corners of the triangle. Altair, not as bright as Vega, sits about 3.5 outstretched fist diameters (34°) to the lower right of it. The third star, Deneb, is about 2.5 fist diameters (24°) to the lower left of Vega, and is higher up than Altair. It’s a very big triangle!

Can you see the four fainter stars forming a small, upright parallelogram just below Vega? That shape is about a thumb’s width wide and a few finger widths tall. This box is the body of the musical harp that makes up the constellation of Lyra (the Lyre). Vega marks the top of the instrument’s neck. Vega’s visual magnitude, or brightness, is the zero reference point for the scale we use to define stars’ brightness values. Objects brighter than Vega have values lower than zero, and vice versa. Antares, the reddish star near Jupiter this summer, has a value of about 1, making it 2.5 times dimmer than Vega. (It’s a logarithmic scale.)

(Above: A detailed view of Lyra, the Harp. The constellation features many double stars, including the Double Double, located a finger’s width from Vega)

Vega also forms a little triangle with two other dim stars, each about a finger’s width apart. The star to Vega’s upper left is Epsilon Lyrae, also known as the Double Double. Can you tell it’s actually two stars crammed tightly together? Try using binoculars. When magnified in a telescope, each star splits again!

Deneb marks the tail of great Cygnus (the Swan). Look for a modest star sitting about two fist diameters (22°) to the right of Deneb. That’s Albireo, a colourful double star that marks the swan’s head. (I like to think of Albireo as the centre of doc Brown’s flux capacitor. The Summer Triangle stars are the gadget’s corners!) Albireo was given a single star name before telescopes revealed that there were two stars there!

A widely spaced string of medium-bright stars aligned up-down traces out the swan’s wings. (Look closer to Deneb than Albireo for them – swans have long necks!) The brighter star in the middle of the wing span is Sadr, marking the swan’s belly. If you are in a dark location, you should also be able to see that the Milky Way runs right through Cygnus, as if she is about to land for a swim on that celestial river!

The most southerly of the triangle’s corners is marked by Altair – the head of the great eagle Aquila. In fact, its name translates from “the flying eagle”. At only 16.8 light-years distance, Altair is one of the nearest bright stars – so close that its surface has been imaged! The star also seems to be spinning 100 times faster than our sun, probably generating an equatorial bulge. Like Cygnus, the Aquila the eagle is oriented with its wingtips up-down. The tail bends to the lower right. Two little stars named Terazed (above) and Alshain (below) sit on either side of Altair, like a balance. As a matter of fact, those two little stars’ names derive from an old-fashioned scale balance.

Grab your binoculars and look about midway between Vega and Altair for a little grouping of stars called The Coathangar. (Hint: For North American observers, it’s oriented with the hook downwards to the right.) Finally, have a look for two little constellations in the area. Sagitta (the Arrow) comprises five faint stars running left-right, above Altair. The three on the right (west) end form the feathers. Below Sagitta, and about 1.3 fist diameters (13°) to the left of Altair is cute little Delphinus (the Dolphin). Four stars form a diamond-shaped body and another star to the lower of that right marks the tail flukes! The star names for Delphinus include a very interesting story. Look it up!

There’s one more small constellation inside the Summer Triangle, but its dim stars make it difficult to make out. It’s called Vulpecula (the Fox), and it sits about a palm’s width above and parallel to Sagitta. I’ll post a star chart for the entire area here. Two birds, a dolphin, and a fox! (And – there’s the lizard Lacerta just to the east and a little foal Equuleus below Delphinus!) Enjoy your tour of the triangle and visit to this celestial zoo!

(Above: The Summer Triangle neighbourhood includes a dolphin, a fox, a foal, and a lizard.)

Touring the Dark July Southern Sky

If you missed last week’s tour through the scorpion, the teapot, and the shield, I posted it with sky charts here.

Public Astro-Themed Events

Taking advantage of dark, moonless evening skies this week, astronomers with the RASC Toronto Centre will gather for dark sky stargazing at Long Sault Conservation Area, northeast of Oshawa on (only) the first clear evening (Monday to Thursday) this week. You don’t need to be a RASC member, or own any equipment, to join them. Check here for details and watch the banner on their homepage or their Facebook page for the GO or NO-GO decision around 5 pm each day.

Every Monday evening, York University’s Allan I. Carswell Observatory runs an online star party - broadcasting views from four telescopes/cameras, answering viewer questions, and taking requests! Details are here. On Wednesday nights they offer free public viewing through their rooftop telescopes. If it’s cloudy, the astronomers give tours and presentations. Details are here.

At 8:30 pm on Wednesday, July 31, the High Park Nature Centre will host a free public Urban Bat Walk followed by stargazing (weather permitting). Check here for details.

On Thursday, August 1, starting at 11 am, U of T’s AstroTour planetarium show will be a Kids Summer Break Show. Find tickets and details here.

On Thursday, August 1, starting at 9 pm, U of T’s AstroTour will present a talk entitled A Brief History of Everything, followed by stargazing and a planetarium show. Find tickets and details here.

Eastern GTA sky watchers are invited to join the RASC Toronto Centre and Durham Skies for solar observing and stargazing at the edge of Lake Ontario in Millennium Square in Pickering on Friday evening, August 2, from 6 pm to 11 pm. Details are here. Before heading out, check the RASCTC home page for a Go/No-Go call in case it's too cloudy to observe. The rain date is Saturday.

On Friday, August 2, starting at 7 pm, U of T’s AstroTour planetarium show will be Grand Tour of the Cosmos. Find tickets and details here.

The next RASC Family Night at the David Dunlap Observatory will be on Saturday, August 10. There will be sky tours in the Skylab planetarium room, space crafts, a tour of the giant 74” telescope, and viewing through lawn telescopes (weather permitting). The doors will open at 8:30 pm for a 9 pm start. Attendance is by tickets only, available here. If you are a RASC Toronto Centre member and wish to help us at DDO in the future, please fill out the volunteer form here. And to join RASC Toronto Centre, visit this page.

Keep looking up, and enjoy the sky when you do. I love questions and requests - so, send me some!

#astronomy #planets #stars #space #Summer Triangle #Lyra #Cygnus #Altair #Great Red Spot #Jupiter #Perseids Meteors

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b-sidemusic · 8 years ago

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THE B-SIDE MONDAY MEGAMIX

Every Monday one of our writers takes you on a journey into sound, armed with a picnic of musical treats in a hamper hewn from wisdom. This week, Paul Jenkins rolls out the blanket and fends off the ants.

FAINTEST IDEA – CIRCLING THE DRAIN

Signed to TNS, Kings Lynn’s finest Faintest Idea deliver feisty, downright furious ska-core. For all the anger being channeled, they also write damned good songs and are bloody good fun.

See them live at: Kingston-upon Thames Fighting Cocks, 11th Nov; High Wycombe Phoenix 17th Nov; London Camden Underworld 9th Dec; Bristol Fleece 10th Dec. Now listen to: 'Increasing The Minimum Rage', out now on TNS. Follow: Facebook - Twitter

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MATT WATSON - STORIES FROM THE SEA

I first saw Matt Watson a while back, playing solo somewhere in Norwich. Whilst I don’t normally go for solo singer/songwriters playing acoustic, there was something indefinable that grabbed my attention. Having got to know Matt relatively well since, it turns out that he is a thoroughly good chap, a fine songwriter and someone with (mostly) impeccable good musical taste. Currently working feverishly on a new LP, Matt is gigging almost continually around Norfolk and Suffolk and is well worth catching.

See him live at: Norwich Epic Studios, 23rd Nov. Now listen to: 'The Endless Shipwreck' LP, available through his website. Follow: Facebook - Twitter

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SINK YA TEETH - GLASS

Maria, formerly of Girl In A Thunderbolt, and Gemma have been performing as Sink Ya Teeth for a couple of years but are already making waves. Better people than me have described them as “making minimal-maximal post punk pop from their bedrooms” and “the Raincoats produced by Mr Fingers”. And I can’t come up with anything better than that!

See them live at: Glasgow Stereo, 31st Oct; Manchester Gorilla, 1st Nov; London Camden Electric Ballroom 2nd Nov; Norwich Waterfront 6th Nov; London Social, 4th Dec. Now listen to: 'Glass' single, out now, via Bandcamp. Follow: Facebook - Twitter

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HYDRA LERNA - CLEAN LIKE YOU

A graduate of local hero Annie Catwoman’s Sonic Youths program, Abigail Blake has gone from being just another acoustic singer-songwriter to the genuinely exciting electronic pop of her Hydra Lerna alter-ego in a short time. As a budding producer/engineer, she does all the studio work, writing and programming, topping it all off with sparkling voice and harp.

See her live at: No shows scheduled at the moment (but surely there will be something soon…) Now listen to: Clean Like You, download via her website. Follow: Facebook - Twitter

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LAST GREAT DREAMERS - DOPE SCHOOL

I’ll declare an interest here: I’ve been mates with two of the four dreamers in Last Great Dreamers for over two and a half decades. I roadie, drive and sell merch for them. Much as I love ‘em as people, I am putting this on here because I also love their music, irrespective of the personal relationships. This is rock, straight from the garage, drenched in powerpop, glam and old school punk and all the better for it. There is a Pledge campaign to fund a new album, if you fancy seeking it out.

See them live at: Wolverhampton Giffard Arms, 1st Dec; Croydon Rocks Festival 2nd Dec; Birmingham Asylum, 17th Dec; Islington O2 Academy, 22nd Dec. Now listen to: ‘Transmissions From Oblivion’, vinyl/CD/download, via their website. Follow: Facebook- Twitter

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MEGA EMOTION - OK MAYBE OK

Ah, the shambolic wonder that is Mega Emotion. Fixtures in the Norwich scene since I returned to the city in 2011, Mega Emotion write strikingly good songs. Theirs is an experimental music that is equal parts pure pop and industrial rock.

See them live at: Norwich Open, 31st Oct; London Lexington, 26th Nov. Now listen to: ‘Sick Burn’ single, via Bandcamp. Follow: Facebook - Twitter

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MAGOO - CALL OUT THE CRASH SQUAD

2017 has seen the mighty Magoo celebrate their 20th anniversary. They may not gig as much as they did in the past, the gaps between new releases may be getting longer but the frankly brilliant 20th anniversary show at Norwich Arts Centre showed just how relevant this lot still are. The band promise that new music is on its way, and that is a good thing. In the meantime, there is a serious back catalogue to investigate.

See them live at: Not currently touring. Now listen to: The entire back catalogue, there is too much to list! Follow: Facebook- Twitter

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HOT RAISIN - WHISKY GINGER (LIVE)

Americana from East Anglia? Surely that will be shite? Erm, no, actually. Along with the likes of Yarmouth’s Feral Mouth, Hot Raisin take music that is rooted in the rural USA, keep the spirit of the best country, avoid the pitfalls of the worst and make something that is soulful, spirited and, well, just thoroughly enjoyable.

See them live at: Norwich Flamingo, 15th Nov. Now listen to: ‘Whisky Ginger’ EP, via Bandcamp. Follow: Facebook- Twitter

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WOODEN ARMS – LOST IN YOUR OWN HOME

How to sum up Wooden Arms? I dunno, but “like Montreal’s Constellation Collective (Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Esmerine et al) covering Talk Talk” kinda sums it up. This is far from the noisy rock that I normally go for but Wooden Arms produce beguilingly beautiful, orchestral chamber-pop.

See them live at: Cambridge Portland Arms, 13th Dec; Norwich Open, 14th Dec; London Lexington, 16th Dec. Now listen to: ‘Trick of the Light’ LP, out now on Fierce Panda. Follow: Facebook - Twitter

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BLOODY KNEES - MAYBE IT’S EASY

I first saw Cambridge’s Bloody Knees a good while back, playing with Dingus Khan at Olive’s, a cafe/deli in Norwich with no stage and little experience in putting on shows like this. At the time, they were a decent punk-pop band. Since then, I’ve seen ‘em a few times and, having found their own sound and identity, they’ve just got better and better.

See them live at: Brighton Komedia, 1st Nov; Camden Assembly, 2nd Nov; Bristol Old England, 4th Nov; Hull Polar Bear, 7th Nov; Glasgow Broadcast, 8th Nov; Leeds Headrow House, 9th Nov; Sheffield Picture House Social, 10th Nov. Now listen to: ‘Maybe It’s Easy’ EP, on Soundcloud. Follow: Facebook - Twitter

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RATS AS BIG AS DOGS - PRINT

If Rats As Big As Dogs have not split up (and I am fairly sure they have), they are certainly on a lengthy hiatus. So why include this? It is on the ‘This Was The Sound Of Sugar Town’ compilation which is both brilliant and in aid of a very worthwhile cause, and it is also utterly bloody brilliant. Jay, Reuben, Shannon and George have all been involved in other things but may rarely if ever top this.

See them live at: No chance. Now listen to: ‘This Was The Sound Of Sugar Town’ download LP, via Bandcamp. Follow: Facebook

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Photo: Sink Ya Teeth by Joanna Millington

#monday megamix #playlist #playlists #paul jenkins #faintest idea #matt watson #sink ya teeth #hydra lerna #last great dreamers #mega emotion #magoo #hot raisin #wooden arms #bloody knees #rats as big as dogs

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