#I still enjoyed it far more than say 1984 or Into the Wild (both were required readings for me in past English classes) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mystic-oneshots · 4 years

Text

Wedding favour (Jumin x MC)

I made a playlist on Spotify of songs that remind me of Jumin which lead me to writing this fic. I could imagine Jumin going all out with organising a performance of a love song from a playlist they share! I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1984

Jumin sat at his desk with his head in his hands. Trying to juggle work, RFA party preparations, and on top of those, the planning process for his wedding to his fiancée was becoming a little too much. He insisted on helping MC with everything so she wouldn't have to feel the stress herself, but he didn't quite realize how much it was going to impact him.

His biggest concern was finding someone to perform at the wedding. This was a surprise he was planning behind MC's back, which he was trying his hardest to keep on the down-low. Not even his assistant knew about this! It would be a simple task to get Assistant Kang to research some singers on his behalf, but it was that important to him that he had to find someone himself.

His mind raced with thoughts on what to do. He had the perfect idea of execution in his head: It would be done during the reception dinner, just after the speeches are all done, where he would surprise her with a live performance of a love song. A love song that meant a lot to both of them. A song that they would frequently play from their shared playlist. A song that they danced to around the penthouse whilst it played. In his head it was perfect. He just needed to make that dream into a reality. Not only for himself but for his future wife.

A sudden idea came to mind. What would make this even more personal would be to get someone they both know to perform! And Jumin had one person in mind.

Jumin reached for his phone sat next to a pile of documents and opened the messenger. One person was online: Zen. Just the person he was looking for.

And with a tap of his screen, he was gone. In a way, a small weight had been lifted from his heavy shoulders. It hasn't even been confirmed that Zen would help, but Jumin knew deep down that some part of Zen wouldn't resist this opportunity.

He's a close friend to MC and he cares for her. Jumin even envied the friendship they have on the odd occasion, but he knew in his heart no matter how close they were, it was just as friends. And he respected that.

A couple of hours passed before the young heir heard a loud knock on his office door. He got up from his chair, adjusting his three-piece suit before heading towards the door. He took a deep breath in to prepare himself. A small part of him was nervous about making such a request to Zen.

When he opened the door he was greeted by his assistant, with Zen stood only inches behind her looking a little uncomfortable.

"Mr. Han, I can only presume you asked Zen to come here. May I ask why?" Jaehee asked with a perplexed tone and expression. Jumin's face was forced to be stoic. He did not want anyone knowing his plan.

"It's a private matter. I'm sorry but I can only discuss it with him." Jumin coldly replies. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zen's eyebrows furrow and his eyes narrow.

"Very well sir. I shall leave you two to talk." Jaehee bowed and moved aside to let Zen enter the office. She walked away silently to resume her work.

Jumin gestured for Zen to sit on one of the seats positioned in front of his desk. The silver-haired actor cautiously made his way over to a chair, his confusion of the situation growing bigger by the second.

An awkward silence flooded the executive director's office. The tension between the two young men would refuse to settle as they couldn't comfortably keep their distance from each other.

Jumin positioned himself in front of his desk, leaning his frame and hands against the dark mahogany. His gaze was focused on the floor in front of him. He bit his lip, trying desperately to figure out how to start a conversation with the other man. His fingers traced the wooden texture of the desk as he focused on what to say. Jumin had never been this frozen when talking to someone. Maybe because he was asking for something related to his beloved fiancée?

"So... Are you going to explain why you wanted to talk to me in private?" Zen restlessly inquired, his tone was somewhat annoyed.

Jumin's head jolted up to look at Zen's. His eyes wider than usual, as if he was pulled out from a trance.

"Oh, Right" Jumin cleared his throat. He moved behind his desk to look in a drawer for a small notebook.

"You know, this is just as uncomfortable for me as it is for you!" The actor pointed out. Jumin shot a bitter grin in his direction as he grabbed the book from within the drawer.

"Thank you for that statement," Jumin mumbled as he returned to stand near the actor again. "Anyway, I need you to promise not to tell anyone about what we're about to discuss. Even if you decide not to help, you cannot say anything! Alright?"

"Alright! Just tell me what you need!" Zen crossed his arms over his chest in frustration as he leaned back into the chair.

"I have heard from multiple sources that not only are you a good actor, but you can sing..." Jumin cleared his throat. "I have been thinking for a long time about this and the conclusion my thoughts came to was you."

Zen's face scrunched up in confusion. His red eyes narrowed as he continued to listen to what the corporate heir had to say.

"I want to do something special for MC on our wedding day."

"I'm pretty sure with everything you've given her so far would make it special enough. Seriously, dude, you spoil her too much!"

Jumin gritted his teeth at the comment. He felt anger but forced himself to remain calm. This is for MC's sake. Jumin believed that she deserved the whole world if he was able to give it to her! He did not think he was spoiling his fiancée too much at all. In fact, he felt the opposite. It felt like he wasn't doing enough for her!

"Not only special but personal!" Jumin jumped back in, catching the other man off guard with his rougher tone. He tried his hardest to hide any negative emotions that were being pulled out from inside him.

Zen was taken aback by the sudden tone. It made him reconsider what the dark-haired man would want to ask him. He felt curious.

"During the reception dinner, would you be willing to perform a song for us? As a special surprise for MC" A faint red tinted Jumin's cheeks as the thought over his plan again.

"So that's why you couldn't talk about it in the messenger..." Zen's face relaxed as he now understood Jumin's odd behaviour. "And I take it you feel that this isn't something to be talked about over the phone? That's why you asked to meet me in person?"

The businessman nodded. His hand ran across the spine of the notebook before he opened it. He took a pen from the holder on his desk and prepared himself to start writing things down. Notes were already scattered throughout the pages of the book. Many were related to his ideas for the wedding. A variety of different styles of his handwriting made the pages look cluttered and unorganized, which juxtaposed how Jumin was in person. It reflected the thoughts in his mind, however. Showing just how rampant his ideas were when it came to pleasing his fiancée.

"Do you have an idea of what you'd want me to sing? If you want me to I can also play the accompaniment." Zen asked with a fraction of a smile pulling onto his expression. It was an extremely rare occurrence for Zen to smile around Jumin. It was only because of MC that it happened. He could see how much the man in front of him loved his friend so much.

"I have made a list," Jumin stated. "It's only a small one but you can choose whatever one you feel would be most appropriate for you. I trust you'd want to pick one that would fit your singing style the best. All of these songs mean something to us so it's not a huge deal which one you choose. Let me rewrite the list for you."

His thumbs fumble around the paper to find a clean page. Referring to his notes, Jumin copied the name of each song down in neat, clear writing. Once he finished, he carefully tore out the page and handed it to Zen. The actor took it and studied the words written. Jumin couldn't tell what he was thinking. There was something about his expression that worried him.

"I'll do it."

Jumin looked at the younger man in disbelief. He couldn't quite believe what he just heard. Did he just say he'd do it?

The businessman cracked a subtle smile. Something he couldn't hide. Thoughts of his surprise plan ran wild in his head. The fact that it was going to become a reality made him excited. Imagining his fiancée's reaction gave him a childlike giddiness that only she could ever make him feel.

"Thank you, Zen. Really! You don't understand how much I appreciate this" It was odd for Jumin to talk that way to Zen. However, with his beautiful fiancée in mind, he couldn't help it. It may have made the actor uncomfortable, but it would have made the businessman feel just as bad. But it couldn't be helped. Jumin was it's so happy!

Zen forced a smile. He too felt happy but he couldn't bring himself to think that the dark-haired man could act such a way around him. He wasn't used to it, nor would he think he would ever get used to it. He would agree that it was a positive change but he couldn't wrap his head around it still.

"You know I'm doing more for MC than for you right? I still think you two are rushing things but I can see now that you care about her a lot."

"I know. There's no need for you to remind me. However, I genuinely appreciate that you'll help me out. I'm serious." Jumin's arms crossed across his chest. He was trying to remain professional when in reality, inside the excitement was becoming unbearable.

The two men wrapped up their meeting and said their farewells. Their exchanges seemed less tense. Jumin closed his office door after returning and leaned on it. His hand ran through his silky hair. A toothy smile bared his face and he chuckled to himself.

He was eager for his wedding day. He was desperate to know about the details of the wedding she's hiding from him. However, knowing he had a secret too made it easier to wait. He knew that his bride to be will love his plan as much as he does!

#jumin x mc #juminxmc #jumin #jumin han #mc x jumin #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme jumin #mysme zen #mystic messenger jumin #mysme oneshot #mysme fanfic #mysme deep story #jumin/mc #jumin x reader #cheritz

7 notes · View notes

that-little-bisexual-mess · 4 years

Text

HPHM MC Fanfiction: ‘Ada’s Adventures Series’. Part 1 : September 1st, 1984. Chapter 1 : The departure.

[So, guys, this is it. I’m finally jumping into the other side of the Fanfiction World. Always a reader, now a new writer. I’m beginning this hopefully amazing journey with a first little story about Ada’s first day at Hogwarts (For the people who don’t know Ada, here is the link to her profile template : here. And here is a link to her mother’s profile template, who is important in this chapter : here).This first part of ‘Ada’s Adventures Series’ is going to retrace this very important day in Ada’s life. And the first chapter of this first part is focusing on the moment between she wakes up and the moment she goes on the Hogwarts Express. Over the last few weeks I started to developp a lot about Ada’s full story and her family history and all that. So, writing fanfictions about her felt like the next natural step. I’m also planning to write about other members of her family. I can’t wait for you to read it, if you like that kind of stuff. Little notes tho : I’m a baby writer, so it might not be very good. If you have any advice, can you please tell me what is good and what is not so I can improve myself? Also, English is not my native language, so, if you see any mistakes, sorry about that (I’m french, and btw there are tiny little french stuff in this fic, I wanted to add some French heritage, in the language mostly, since Ada’s has French blood on her mother’s side and her mother, her brother, Jacob, and herself are fluent in french. So I hope it’s a good little addition). ANYWAY, without further ado, here is my very first written piece. I hope you’ll enjoy it!]

[Keep reading under the cut]

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

Ada Shelby, eleven years old, opened her eyes on September 1st, 1984. It took her a few minutes to remember what day it was and how important that day was. The evening before, she had had trouble finding some sleep because of how excited she was. After these few minutes during which her brain struggled to fight the lack of good sleep, she finally remembered that today, she was supposed to get on a very special train that will take her to the start of her new life. Her excitement grew again, and she jumped on her feet. She put her glasses on and looked at the clock on the wall facing her bed. 8:15 am. In less than three hours, she would be on the Hogwarts Express. Something she’s been waiting for years. She heard a knock on her door and her mother came in. Miranda Shelby was a very beautiful woman. Her blue eyes were filled with kindness and love. Her brown hair, which normally reached her shoulders, was tied in a ponytail, freeing her beautiful face from flyaways. Her warm smile, that always put joy in people’s hearts, was one of the warmest Ada ever saw. She was radiant. When she saw her daughter awake, she said:

“Good morning honey!”

“Good morning”

“Sooo? Are you excited about today?”

“Of course, I am! I already packed everything, look!” said Ada, pointing at her giant suitcase containing all of her robes and school furniture.

On top of it, an empty cage was waiting to welcome Ada’s new owl: a beautiful barn owl that she had named Merlot. She had decided to name it after the owl her maternal grandmother had once, when she was still alive. It was the owl the late French lady always used whenever she was writing to her daughter, Jacob, or Ada. The new Merlot was currently perched on the dresser next to Ada’s bed, her eyes closed.

“I finished to pack everything last night, before going to bed” continued Ada.

“Good! You’re much more prepared that I was when I first went to Hogwarts”

“Were you nervous?” asked Ada.

“A little. Mostly because I didn’t really know what to expect since Mamie went to Beauxbâtons. She talked to me a lot about it, she loved her time there. But you’ll see, Hogwarts is just as great!”

Ada nodded but didn’t say anything. She was excited to go to Hogwarts, but she was also very nervous, for multiple reasons. The first and obvious one was the unknown of a new start. The second was the reputation her brother must have left to the Shelby name. Ada didn’t understand everything that had happened, but she knew the boy had been involved in some dark stuff and had been expelled from Hogwarts with his wand being officially broken by the Ministry of Magic. And now, he was missing. Ada knew her brother and she knew he would never be involved with Dark Magic by conviction. If he did, she was sure it was because he didn’t have a choice. But the other kids didn’t know Jacob like she did, and she was afraid she would get insulted by other students or hear students insulting her brother or even her mother. She didn’t know how she would handle that. Finally, he third reason of her nervousness was that she would leave her mother all alone. Her father was killed 3 years earlier and with Jacob now missing, Miranda will have to live alone for most of the school year.

“You’re sure you’re ok, Mon Ange?” asked Miranda, replacing a wild hair behind her daughter’s ear, suddenly worried to see her daughter lost in her thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah, just a little nervous that’s all.”

Ada felt a little guilty to lie to her mother like that, but she didn’t want her to worry even more than now.

“Everything is going to be ok. You’ll see, you’ll have a great year. Actually, you’ll have seven great years!”

Ada smiled and nodded.

“Alright, we finish to get ready and we go downstairs to eat something before we go?”

“Yes!” said Ada, her excitement going up again.

Miranda smiled again before kissing her daughter’s forehead and left the room. Ada started took a shower and dressed herself. Half an hour later, she was ready. Before going out, she looked in the mirror and saw her reflection. Just like her mother’s, her brown hair reached her shoulders. Her maternal grandmother, Margot, always said that she was a spitting image of Miranda when she was young. After seeing a few pictures, Ada happily admitted that it was indeed the case. Her green eyes however, she had them from her paternal grandfather Anthony, something she was quite proud of too. She smiled a little and after checking that everything was in order, Ada started to go out of the room.

Miranda had decided that it would be better to sleep at the Leaky Cauldron in London to be closer to the King’s Cross station. Once they were both ready, they went downstairs and began to eat breakfast. For a few minutes, Ada looked at the other wizard present in the room while eating a buttered toast. Then Miranda asked:

“Do you know in which house you want to be?”

“I don’t really know. Every house has good qualities, and I personally know at least one amazing person that went to each house. You were a Ravenclaw, Ted was a Hufflepuff, Andy was a Slytherin, and Dad and Jacob were…” Ada stopped, suddenly worried to have upset her mother.

But Miranda smiled at her and completed:

“Dad and Jacob were in Gryffindor.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright without me, Mom?” Asked Ada before she could stop herself.

“Of course, I will be!” she said, stroking Ada’s cheek. “Now, let’s finish breakfast”

Ada knew her mother was not completely honest, but she decided to let it go.

They finished breakfast and went to their rooms to get their stuffs. Tom, the pub manager, helped Ada with her suitcase in the stairs. After thanking him, the mother and the daughter took the bus to go the train station. It was 10:30 am when they arrived. They still had thirty minutes to go on the 9 ¾ platform, which was plenty of time to exchange plenty of goodbyes before separating. Once they were on the platform, Ada’s excitement was at its peak. It was not her first time here, since she always came to say goodbye to her brother for his departures. But this time it was for her. She was the one to go to Hogwarts. A little bit of sadness started to reach her though, as she always thought Jacob would be here for her first departure to Hogwarts. She was also sad that her father wasn’t here like he was for Jacob. The tears were starting to fill her eyes when she suddenly felt a huge shock on her right side that almost made her fell on the floor. In her left hand, he could feel Merlot’s cage moving from the owl’s protestation to this shock. For a split second, she thought a student had hit her by accident, but then she heard a familiar laugh in her hear that made her realize it wasn’t an accident at all. Nymphadora Tonks was hugging her.

“ADA! We’re finally going, it’s today, we’re going to Hogwarts” said the young witch.

Ada laughed at her best friend’s excitement. They had known each other since they were babies and were best friends. The two were basically inseparable. Their families didn’t live too far from each other and it wasn’t rare at all to see the Tonks at the Shelby’s house or the Shelby at the Tonks’ house. Indeed, Nymphadora’s mother, Andromeda, was Miranda’s best friend since Hogwarts. When Ada was born, Miranda and her husband, Luke, designated Andromeda to be their daughter’s Godmother. A few months later Andromeda and Ted Tonks designated Miranda to be Nymphadora’s Godmother.

After a few second, Ada and Nymphadora finally broke their hug. Nymphadora’s excitement was all over her face. She had one of the biggest smile Ada’s ever seen on her. Her eyes were sparkling with happiness and her hair, that she had decided to turn purple for the day, was moving from the little jumps of excitement the girl was doing. A sight at her face made Ada’s sadness disappear. This kind of joy was communicative. Soon, Ada was wearing the exact same smile.

“Tonight, we will finally be at Hogwarts, can you imagine that?” Continued Nymphadora.

“This is amazing! So, you have everything on you? You didn’t forget anything?” Asked Ada.

“Oh come on Ada, I thought you knew Dora by now! She almost forgot her wand this morning, we almost left without it…” Said a male voice.

Ada turned her head and saw Ted and Andromeda Tonks walking between excited students towards them.

“Seriously?” Laughed Ada.

“Argh, details” Shrugged Nymphadora.

Ada laughed one more time and turned to properly face the Tonks. Ted, tall with kind hazel eyes, smiled and high-fived her. Andromeda, tall too, with the elegance and grey eyes she inherited from her birth family and the warm smile and gaze she inherited from herself, opened her arms to welcome her Goddaughter in them in a quick hug while saying:

“Hello Ada. Ready for school too?”

“Hi Ted, Andy. Yeah, I can’t wait to be there!”

“I can only imagine.” said Ted “Dora too, obviously. I don’t think she even slept last night.”

“Not very much, to be honest.” Responded Dora, who was hugging Miranda.

“Yeah me neither.” Said Ada.

“OH, you have an owl too!” said Dora, spotting the barn owl, now wisely placed in her cage again, though staring at Dora with mistrust.

“Yeah, her name is Merlot, just like my Grandmother’s old owl. Mom bought it for me yesterday.”

“She’s beautiful! I named mine Horton.”

Ada smiled and looked at the little black owl somehow sleeping in her cage, that Ted holding. How could the owl sleep with all the noises present on the platform?

They heard a whistle and the students present on the platform began to say goodbye to their parents and to enter into the train. With the help of their parents, the two girls dragged their suitcases on the train. Ada placed Merlot’s cage on hers and went back on the platform.

While Dora was hugging her parents, Ada turned to her mother with a smile.

“So, this is it Mon Ange” said Miranda, softly stroking Ada’s hair, with a smile that was a little bit sad. Ada started to get a bit worried about her mother again. “Just send me Merlot tomorrow morning to tell me everything about tonight, alright?”

“Will do” Smiled Ada.

She hugged her mother. She wanted to ask her one more time if she was going to be ok, if her leaving was going to cause too much harm. But she didn’t ask. She knew her mother was strong. She had to believe in that. It would be better for both of them.

They finally broke the hug and Miranda kissed her daughter on the forehead.

“Don’t let Dora drag you into too much trouble. She likes pranks a little bit much.” She said.

“HEY!” Protested Dora from behind Ada.

“You know I’m joking! Come and say goodbye, you little troublemaker.”

Ada faced Ted and Andromeda to hug them too.

“Don’t drag our Dora in your pranks, please. We know it’s actually YOU the real troublemaker here!” said Ted.

“Ted! That was supposed to be a secret!” Laughed Ada.

He laughed in return while Ada was hugging Andromeda. The latter whispered to her:

“I know you’re worried about your mother. I’m going to keep an eye on her, don’t worry.”

Andromeda always knew how to read her mind, somehow. She always knew what Ada was feeling or thinking. It was one of the things Ada loved the most about her Godmother. In addition of that, the woman always knew how to talk to her or what to do whenever Ada wasn’t feeling fine. This had led to a lot of heart-to-heart conversations and a strong connection had grown more and more over the years between the two of them. By talking about it to Dora, she knew her best friend and her own Godmother, Miranda, shared the same kind of connection.

After a few seconds, Ada stepped back a little.

“Goodbye Andy!” she said, trying to put in her smile all of the gratitude she was feeling towards her at the moment.

“Have a great year, Love”

With Dora, she went on the train and they both stood at a window to wave at their parents, while the train started to move. Once the train turned at the first turn, and the platform was out of sight, Ada turned to Dora:

“We’re going to Hogwarts!” she said with excitement.

“We’re going to Hogwarts.” repeated the young purple-haired witch.

The two had spent days and days talking about their future school. Most of the time, they were having the same conversation over and over, but they didn’t care. It was something they would share together, and it was the only thing that mattered.

“Come on, let’s find a compartment!” said Dora.

“Yes!”

Ada followed her best friend, most of nervousness starting to leave her. She trusted Andromeda Tonks completely and she knew that if someone could keep an eye on Miranda, it would be her. The relationship between the two mothers wasn’t too much different from the relationship Ada had with Dora. Knowing that her mother was in good hands and knowing that Miranda was a really strong woman, she started to debate with Dora on which house would more suit them while they were searching for a place to sit.

(To be continued...)

#hphm #hphm oc #hphm mc #hphm fanfiction #hphm mc fanfiction #posting fanfiction is scary #please be nice #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter #wizarding world

6 notes · View notes

romancandlemagazine · 4 years

Text

An Interview with Brian Cannon

This is probably a pretty obvious statement to make, but there’s more to music than just the music. Things like melody and chords and all that are fairly important, but there are a thousand other factors that help turn a song, track or album into something more than just a bunch of sound waves smacking into your ear drums.

Record sleeves are one such factor — and not many have created quite as many stone cold classics as Brian Cannon.

As the man behind the infamous Microdot agency, Brian was responsible for looking after the visual side of both Oasis and The Verve, as well as designing covers for bands like Suede, Cast and Inspiral Carpets.

Here’s an interview with him about doing graffiti in Wigan, his trademark ‘in-camera’ style and the logistics of putting a Rolls Royce in a swimming pool…

Maybe an obvious first question – but how did you get into designing record covers? What were you into when you were growing up in Wigan.

I specifically set out to design record sleeves, because I was a fan of punk rock. I was 11 in 1977, when I first got into it all.

Do you remember the first time you saw ‘punk’?

I’m the eldest in my family, so I didn’t have the influence of an older brother – but I did have an older cousin called Tony who was 15 at the time — and when you’re 11, that’s a massive difference. I’d heard about this phenomenon from Tony, and then I saw the Buzzcocks on Top of the Pops — and to actually see it in the flesh — it blew me away.

Why do you think it had such an impact on so many people? Was it because it was so different.

Exactly, it was totally different. At that time, Top of the Pops was your barometer, and glam rock was pretty much all you had — things like Sweet and Mud — long hair, flares, platforms and mad outfits. But then all of a sudden you had these lads who looked like your mates, with short hair and tight pants, making this fast, aggressive music. And I loved it.

How did this lead into doing design?

Me and my mates thought, “We’ve got to get a band together.” So we met up at my mum’s house in Wigan, and I realised instantly that I couldn’t play guitar. I just couldn’t get my head around chords.

But I’d always been good at drawing. My dad was a fantastic illustrator, far better than me, but the opportunities for illustrators in Wigan in the 1940s were zero – so he worked as a coal miner and never did anything with it. But he was very much in favour of me doing drawing, and he always encouraged me.

And with punk, if you looked at the graphics and the visual identity, it felt like it was in reach. I think that was the point of it. Before punk, bands were like creatures from another planet — but with punk, the whole process was demystified – the man in the street could get involved. That was a massive inspiration to me.

So I married my love of the music with my talent for art, and thought that I’d become a sleeve designer instead.

It’s interesting how even in your early teens you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

I remember doing this art foundation course, and the tutor was going around, asking us what we wanted to do when we finished our education. He came to me and I said, “I want to design record sleeves.” But straight away he said, “No, no, no – you can’t be so specific, you need to get a job in graphics and learn your way.”

I was almost derided for it – because not only was I going to do record sleeves, but I was going to go freelance from the get go. I think anyone can do it these days, because you just get a laptop and then you’re a graphic designer all of a sudden. But back then, not only was there no social media and no internet, but the equipment required to do the job of a graphic designer, the forerunner to Photoshop, cost £300,000. It was this machine called Quantel Paintbox.

What was that?

It was a computer, about the size of your house, with less power than your mobile phone. It was way out of my reach — I could hardly afford a paper and pencil.

What did you do then?

This punk style was really stark, with high contrast black and white, degraded imagery, and it just so happened that if you photocopied an image over and over, it went like that. And that was handy, because all I could afford to use was a photocopier.

There was a little print shop at the bottom of Library Street in Wigan, and I’d be in there all day, with a scalpel and a tin of glue, putting these things together in the shop – and that’s how it all started.

How did your first sleeve come about? Was that the Ruthless Rap Assassins one?

Yeah — I did a graffiti mural on the side of a warehouse in 1984, and it was noticed by a guy called Greg Wilson, who was a very influential DJ at that time. He’d thought to himself, I’m going to see this New York style graffiti in London or Manchester or Birmingham at some point, but he couldn’t believe it that he’d seen it in Wigan. He sent word out on the street that he wanted to meet whoever had done it, and I was summoned to his house. We ended up becoming friends and I did this sleeve. And then off it went from there.

What happened next then?

I then met Richard Ashcroft at a party and got chatting, but then The Verve got signed and I didn’t see him for another two years. I ended up bumping into him in a petrol station at six o’ clock in the morning. He said, “Wow, you’re that sleeve guy. We’ve just been signed – do you want the gig?”

So I went to London to have a meeting with Virgin, who The Verve were signed to. Vigin obviously had some big London agency lined up to do this work for The Verve, so they were horrified when Richard Ashcroft said he wanted this unknown student he’d met at a party in Wigan to do the artwork. But they were cool enough to think, “Well, this is what the band wanted.” And then after the first single came about, they were like, “Sorry we doubted you.”

What else were you doing at that time?

On the back of doing the stuff for The Verve, Suede got in touch. And then I met Noel Gallagher. I used to have an office in Manchester on New Mount Street in the same building as the Inspiral Carpets office, and I got chatting to him in the lift about trainers.

What were they?

They were a pair of adidas Indoor Super. I took my mother to Rome for her 60th birthday, and I found these trainers in some tiny backstreet shop.

Wasn’t the Oasis logo based roughly on the adidas logo?

The original was kind of the adidas font – but we binned it, because with the adidas font, the ‘A’ is just like an ‘o’ with a line on the side, so it just looked like ‘oosis’.

I did the logo in ’93, and then their first album came out in ’94. After Oasis it went buck-wild... Ash, Cast, even Atomic Kitten… it was mental.

Was it hard to keep up with it all?

No, because if you think about it, even a busy band back then would only put out three singles and an album out per year – so even if you’ve got five bands a year, that’s only twenty jobs a year. Mind you, it was labour intensive as there was no Photoshop.

I was going to ask you about that. As a lot of your images were done without Photoshop, ‘in camera’, how did you go about getting them? Creating an image like the Oasis Be Here Now cover doesn’t look easy.

This is a very important point to make. Because it was all shot on film – we didn’t have the luxury of looking at the back of the camera and seeing what we’d got. We had no idea what we’d got until we got the photos back from the lab. Imagine putting a Rolls Royce in a swimming pool and realising the photos weren’t exposed correctly.

Before the shoot, there’d be a massive process of research and preparation, so when the day comes, nothing was left to chance.

Were you given free reign with all this?

Yeah, it was a beautiful situation. With both The Verve and Oasis, the record companies just let us get on with it. All they did was pay for the bills. And that was great, because we knew what we were doing.

A lot of the Oasis ones are particularly complicated. What was the hardest one to pull off?

Putting a Rolls Royce in a pool was pretty tough. Finding a pool that someone’s going to let you put a Rolls Royce into was the hardest part. And then we had to find a Rolls Royce that wasn’t worth £50,000 – because Oasis weren’t that rich. It was a scrap Rolls Royce, with no engine in it, but it still cost us £1,000 to hire it. And then we had to get a crane and dangle it in.

How many shots did you take of that one?

That one was ridiculous, because like I said, we didn’t have the luxury of seeing what we’d shot. For that shoot there was something like 30 odd rolls of film, with 36 exposures on each roll – so it was almost a thousand frames of something that’s really just a still life. That’s excessive.

We stayed there that night, and then we got the films processed in London. Then there was the wait, like an expectant father.

How did you work out which was the best one, when you had a thousand pretty much identical photos to look at?

It was like snow blindness. We’d start with the obvious non-starters, and whittle it down and down. It was a very laborious process of elimination, but we didn’t know any other way.

Do you think this real life, ‘in camera’ method of creating these really detailed images helped elevate them a bit?

By that point we could have easily Photoshopped it, but we just did things for real because it was our trademark, and I enjoyed doing things that way. We started doing it that way out of necessity, because we couldn’t afford computers – but even when we could afford them, we still did things the real way as we preferred it.

And it must have been more fun that sitting around staring at a computer.

Yeah – I loved it. Just to see a Rolls Royce in a swimming pool – it looked amazing.

What about the Definitely Maybe cover? Obviously now that’s talked about as being one of the best record covers of all time, but were people saying that when it was released?

No, they weren’t. It’s all very well saying things with the benefit of hindsight. It’s just been voted as one of the top 70 record sleeves of all time – and do you know what? I’m not going to rain on my own parade, because I think it’s a great sleeve — but had that been for a band you’d never heard of, it wouldn’t be in the top 70.

I suppose there’s a lot that’s tied in with that. The memories that come with it and everything else – it’s a full package. What was the story behind the Definitely Maybe cover?

It’s an anti-band shot. That was the idea. There’s a Beatles album called A Collection of Beatles Oldies (but Goldies!), and on the back there’s this shot of them in this dressing room in Japan. And I just loved the fly on the wall nature of it – none of them were looking at the camera. And whilst it looks nothing like Definitely Maybe, that’s where the inspiration came from.

That documentary style?

Precisely. The band are having their picture took, and they’re all watching the telly.

It’s designed to look candid, but what was the reality of it?

It was incredibly staged. It’s too perfect of a composition to just happen. We positioned everyone very carefully. Even the still on the television was specifically chosen – it’s the shot in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly where he’s got him by the face. It was paused on VHS. That’s how meticulous it was.

A lot of your sleeves are photography-based. Was there a particular reason for this?

My favourite record sleeves, with the exceptions of Never Mind the Bollocks, are photographically based. I just think it’s the best way of doing it. And that’s why, in the cases of both The Verve and Oasis, there’s very little intrusion with type or logos.

With The Verve, the logo would be in the shot, and with Oasis, the logo would be in the top corner. We’d spend ages coming up for the idea and staging the shoot, we didn’t want to ruin it by plastering a logo in front of it.

It seemed like there was definite styles for each band you worked with. Your covers for The Verve always had real text in the photo. Was that a faff to do that? Setting the letters on fire on the Storm in Heaven cover looked tough.

Yes, it was. I had the letters made by a steel fabricator in Oldham, and covered them with this cladding that street jugglers use when they’re juggling fire, and then poured paraffin onto it. The only downside was that the letters gave off loads of smoke – and because we were in a cave, it just wouldn’t clear. We were having to wait about half an hour in-between each shot for the smoke to clear.

Where did the idea for that one come from?

I’d never seen letters set on fire and photographed before, but I just thought it’d look good. I do a lot of lecturing at colleges, and I always say, much to the chagrin of the lecturers, that you don’t have to explain everything away. Some things you just do because they look good – there’s no further explanation required.

Very true. Maybe a tough question, especially considering what you’ve just said… but what makes a good record cover?

What makes a good record? You just know, don’t you? There can be a thousand reasons why one might be bad, but I can’t think of one reason why one will be good. There’s no formula to it. It’s down to the individual too – it’s all opinion.

What do you think the purpose of a record cover is? Is it marketing, or is it art?

I don’t think it’s a marketing tool — I’d regard it as a bonus for the fans. I don’t think it sells records. I’ve bought the odd record because of the sleeve, but then again, I’m a sleeve designer.

Were the covers always influenced by the music – or sometimes did you just have an idea you wanted to use on something?

No — that never happened. We were quite vehement about that. Every sleeve was like a bespoke suit, cut for that particular piece of music.

From what I’ve read, you weren’t just some guy in an office sending off designs to the bands – you were involved with the bands a lot more, going on tours and things like that.

I was of the opinion that the more I got my head around what the band were into and how they thought, the better the visuals could be… and hanging around with a rock and roll band is good fun. I toured American with both Oasis and The Verve, but it was mad, because I was the only person on the tour-bus who had nothing to do.

What was it like being around those bands when they suddenly became massive?

It was all a bit weird really. Anybody will tell you this – the best bit of any band is that bit when they just start taking off. The best bits are when it’s still pretty innocent.

Did you have a few people working for you by that point?

Yeah – but it was never massive. At Microdot’s peak, there was five or six of us. In the late 90s we started branching out into all sorts of mad stuff. We were running night-clubs, we were publishing magazines, we were managing bands… at one point there was talk of importing Volkswagen Beetles from Mexico.

A brilliant idea.

I’d gone to Mexico on holiday, and I kept seeing these old Beetles. They were still making them there, and we’d worked out that if we shipped them back to England, and even if we turned them right hand drive, we could still make £2,000 on every one we sold. If we sold 500 of them, we’d make a million quid.

We were all set to go, but Volkswagen head office in Germany had told the Mexicans they couldn’t sell us the cars, as they reckoned it’d harm the Golf market in the UK.

But it would have been mint.

I know. So we then tried the Brazilians as they were making them there too – and this was so Microdot it was untrue. On the street in Shoreditch where we had our studio, there was a little café called Franco’s that was run by a Portuguese family. Now they don’t speak Spanish in Brazil – they speak Portuguese, so I went in to Franco’s one day and I said I’d give the man who worked behind the counter a tenner if he’d come to the office, and speak down the phone to Volkswagen HQ in Sao Paulo. He did it, but it still didn’t happen.

What do you mean by things being, “so Microdot.” Was there a certain attitude there?

Absolutely. The reason why it was like that was because I didn’t have any experience of working in an agency. I had no idea how things should be done — we were just making things up as we were going along.

It was bonkers. When we moved to London, we had enough money from Alan McGee to buy this computer, and to set up a studio in Shoreditch. But in this mad rush to move to London, I’d forgotten that we needed somewhere to live, so me and Matt, the lad who worked with me, had to live in the studio. There was one room, and a toilet, and we lived in there for four months. We had a couch that you could take the cushions off, and we’d take it in turns every night – one of us sleeping on the couch, one of us sleeping on the cushions on the floor.

And we could party hard, because we knew that the only person we had to answer to the following day had been out with us previous night – there was no way Noel Gallagher was going to ring us at nine in the morning, because we’d just left him at seven in the morning. There’d be occasions when a client would turn up, and there’d be somebody asleep on the floor in the studio.

Nowadays you do all sorts of stuff – and amongst various design bits, you’ve been photographing northern soul nights. How did this come about?

That was a massive project for me. It started in 2012, when the renaissance was under way. A friend of mine from Wigan said that I should go along to this club run by these kids who were into northern soul.

I was very aware that when you take photographs of people dancing in dark rooms, they just look like statues at a wedding, but I wanted to get some soul or some atmosphere into the shot, so I thought I’ll use an off-camera flash.

I went to this club-night with my mate John, who was going to be my lighting guy, holding my flash in his hand, at a 45 degree angle to me. But when we get there, his phone rings — his wife was pregnant and her car had got a puncture — so that was my lighting gone. So I just put the light on the stage or on the floor, and worked around that, and the results I got were astonishing, purely by accident – I got these massive long shadows, cast from behind.

I suppose that comes from the same place as your record covers – you’re a fan.

Absolutely. Growing up in Wigan in the 1970s made it kind of inevitable to be a northern soul fan.

Alright, I think I’ve pretty much ran out of questions now. Have you got any wise words or anything to finish this off?

Never give in.

#Interviews #Brian Cannon #Oasis #The Verve

6 notes · View notes

robichaux-ahs · 5 years

Text

september 30th — pathway

relationship: montana duke/brooke thompson (brooktana)

warnings: n/a

notes: an alternate to what happened in episode two (mr. jingles) of ahs: 1984

prompt by: @downwithwritersblock

———

With her feet dangling on the dock, water splashing over her shoes and sleeping into her socks, Brooke’s mind was pulled away from all that it was meddling on before and now relaxing with the push and pull of the waves.

The sound of buzzing mosquitos and cicadas filled her ears, making Brooke far too aware of the forest that surrounded her. Dense trees and underbrush covered any accessible pathway for her to be on, walk on, and perhaps even run on if she were being chased by one of the many attackers she had. It was hard being out alone in such a vulnerable position. Anyone who had the power could easily push her down into the water she was so happily enjoying sitting by, and Brooke knew that whatever eternal force was watching her did not care so much about her life to keep her afloat in the bottomless lake.

Every sound that sounded ever so slightly like footsteps made her head turn back. Her hands were pressed on the wood by her side, clenching against the curves so that she could prop herself up and bolt when needed. And she knew, it would be needed. The wind sounded like breaths, the leaves rustling sounded like keys, and the goosebumps that trailed along her arms felt like fingers grazing her skin.

The sudden interruption of silence came when a familiar voice called her name. “Brooke?”

Her feet moved out of the water, too soon to notice the scarred body floating up in the water. The figure in front of her was Montana, the one person she really couldn’t bear to see. Too many of her thoughts revolved around her: the past, the present, and the kiss. She didn’t reply, though her fingers did clench slightly at her side. It seemed Montana noticed, her eyes trailing down to see the fists, then raising softly in order to reassure that she wasn’t someone Brooke needed to worry about.

“I just needed some air, like I said,” Brooke finally said as Montana took a few steps closer. “There’s... just so much going on right now.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet Montana’s eyes. There was just too much happening between them, and Brooke struggled to come to terms with it. Did she actually try to kiss her? Or was she just hallucinating after all she confessed to her before.

That voice, once again, brought her out of her thoughts. If there was one thing she could count on her for, it was bringing Brooke back to reality. “Yeah, those cabins are so congested. You would think if she wanted this place to purify kids, she’d make the cabins more roomy.”

She didn’t entirely get what Brooke was addressing, but it was a nice gesture for Montana to agree. Besides, the cabins were extremely humid and cramped, and going outside was a good alternative to get some fresh air. Her eyes flicked to the side, watching the water ripple and reflect the moonlight. There was a rustle of branches somewhere in the distance, but since Montana was there with her on the docks, she thought she’d be safe.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. Brooke used her sudden confusion and tension, alongside the adrenaline rushing through her body, to look up at the girl in front of her. Now, Montana’s eyes watched the molding wood with newfound interest. “I wasn’t thinking,” she confessed without eye contact, “and it was so stupid of me to do that.”

Brooke agreed, it was stupid, but she wouldn’t say it aloud to her face. The kiss was confusing, which made this whole situation much worse than it could have been. If she didn’t confess to everything about her past, this may not have happened. If she just didn’t enjoy the kiss, then the situation could be resolved instantly.

But it couldn’t.

Because really, in the depths of her own mind, Brooke knew that her stomach sunk when Montana drew in, the same way she felt when her first lover pressed his own lips to hers for the first time, and the same way she felt when Chet eyed her at the studio.

“If it’s any consolation,” Montana continued hesitantly, “I’m willing to forget it ever happened. I promise I won’t tell anyone about it.”

There was no hesitance as Brooke hastily replied, “No!” Montana flinched at the sound of her voice, but even Brooke herself was alarmed at the word that came from her mouth.

Her thoughts were running wild now, and it was hard to say something else. Both girls were taken aback suddenly as a scream chorused from the woods. Instead of continuing her statement from before, Brooke and Montana both made their ways towards the source of the sound, fortunate they were both with each other instead of alone.

They ran through the trees, no true pathway in sight. There was another scream, the same one as before, but closer this time.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Montana quickly asked, looking towards Brooke with a new expression on her face- fear. “We shouldn’t be going towards the-“

Brooke stopped her, grabbing her hand and dragging her closer to the sound. There was a new sense of courage mustering inside her chest, something that made Montana both confused and intrigued.

A sudden body crashed into Brooke, or perhaps she crashed into it. Either way, as she fell Montana came tumbling with her into the dirt and leaves covering the ground. The hiker, who they crashed into just that afternoon, was groaning on the ground. Nobody spoke until he looked up, dazed and confused.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Brooke got to her feet and stood, shocked, for a moment. “You’re alive?”

One moment she looked away from the trees, closed her eyes to breath and collect herself. The next, she, Montana, and the hiker were standing on a beaten dirt trail in the woods: a pathway that was never there before.

Montana didn’t speak as the hiker pressed his palm against his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?” His eyes moved between the two of them. “You both have to leave, now.”

Before she could open her mouth to speak, Montana’s hand clasped onto hers quickly. “Brooke.” Her head turned. “Let’s go.” The rustle of leaves behind the hiker proved Montana’s concerns, and without saying anything to the hiker about the confusion about the whole situation, the two girls bolted along the dirt trail and back to their cabin.

The trees behind them stood still, silent.

Without stopping once they arrived inside, Montana shut the door forcefully and locked it, sliding down it as her back pressed against the wood. Brooke never saw her so scared before, and couldn’t imagine the hiker was the only thing that shocked her that badly.

Confused, yet also nervous, she kneeled down in front of Montana and watched as, once her hand touched hers, her friend broke down. It was a horrible sound, to hear someone you felt so close to be so vulnerable, pathetic in front of you. Brooke let her fingers roam along the back of her hands, reminding her that everything was going to be alright now that they were inside. She wasn’t alone.

She sobbed until her face her, and even then she continued to choke out hoarse noises. “I saw... him.”

Brooke looked at her, confused. “Mr. Jingles?” Every bone in her body tensed, and she let go of Montana’s hand far too quickly.

“No.” Now that her hands were free she used them to wipe her face of dried tears. “The Night Stalker. He was in the trees behind the... the hiker and I saw him turn away with this weapon. It wasn’t Jingles, it didn’t sound like he had keys.”

Brooke closed her eyes, unable to bear seeing Montana’s face as she visualized the man himself, the one who followed her all the way to the camp and now may kill her and her friends. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” Montana admitted quickly.

She had nothing to apologize for.

“I didn’t believe you when you said he was here. One murderer is enough to be insane, but two was just...” She trailed off. “I should have believed you.”

“You didn’t know.” Brooke was still tense, but her focus was now aimed at Montana and making sure she was alright. “But now you do.”

There was a pause between them, where neither Montana nor Brooke said a word. A new atmosphere between the two. They both expected what was coming just by the slow movements towards each other, but just like on the bed before Montana recreated the scene.

This time, Brooke did not pull away.

#american horror story #ahs 1984 #ahs #montana duke #brooke thompson #brooktana #ahs fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

jessahmewren · 5 years

Text

“Some Day, One Day” / Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

A lovely anon asked for “Freddie falling from the stairs (or the stage) during a concert like in 1984 in Hanover, but this time it's Freddie from 70s and he is hurt more badly and everyone (boys, crew, roadies, crowd etc) is worried and scared. And Brian, when he is holding the unconscious Freddie, realized that he loves him more than just like a brother.“ and THIS is what I came up with :).

Thank you so much for trusting me with your vision, dear. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Brian's missing the one thing he's had all along...someone to share his life with. Or, it takes Freddie becoming injured to make Brian realize he could never live without him.

Pairing: Brian May/Freddie Mercury

Rating: T for Tame but Teasing

Word Count: 2159

Also on AO3

-0-0-0-

The rain was coming down in sheets, one of those storms that was known to blow in off the North Sea and just settle over a village until it had emptied its belly and moved on.

Brian drove on, the wipers doing double time against the onslaught as he crept along the highway. Freddie sat in the passenger seat, or rather reclined, one foot propped delicately on the dash as he sang scales.

Roger was in the second row seat, answering him in a higher range.

“Bugger off, the both of you,” John groused. “You’re gonna blow your voices before we even get there.”

Freddie smiled, smirking back at the young man. “Why don’t you join us darling? Oh, that’s right. You can’t sing,” he said playfully.

John frowned. “I’d rather do one thing really well than a lot of things only better than average,” he spat back.

Roger giggled, taunting Freddie with an “oooooh,” as Freddie opened his mouth to say more, when Brian slapped the steering wheel in frustration. “That’s enough!” he exclaimed. Driving the van in the storm had his nerves on edge, and coupled with his mates’ arguing he felt like he was losing his mind.

The three boys grew quiet, waiting on Brian to say something. “It’s been a long drive,” he said tiredly, the slosh of the windshield wipers nearly drowning out his voice. “We’re all wired and we’ve still got to the show to do. Let’s just get to the club and have a pint so we can put on a bloody good show. Alright?”

Affirmative murmurs came from all members, and everyone grew quiet…until Deaky threw a guitar pick into Freddie’s hair.

Freddie rounded on him, all giggles. “Wanker!”

“Bitch!” Deaky shot back.

“Oh God, the biggest,” Freddie said with a smile, and just like that they were all laughing, even Brian.

---

They arrived at the club a few hours before the show, which was ideal for the band. Everyone was still a bit rankled from the drive, and energy was high for the upcoming performance. Some pints would do them good.

They made their way to the bar and ordered a few. Roger went off to talk to some girls he’d noticed, and after a few drinks, John decided to go ahead and set up on the club’s small stage. Brian smiled as he walked off, bass in hand. They boys may get into arguments sometimes, but they always made up.

By then the storm had cleared, and the sun was stunning as it flashed brightly before sinking beneath the horizon. Brian could see it just beyond the window of the club. It had been a five hour drive up to this part of England, and the day was nearly gone.

Freddie eased up beside him, his tan face warmed even further in the orange light. “Let’s go outside…sit on the patio,” he said suddenly. “Just me and you left now.”

Brian smiled, following his friend outside to the club’s small outdoor seating area. The chairs were still wet from the storm, so they brushed them off and sat at the little tables where they could watch the sun slip low while sipping their beers.

A little thought occurred to Brian, then went away just as quickly. This is nice. How nice would it be to have someone to do this with all the time? He pushed the thought down deep into the depths of his mind. He didn’t need anyone like that. He had his mates, and that was enough.

Freddie was looking at him curiously, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What’s on your mind darling?”

Brian smiled. Freddie was his best friend…had been for as long as he could remember. He was so lucky to have him. He should be ashamed of wanting more for himself.

Freddie’s warm eyes sought his, now slightly concerned.

“Nothing Fred. Just thinking about tonight,” Brian lied.

Freddie smiled, looking off into the rapidly descending sun briefly before meeting Brian’s gaze. “It’s going to be fantastic darling! I’ve got our wardrobe, of course! Even Deaky will love it.” He gave Brian a devilish wink, and something warm stirred in Brian’s belly.

“You shouldn’t tease Deaky so much,” Brian scolded. “He loves you so.”

Freddie smiled widely, the setting sun painting his golden skin and raven hair in ribbons of molten light. “That’s exactly why I should,” he said fondly. “Because I love him too. And you only tease the ones you love.”

Brian swallowed. “But why don’t you tease me?”

Freddie’s face changed almost imperceptibly. His eyes moved over Brian’s face, and he graced him with a fond smile. “Oh Brian. You’re different.”

Brian considered that. How was he any different than Roger or John?

He looked up and Freddie was stretching cat-like in the dying light. “Gotta make myself beautiful, Bri,” he said through a stretch. “It’s almost show time.”

Freddie left Brian sitting on the patio, still wondering what he meant.

---

Backstage was crowded and hot, a miserable little room with two dressing tables (one Freddie required entirely) and no windows. The two mirrors afforded them were scratched and dull, and Brian had to grip a makeup sponge in one hand and wipe sweat with the other.

“I’ve never been so bloody miserable in my entire life,” he muttered sullenly.

“Take your shirt off,” Roger offered. He was walking around in a pair of tight jeans and suspenders and nothing else, and Brian had no doubt he was planning on going on stage like that.

“No thanks,” Brian said. “I don’t have a drumset to hide behind.”

Deaky was characteristically quiet as he drew a dark line of kohl around his eyes. Freddie watched him without hovering, making sure he applied it properly. “Like this darling,” he said, helpfully making an adjustment. “Now that’s sexy.”

Freddie was, of course, a vision in white satin pants and matching top with a deep plunging neckline emblazoned with sequins. His dark hair shined. He had dusted his prominent cheekbones with blush and accented his eyes with kohl. On his feet, he wore a pair of high-heel white leather boots.

“Be careful on stage tonight, Fred. It’s a small space, and it’s high. I was up there earlier setting up,” Deaky said.

Freddie patted his cheek. “Don’t you worry about a thing, darling, I’m as surefooted as a cat.”

Brian huffed. “Freddie, what have you got picked out for me to wear? Hopefully something light…I’m melting in here.”

Freddie stood and fluffed his hair, dramatically moving to the makeshift closet the stagehands had set up for them.

He withdrew a sheer black top with matching pants. There were sequins down the leg.

“Here you go my love.” He looked at Brian meaningfully. “My stage counterpart…black to my white.” His eyes shined as he met Brian’s gaze. “I thought we would switch it up this time around.”

Something fluttered in Brian’s chest as he looked at Freddie, striking in his makeup and stagewear, but beneath it all, just as amazing.

“Yeah,” Brian managed. “That was a good idea.”

Brian hurriedly got dressed, finding the clothes Freddie had chosen for him were just right. He was pretty sure the shirt was Freddie’s. The pants might have been Deaky’s, but they fit him well.

Freddie clapped his hands. “Ok gents! Are we ready to fucking do this?!” They all circled around Freddie, responding enthusiastically. When the time came, they lined up behind the curtain and waited for their cue.

Brian could hear the tightly packed club, assembled crowd cheering their name. He looked at Freddie, and his eyes were lit with excitement. “Let’s do it, darling,” he said over the chants from the audience.

The show was electric. Brian’s fingers flew over his guitar…it was like his body was connected to every string, every note he played. Roger’s drums held them together, wild yet reliable. Deaky’s bass thrummed like a heartbeat.

But the real showstopper, of course, was Freddie. His voice soared to the rafters. He spun and whirled, every step taking him closer and closer to the edge of the small stage.

Deaky had warned him about going too far, but there had always been an air of invincibility about Freddie that worried Brian. He was about to launch into his solo, when he heard the scream.

And his whole world stopped.

Freddie slipped, the toe of his boot catching on the narrow edge of the stage, and fell a good ten feet into the crowd below. And Deaky, being closest to him at the time, had seen it happen.

Deaky’s was the scream Brian had heard, not Freddie’s, but it was no matter. Brian had launched himself to the edge of the stage, his guitar forgotten, peering over to try and find his friend.

Freddie lay twisted on the dirty floor of the club, his all-white ensemble a stark contrast to the black space. A small circle of people had opened up around him, their hands clutched to their chests in horror. Roadies and stage managers rushed to his aid, hesitant to touch him but needing to do something to help, only not knowing what. Distantly, someone called out for an ambulance.

Brian sat there frozen, until he wasn’t. His legs were moving, pounding down the stairs followed closely by John and Roger who kept muttering something about how he had to be ok, he just had to be ok. Someone was cursing. Brian couldn’t hear above the blood roaring in his ears, and all he could see was that image burned onto his brain of Freddie lying there like a broken marionette doll and him feeling powerless…so powerless to do anything.

There were people…so many people. The club was still so crowded and now curious onlookers had pressed in, hoping to get a peek at what was happening with Freddie. “Out of my way!” Brian screamed, “Move!” He outright shoved a few people as he, Roger and John scrambled to get to Freddie.

The last person cleared their path, and Brian fell on his knees beside him. There was blood coming from a deep wound on his head, and he wasn’t moving. “Oh, God,” Brian said, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Brian looked at Ratty, Freddie’s trusted assistant, his face twisted in anguish. “When is the ambulance coming?!”

“It should be any time now. The roads are washed out. Fuck!” Ratty was close to Freddie and was just as worried as any of them.

Roger leaned in, gently touching Freddie’s twisted leg. “Freddie…Freddie wake up chap.” Behind them, Deaky stood back, chewing his thumbnail. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Brian, what do we do?” Roger looked at Brian rather helplessly. He had always been the one to fix everything. The one they all turned to when they needed answers.

Brian let the tears flow freely as he gently stroked Freddie’s cheek. It was starting to bruise; he must’ve hit it against the floor when he fell.

Brian moved so he could cradle Freddie’s head in his lap. What would he do if Freddie never woke up? How would he go on? Something painful twisted in his chest, almost like his heart was crumbling into tiny shards, stealing his breath.

Gathering himself, he began singing to him softly, tears strangling his voice. “You never heard my song before the music was too loud…But now I think you hear me well for now we both know how…” He stopped to run a hand through Freddie’s raven locks, trying to ignore the blood he found there.

“Do you hear me Freddie?” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Do you know how?”

He felt the small moan rather than heard it, then Freddie stirred in his arms. Freddie frowned, then winced, and Roger and Deaky began murmuring grateful thanks.

Freddie blinked up at him. “Hurts,” he whispered.

Brian was openly crying now, but he was also smiling. He had never cried tears of joy, but this must be what it felt like.

“I know my love,” he said soothingly. “I know it does. But we’re going to get you better. That’s all that matters.”

Freddie looked up at him with awe. “Did you…did you kiss me?”

Brian flushed. He could deny it, but he wouldn’t. The things he wanted for himself had been there all along, he had just been too blind to see it. “Yeah,” he said. “Is that ok?”

Freddie smiled as much as he could, being in so much pain. “More than ok. I’ve loved you for the longest time, Bri.”

Brian clasped Freddie’s hand tightly, a smile brightening his face. He could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer by the second. He pressed a gentle kiss to Freddie’s lips, feeling him soften against him. “You’re going to be ok,” he said against him. “We both are.”

-0-0-0-

12 notes · View notes

x5red · 5 years

Text

Sixty fun & fascinating facts about the classic Supergirl (4 / 4)

At last, the final fifteen fun facts in a series to mark the sixtieth anniversary of Kara Zor-El’s debut in DC Comics. This is the last batch of Supergirl info-nuggets, bringing the trivia total up to sixty, one for each year since her introduction.

As before, each snippet of data relates to the original Supergirl, the intrepid Argo City teen who leapt from that crumpled Midvale rocket ship. Covering her original Silver and Bronze Age incarnation, in comics and on screen, each factoid is calculated to intrigue and delight – hopefully even seasoned Kara fans will find a few morsels of trivia that had previously escaped their attention.

So, one last time: enjoy…

46. At one point she was blacklisted from being mentioned in DC publications.

In 1985 to mark its 50th comicbook publishing anniversary DC Comics launched a mini-series, Crisis on Infinite Earths, that sought to rejig its entire fictional universe to better address the new, more mature, direct sales audience. Childish elements were removed and iconic characters rebooted. Superman was to be recast as the only survivor of Krypton, meaning Supergirl not only had to die but be erased from all past events too. DC, however, decided that erasing Kara from fictional history was simple not cruel enough -- in a move straight out of a George Orwell novel DC airbrushed her from in-real-life history too.

Supergirl became she who shall not be named, seemingly banned from being mentioned, even in the editorial pages. When DC couldn’t avoid using her name, as happened in Secret Origins #42 (July 1989) when discussing Phantom Girl’s first appearance, they masked it with asterisks like an expletive -- ”S*P*RG*RL”. DC even went as far as to exclude Kara from a bio of writer Paul Kupperberg in the pages of Power Girl #2 (July 1988), despite Kupperberg‘s long tenure as Supergirl’s chief writer, and Power Girl being a parallel-universe re-imagining of Kara. Yet the Maid of Might remained popular with at least some DC staffers, as Alan Brennert proved when Kara made a highly unauthorised crafty cameo in his Deadman story inside Christmas with the Super-Heroes #2 (1989) -- Brennert only avoided censorship thanks to DC editor-in-chief Dick Giordano volunteering himself to do the story’s artwork.

47. Prior to her role as Supergirl, Helen Slater had struggled with eating disorders.

In an obscure 1988 interview for UK tv with psychologist Oliver James, Helen Slater talked frankly about how winning the role of Supergirl helped in her ongoing battle with Anorexia and Bulimia. Asked about the cause of the conditions, “Control was one part of it”, Slater admitted, adding, “I think Bulimia especially, which I did suffer from from 13 [...] is a lot to do with not having a safe space to express anger.” She went on to credit her Supergirl fitness trainer, Alf Joint (“the most beautiful man in the world”) with overcoming some of her fears around food by using Chocolate Brazils (chocolate dipped nuts) as positive reinforcement after a hard training session.

48. She celebrated her 75th birthday in 2018.

It is generally accepted that Kara Zor-El’s birthday, when using the Gregorian calendar on Earth, is 22nd September. That date comes from a reply to a reader’s letter published in Adventure Comics #389 (Feb 1970), but said reply didn’t give the year of Kara’s birth, meaning readers couldn’t work out Kara’s age. (“One should never trust a woman who tells one her real age”, wrote Oscar Wilde, ”A woman who would do that would tell anything.”) Fortunately a little bit of detective work means that fans can work it out. A story in Action Comics #305 (Oct 1963) gives the date of Kara’s arrival on Earth as 18th May 1959, and both the Daring New Adventures of Supergirl #1 (Nov 1982) and Action Comics #270 (Nov 1960) suggest that Kara was 15 years old when she landed. This means that she was born in 1943. So, as of her most recent birthday at the time of writing (22nd September 2018), she would require 75 candles on her birthday cake. Good thing she has Kryptonian super-lungs..!

49. Her nickname was Hot Dog.

Every fan knows that Kara Zor-El is Supergirl, and that Supergirl is Linda Lee Danvers, but how many fans know that Linda Lee Danvers was also... “Hot Dog”..?!?!!

Yup, that was her name when she was dating Philip Decker, music conductor and part-time lecturer at Lake Shore University, Chicago. The pair’s romance had blossomed in the pages of Supergirl Vol. 2 thanks to a shared love of Jazz music, and they spent an increasing amount of time together in each other’s apartments. It was during one such session of intense snuggling that Philip let slip his nickname for Linda: “Hot Dog”, a name what was met with uncontrollable giggles from Linda.

50. Her makeup bag hid a couple of super secrets.

Of course, if you’re one of the world’s greatest superheroes it is important to look your best when saving the world, but Kara’s beauty kit not only helped keep her looking immaculate while fighting injustice, but also concealed a couple of tricks to keep her dual identity a secret too. In Action Comics #270 (Nov 1960) Kara celebrated her sixteenth birthday. Her gift from the Man of Steel was an innocent looking lipstick which, in reality, hid a secret compartment to stash her super-compressed costume. “If you ever have to conceal your costume quickly, or remove it to go swimming...”, explains Superman (perhaps anticipating other activities that a young woman might get up to that could require stripping off clothing.)

Years later, in Supergirl Vol. 2 #17 (Mar 1984), Kara added more secrets to her makeup bag when she finally decided to ditch her brunette Linda Danvers wig. She still needed a way to switch from Supergirl’s flowing blonde locks to Linda’s brunette bob, of course, and the alternative she devised was a special energized comb that reacted with colour-sensitive molecules to instantly transform her hair’s style and colour. Clever stuff..!

51. She and Brainiac 5 weren’t really an item.

Despite now being firmly romantically linked in the eyes of many comic fans, Brainiac 5 and Supergirl’s relationship only really became serious during the 1990s Earth Angel era. Back in the Silver Age, when the pair first met in Action Comics #276 (Apr 1961), Kara was initially weary of Brainy, recognising his family resemblance to Superman’s arch foe. Her attitude softened, however, as the story unfolded, even calling him “sweet” by its close. As the years rolled by Brainy is clearly smitten by Kara, but she rarely reciprocated his affections. Finally, in Legion of Super-Heroes Vol. 2 #294 (Dec 1982), Brainy brings matters to a close: “You remember that crush I had on you? [...] I think I’ve finally worked it out of my system.”. In response Kara teases, “Really? What a shame. Here I was, starting to think how cute you were.” (Needless to say, Brainy is left dumbfounded as Kara promptly flies off.)

Kara dated numerous men during the Silver and Bronze Age, including long-term relationships with Dick Malverne and Philip Decker, but these were generally in her Linda Danvers identity. Brainy is the closest thing “Supergirl” came to a boyfriend -- perhaps that’s why some fans like to focus more on him rather than Linda’s beaus.

52. She was a fan of The Bionic Woman.

One of the problems of being a superhero is that your evenings are often taken up saving the world, leaving little time to catch up with popular tv shows. But on her odd evenings off-duty, what was likely to be on the Maid of Might’s tv screen? Unsurprisingly, Kara seems to have been a fan of superheroine shows, as demonstrated by comments in Superman Family #184 (July 1977) while she was battling an unnaturally fierce electrical storm in the skies over Santa Augusta. “Great way to spend an evening out”, complains a frustrated Girl of Steel, “If this storm doesn’t let up, I’ll miss ‘The Bionic Woman--!’”

53. She was a big fan of seat belts and personal computers, apparently.

Being a superhero doesn’t pay very much, if anything at all. That’s why DC Comics always liked to line up product endorsements for its big stars, and the Girl of Steel was no exception. Supergirl’s first apparent appearance in adverts (outside of selling DC’s own magazines) was in a late 70s commercial for kid’s underwear, but pretty soon DC had secured more prestigious work for Kara when in 1981 they had her extol the virtues of Tandy’s new line of 8 bit micro computers. More important work came in the mid-80s, when Kara teamed up with Honda and the US Department of Transportation to promote the adoption of car seat belts. The Maid of Might appeared in two full-length give-away comics (and on-screen Helen Slater even appeared as Supergirl in a tv advert.) Kara was so committed to the cause of road safety that she even did the second give-away comic after her death in Crisis on Infinite Earths -- now that’s dedication for you..!

54. Only one woman worked on her comic-strip during the entire Silver and Bronze age.

It is a sad reflection of the industry in the 60s and 70s that if one totals up all the writers, artists, and editors, who worked on the Supergirl strip during the Silver and Bronze Age, there’s only one female name on the list: Dorothy Woolfolk. Editor for Supergirl Vol. 1 #1 (Nov 1972) only -- yup, a single issue -- Dorothy launched the Girl of Steel into her first self-titled comicbook before giving way to industry veteran Robert Kanigher for issue #2. Allegedly a larger-than-life figure, Dorothy was a rare example of DC allowing a woman to work outside of the romance genre during the Golden and Silver Age; she is even credited by some with suggesting the idea of Kryptonite to Superman writer Jerry Siegel.

(Away from Supergirl’s own strip, two other women briefly worked as editors on comics featuring the Girl of Steel in a guest capacity. Karen Berger and Laurie Sutton both edited 1980s Legion of Super-Heroes issues containing Kara cameos.)

55. Her most iconic costume contained a pair of clocks.

The problem with slinky skin-tight superhero costumes is that they don’t leave much room for the practical necessities of life... like pockets... or watches. But that never stopped the Girl of Steel from sneaking a few hidden practical elements into her outfits. Most fans know that the inner lining of her cape hides a secret pocket (where she stashes her everyday clothes when out superhero-ing), but how many fans realised that the three discs aligned over each hip on her iconic 70s hot pants outfit actually acted as a pair of clocks? According to Krypton Chronicles #2 (Oct 1981), by placing three fingers on the discs over her right hip Kara is telepathically informed of the time in New York (her then home), while the same action on her left hip reports the time in Kandor (Krypton’s capital, famously miniaturised in a bottle by Brainiac.)

56. The USA was actually one of the last countries to see the Supergirl movie.

The Girl of Steel may have been able to zip around the world in an instant, but apparently her movie couldn’t. After opening on Thursday 19th July 1984 in the United Kingdom, then days later in Ireland and Japan, the movie slowly made its way around the world, opening in the Philippines, Australia, and Spain during August, and then France and Canada during October. By mid-November, however, American audiences were yet to see the Maid of Might grace cinema screens.

The delay was caused by Warner Bros. withdrawing from its US distribution deal near the end of production, causing producers to scramble for a replacement. Eventually, on Wednesday 21st November -- over four months after the UK debut -- the Supergirl movie hit US cinema theatres thanks to fledgling distributor TriStar Pictures, but with almost 20 minutes of material chopped out. It wasn’t until 1998 that the full international cut was legitimately available in the US thanks to an Anchor Bay VHS video release.

57. She was Wonder Woman’s sister.

Incredible as it may seem, for a brief period Supergirl was Wonder Woman’s sister. The incident happened in Supergirl Vol. 1 #9 (Dec 1973) after Kara finally had enough of being two-timed by boyfriends as Linda Danvers, and hit upon by men as Supergirl. When Kara bravely rescues an Amazon warrior ship under attack by fierce sea creatures, Queen Hippolyta offers to adopt her as a daughter, making Kara the sister of Princess Diana (aka Wonder Woman.) Realising that the Amazon’s island home is free of men, Kara accepts, but a medical emergency forces her back out into the Man’s World to seek the ingredients for a serum. With the emergency over, Kara considers that maybe she was too hasty in turning her back on all men, and leaves her new Amazon home to give them a second chance.

58. She valued her privacy.

When you have as many extraordinary abilities as the Girl of Steel, the usual fears and phobias just don’t apply. Why be afraid of heights when you can fly? Why be afraid of snakes when your skin is not only fang proof, but bullet proof? But Daring New Adventures of Supergirl #4 (Feb 1983) revealed that there’s one thing guaranteed to make Kara Zor-El flee in terror -- fear of having her everyday identity exposed. The issue sees Kara hypnotised into seeing her greatest fear by the villain Ms. Mesmer: as a result Supergirl continually sees her Linda Danvers identity reflected back at her in windows and mirrors. Convinced that everyone can see through her disguise, Kara seeks solace with her adopted parents. It is only thanks to the calming influence of her mother, Edna Danvers, that Kara has the courage to go back out onto the streets as Supergirl to defeat Ms. Mesmer.

59. Her first kiss was with a very hirsute Jimmy Olsen.

The opening season of the Supergirl tv show teased a possible romance between Kara and James Olsen, and in some ways this echos very early Supergirl stories where the pair were occasionally seen as a potential love-match. Indeed Jimmy Olsen was actually Kara’s first kiss, although the event came about in a highly unorthodox way. The pages of Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #44 (Apr 1960) saw Jimmy transformed into a werewolf, and Superman reasons that the curse can only be lifted by the kiss of a young girl. In steps a fifteen year old Kara Zor-El, who gives the cub reporter a delicate peck on the lips, reversing the spell. A year later Jimmy managed to turn himself into a werewolf for a second time(!) in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #52 (Apr 1961), but Kara’s kiss proved ineffective that time.

60. She didn’t entirely die in Crisis on Infinite Earths.

Obviously it is a matter of record that the original Kara Zor-El gave up her life in Crisis on Infinite Earths #7 (Oct 1985) – at least until DC later saw fit to retcon that particular story line – but in their attempts to erase the Maid of Might from existence, DC had forgotten about a rather inconvenient story published just a year before, in Supergirl Vol. 2 #19 (May 1984).

The tale dealt with a Supergirl clone who had assumed the identity of Linda Danvers. The clone had no super powers, but she did have all of Kara’s memories and personality. The story ends with a twist: rather than take the easy way out by having clone-Kara conveniently fall under the wheels of a speeding bus, writer Paul Kupperberg has the two Kara’s work out a deal. ”It’s a big world out there… with plenty of room for two people with this face!“, explains Supergirl, “We can find a place for you… a name of your own…” And with that the two Karas go their separate ways, meaning that although superpowered-Kara may have surrendered her life in Crisis, powerless-Kara (her clone) presumably continued to live out a regular life anonymously somewhere in America.

And that’s it -- all sixty..! Thanks for reading, Hope you enjoyed the series and learned at least a few snippets of trivia along the way that you found amusing or thought-provoking.

Don’t forget to come back in 2048, when it will be time to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the Matrix Supergirl... Or maybe not..!

#supergirl #superhero #superman #dc #comics #superheroine #dccomics #silver age #bronze age #comicbooks #lex luthor

16 notes · View notes

auron570 · 5 years

Text

2018 Readlist

FAQ

Why do you read so many old books?

Because most of them belong to the public domain, and are thus freely available online. Also it is fun to see how much the past influences and creates the foundation for the present. And how much or how little has changed, and what this says about humanity.

Orwell - Animal Farm (1945)

A satire on the Russian Revolution and the failure of communism. Among other things, Animal Farm underlines the importance of learning to read properly and think for oneself, in a way that tickles with dark humor.

Orwell - 1984 (1949)

Similar to Animal Farm, 1984 is an even more systematic and total examination of a society where all history and information is tightly controlled and constantly being rewritten. Being published after WW2, 1984 trades some of Animal Farm’s humor for more serious and tragic imagery of concentration camps. In a sense, 1984 is an exploration of the possibility of mind control or brainwashing through societal-level propaganda.

Huxley - Brave New World (1932)

Absolutely fantastic. If 1984 was about what would happen if everything we read was false, then Brave New World is what would happen if no one had the desire to read at all. Brave New World shows a futuristic society that runs like clockwork with the help of genetic engineering and a miracle drug called Soma. COMMUNITY, IDENTITY, STABILITY. BNW examines the costs of a society that is mass-produced off assembly lines.

Fitzgerald - Great Gatsby (1925)

A criticism of conspicuous consumption and the Roaring 20s. You can’t bring your mansion with you when you die. Mortality sucks that way. Throughout the novel we are invited to ask ‘what makes Gatsby (the character) so great?’ From rags to riches to death, Gatsby’s lonely existence is pitiable, tragic and relatable as ever.

Steinbeck - Grapes of Wrath (1939)

Steinbeck’s illustration of the 1930s Dust Bowl and the resulting migration of impoverished families west across the United States, is a poetic masterpiece. ‘You want to work for 15cents an hour?! Well I got a thousan’ fellas willing to work 10cents an hour.’ Also featuring two of the strongest female characters in modern literature, Grapes of Wrath is a powerful lesson on human dignity.

Shakespeare - Hamlet (1599)

The more I read Hamlet, the more I come to the conclusion that Hamlet is about delay of action. In a way, Hamlet forces himself to be penitent for something he doesn’t do. The more time he spends contemplating whether or not to kill Claudius, the more time he has to beat himself up and call himself a coward, and for accidents to pile up. ‘But put your courage to the sticking place!’ Hamlet is what happens when you ask a philosopher to commit murder.

Shakespeare - King Lear (1605)

A lesson in parenting. If you want people (especially your children) to respect you, do not spoil them. Lear learns this lesson far too late, and gives up his inheritance far too early. Another possible lesson is to not trust liars, and instead divine a person’s character by their actions. The trouble is, with so much action going on behind the scenes, the opportunities for dramatic irony and treachery are twofold!

Wilde - Picture of Dorian Gray (1890)

An example of 19th century Gothic Romanticism. And also, similar to Great Gatsby, another cautionary tale against conspicuous consumption. Dorian Gray, forever beautiful, forever young, is by all appearances the outward ideal of a dandy. As the novel develops, his cruelty and vanity plunge to increasing depths.

Wilde - Importance of Being Earnest (1895)

The comedic side of being a dandy. If the suit makes the man, surely if I wear a different suit I become a different man? In a play of double-identities, love polygons and other trivialities, Earnest is a raucous upset of 19th century decorum.

Ibsen - Hedda Gabler (1891)

A complex and cruel character, Hedda’s penchant for destroying the lives of others, seems to stem from bitterness and boredom toward her own life.

Williams - Glass Menagerie (1944)

Theater is a box through which we view the lives of our fellow homo sapiens. Like passing by an exhibit at the museum, or peeking in on pandas at the zoo, Glass Menagerie presents a slice of life.

McCourt - Angela’s Ashes (1996)

A coming-of-age memoir about an Irish boy growing up in an impoverished family. From the day he’s born to the day he becomes a man, memorable moments include: father always coming home drunk, scavenging for coal to get the fire going, stealing loaves of bread, shoes made of tire rubber, having an affair with a terminally ill girl, having pig’s head for Christmas, and wearing Grandma’s old dress to stay warm at night.

Salinger - Catcher in the Rye (1951)

A tightly written story of teenage angst, about the few days after an unmotivated student drops out of a New York prep school. Unable to face his family, he wanders around the bustling city, growing increasingly depressed. Holden’s conversations with different characters throughout the novel, underline a simple moral that sometimes we just want someone to listen. (Preferably someone who isn’t a phony!)

Shakespeare - Macbeth (1606)

A bloody and ambitious soldier descends into madness after the murders the King! It can be difficult interpreting and staging the supernatural elements of the play (e.g. do you show the ghosts on stage? what about the Witches? When, why). But remember Shakespeare is writing in a time hundreds of years before modern psychology, where memory and cognition was still immaterial and mysterious. Similar to Dorian Gray (1890), Macbeth is a moral on how one’s actions affect one’s mind.

Albom - Tuesdays with Morrie (1997)

Succumbing to ALS near the end of his life, sociology professor Morrie Schwartz welcomes death with open arms. Hosting many visitors and having many conversations with family, friends, past students, the media, Morrie’s affable outlook on life and mortality shines.

Golding - Lord of the Flies (1954)

An allegory on the state of nature. One wonders if/how the story may have been different (and possibly more horrifying and prone to censorship debates) if female characters were involved. I suppose that would be a separate inquiry. Unable to see beyond the horizon, and unwilling to look at themselves, Jack and his follows almost doom them all.

Lowry - The Giver (1993)

Another science fiction dystopia in a similar vein as Brave New World or 1984, but less difficult and more relatable for teenagers. Those who enjoy The Giver, should check out the film Pleasantville (1998) featuring Tobey Macguire getting stuck in a black-and-white world. Naturally the lesson being that life is never so simple.

Naipaul - Miguel Street (1959)

A collection of short stories centered around unique characters in a slum in Port of Spain. Featuring arson, domestic violence and plenty of eccentric amateurs, Miguel Street illustrates a colorful community.

Thiong’O - Weep Not Child (1964)

Set during the Mau Mau Uprising against British colonial rule, Weep Not Child follows one boy’s goal of education. Meanwhile his family falls apart around him, and is cut off from his best friend.

Montgomery - Anne of Green Gables (1908)

Having recently been adapted by CBC/Netflix into a series (which is very good), the original novel is full of comedy, quaint coming-of-age lessons centered around school, tea parties, accidents and adventures. But despite this levity, Anne ends with a tragic turn which places it well within the realm of reality.

Shelley - Frankenstein (1818)

Another example of 19th century Gothic Romanticism (like Dorian Gray). Doctor Victor Frankenstein becomes obsessed with the idea of creating life from inanimate material, only to spurn his own creation just after giving life to it. The monster, filled with rage and envy, murders Frankenstein’s dearest friends. A sort of cautionary tale in the same vein as Doctor Faustus by Marlowe, Frankenstein is a counter-weight to the enthusiasm around science at the time. That science can not only produce miracles, but also horrors in its own way if one is not careful.

Anderson - Winesburg Ohio (1919)

A collection of short stories revolving around a small community (similar to Miguel Street). Themes of religion, old age, loneliness, love, feeling stuck in a small town, Winesburg is full of some of the most heart-rending stories in all literature. Also Winesburg manages to accomplish a unity of themes in very short space. The whole of Winesburg is much more than the sum of its parts, such that it can stand just as well against other great novels.

Bronte, Charlotte - Jane Eyre (1847)

One could argue that Jane Eyre is the predecessor to Anne of Green Gables. The latter frequently references the former, both are about orphan girls who grow up successfully in the face of many adverse challenges. While Anne ends with the protagonist becoming a young adult, Jane Eyre ends with a more traditional romantic happy ending, but like Anne is not without its tragedy.

Bronte, Emily - Wuthering Heights (1847)

Fun fact, Wuthering Heights was a novel I considered doing an independent study essay on, but didn’t since I didn’t know anything about literature back then. Although technically of the gothic genre, Bronte primarily uses cruelty and domestic violence to evoke scenes of horror, as opposed to ghosts and monsters, while at the same time using these as tools to explore very down-to-earth themes of social class and gender inequality.

Joyce - Dubliners (1914)

Very similar to Winesburg Ohio, but without the same unity. For example, one story is difficult to read without first reading about the history of Ireland. There are some tear-jerkers and lovely metaphors. For example the final metaphor of “snow falling faintly through the universe”, is a variation of the oft-used metaphor of flowers. How they bloom for a short period then die. What is new with this metaphor is that each snowflake is unique, thanks to the chaotic tumbling of water droplets through the atmosphere, just like how every live is unique. But all snowflakes much reach the ground some time and then melt away into nothingness.

44 notes · View notes

whatliesabove-blog1 · 6 years

Text

small, quiet room

Chapter nine | ao3

The New Year comes and goes fairly uneventfully, which is all Joyce could’ve really asked for. With a whirlwind of a 1983 and a harrowing 1984 in the aftermath of too many tragedies, she can only hope that 1985 will bring about… well, anything else.

Calm. Some joy, maybe.

That’s not to say she hasn't had any joy in the past two years, but she'd like some consistency. If a good day here and there is all she can get then she'll take it, of course, but she hopes there’ll be more good days than bad this year.

For her boys, especially. They’ve dealt with enough.

She rings in the year with her boys, Hopper, and El, who both come over for the festivities. Jonathan and the kids make their way over to the Wheeler's house after the ball drops to spend the night. This is much to the concern of both Joyce and Hopper, though she knows Jonathan will drive carefully and keep them all together.

This knowledge doesn’t stop her from making him promise to drive safely, to be aware of his surroundings and watch for potential drunks, and to call when they get to Karen’s.

With the kids gone, Joyce and Hopper are left a party of two.

"Maybe I'll go sit outside the Wheeler's," Hopper says a few minutes after they make their leave, already tying his boot laces.

She just manages to catch the arm of his jacket before he has a chance to reach the door. "What have we talked about. Giving them some space?"

"That's rich," he grunts, turning to look at her. "Who's the one who gave Will roughly ten feet of space at the Snow Ball?"

"That was a while ago, and if I remember correctly you were right there with me."

Hopper grumbles because what she's saying isn't a lie. With her hand tugging at the fabric of his jacket, he finally acquiesces and lets her lead him back to the couch to sit down.

"They're with Jonathan. And Nancy and Steve are there, too, and Karen and Ted, and all the kids. They'll be fine."

“Who are you and what have you done with Joyce?”

She rolls her eyes. “Funny.”

"I'm just surprised you're not more freaked out."

Joyce laughs. "Oh I'm having a small panic attack in here," she says, pointing to her chest, "but I trust my boys. Will's going to resent me if I keep him on any shorter of a leash, and El will do the same with you."

"I'm just trying to k–"

"Keep her safe, I know," Joyce finishes for him softly. "And she knows, too, but we have to ease up at some point."

With a sideways glance, he heaves out an exhale. "How about that point be next year?"

"Hop."

"Okay," he sighs.

Once she’s satisfied that he won’t try to make a break for the door the second she gets up, she decides to bring out the wine hidden in the back cupboard in the kitchen.

“Didn’t even know you had any alcohol here,” he laughs when he takes the glass from her. “You don’t have a beer hidden in that cabinet too, do you?”

“You’re out of luck. Now drink your wine.”

“You save this for special occasions or what?” Hopper eyes her, bringing the rim of the glass to his mouth. The dainty wine glass looks pitifully small, almost out of place in his broad hands. “A little Joyce Gone Wild?”

Joyce grins despite herself as she sits beside him on the couch. “Yeah, I go real wild with two boys home nearly every second I am,” she points out with a chuckle. “But yeah. Special occasions, rough days.”

Hopper nods as he takes another drink, and she knows that he understands what that’s like to need one after a stressful day.

And on those really bad days she'll let herself have a glass, but she tries not to use it as a crutch. That's the last thing she needs, the last thing her boys need. Which is why it’s in the cabinet, out of sight and out of mind.

She relaxes a bit more once Jonathan calls to let them know they've arrived safely, and after a few glasses (she doesn’t know how many, but she does know the bottle is now nearly empty) she looks down at Hopper, who has at some point slid down onto the carpet. He's leaning against the front of the cushion, legs stretched in front of him.

"Yeah, you're staying here," she laughs a little, covering her mouth when a small hiccup escapes.

Craning his neck backwards, he blinks at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You're not going home, Hop," she repeats. "I'm not letting you drive."

"I'm completely fine," he counters, grunting a little as he sits up straighter. With a clatter the wine glass collides with the coffee table, and she's surprised it doesn't crack. "Besides, it's New Years. There's no one even on the roads."

"Drunk driving is the exact thing you pull people over for," she points out as she stands, waving a finger around. "And I refuse to let you behind the wheel after... however many glasses you’ve had."

Hopper laughs. "It's wine, Joyce. I haven't gotten drunk off of wine in… well, never.” He takes notice of her small wobble. “You on the other hand...”

"Humor me, then."

She ignores his comment, and he shakes his head. He’s a big, solid man, and she’s a small woman, yes she knows the wine affecting her more.

When he opens his mouth with yet another rebuttal, she levels him with a look she knows he can't turn down. She’s been using this particular look on him since high school and it works like a charm.

In 5... 4... 3... 2...

Hopper relents with an exaggerated fine (though they both know he would’ve stayed anyway) and she grins, victorious.

"El won't be back until tomorrow anyway. You have nowhere to be," she chirps, pushing herself from where she’s leaning on the arm of the couch to move into the hallway.

The chill in the air helps fight against the buzz fogging her brain, and aside from a few teeters along the way she makes it to the closet to grab a few extra blankets and pillows without incident. It still gets pretty cold in the living room at night, and sometimes she’s positive it’s because of the hole she’d hacked into her own wall. Ridiculous, of course, since it’s been patched up for a long while now, rendered new again.

If someone didn't know the story, didn't know she'd axed her wall to get to her son lost in another realm, it'd look like a perfectly normal living room wall. But she knows what used to lie beyond that wallpaper.

Shaking herself from those thoughts, she piles the necessary items into her arms, kicks the linen closet door shut with her leg, and heads back to Hopper. He's migrated back onto the couch now, no longer sprawled on the floor like a teenager, and she smiles.

"Here," she greets him, plopping the pile onto the cushion beside him. "If you need more blankets they're in the closet in the hall."

"Thanks, Joyce."

The way he looks at her sends shivers down her spine, and it's worse because she's not even sure he knows he's doing it. His eyes are soft, so much softer than she's seen him recently (maybe ever, really, though in high school… in high school he wasn't as hardened as he is now), and she feels almost naked under his gaze.

Which is, again, absurd.

Get it together, Joyce.

Hopper suggests they have one last glass of wine since, and she quotes, "I've been grounded in the most literal sense."

She rolls her eyes. "You act like I'm keeping you prisoner."

"This would be one hell of a prison," he muses, looking around. "I could do time here."

She knows he's only talking about if it were a literal prison, not about wanting to spend more time in her home and with her, but her heart skips a beat at the mention regardless. She really needs to put a lid on these wayward feelings; she has no right to them.

Looking at the man beside her, who's pulled her down onto the couch next to him (effectively squishing all of the pillows beneath her body), she really has no right to feel this way. Whether he feels the same way or not – and she suspects he does, has suspected since she began dating Bob and the tiniest hints of jealousy became apparent – she can't.

"You're thinking," he says suddenly, and she snaps her gaze to him.

"If I wasn't thinking I'd be a little concerned."

He taps her temples. "You know what I mean," he says, and she's beginning to doubt the claim that he's never been drunk on wine before. He's acting… different. "Relax, Joyce."

Blowing out a breath, she tries. She does.

"I'm just…"

"1985 just started, you know. There can't possibly be something for you to panic about already."

And oh, how she wishes it were that simple. Because he’s right – 1985 is shaping up to be a good year so far in the, what, hour or so it's been happening. But what's got her so wrapped up is from so long ago, so far removed from this year she doesn't even know how to tackle it.

Wrapping his arm around her back, Hopper pulls her into his side, coaxes her to rest her head against his shoulder. She should pull away, politely go into her bedroom and lie down in her bed, but instead she lets herself soak in the comfort. Before long, her eyes begin to slip closed and her breathing slowly evens out a little.

Her palm finds its way to his chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt. Warmth immediately floods her system, spreads throughout her body like liquid. With his hand rubbing calming circles around her shoulder blades she forces herself to push it all back for a moment.

For a second, just enjoy this.

As relaxed as she feels on the outside, a little voice in the back of her mind continues to scream. You don't deserve this.

In another life, this is what she could have had. Hopper in her life, in a different capacity than he is right now, as more than this friend limbo they’re in. Hopper with his constant calming energy, keeping her sane in tough situations. She could've had all of this.

A troubled man with a tragic past, a smoking habit and more notches on his bedpost than she cares to count, but with a kind heart. Perhaps that wouldn't have happened, though, had she made different decisions.

A pang of guilt curls around her ribs at the thought. If she'd acted differently, made one different move, Hopper likely wouldn't have had Sara or married Diane. She wouldn't have had Will, either, and she loves that boy more than she loves herself. She'd never trade him for the world, not even one in which she never marries Lonnie, never gets used as his punching bag and never finds herself on the wrong end of town gossip. And she knows Hopper would never choose a life in which Sara never existed, despite the devastating outcome.

Even still, wondering gnaws at her.

Hopper's ministrations on her back slow before stopping completely and she thinks he's fallen asleep. She wonders if she should extract herself and head to bed, but then his palm cradles the back of her skull. It's there for a brief moment before it moves back down to her waist and settles there, but she can feel his fingers thread through her hair on the way down.

"Rest," he murmurs, and when he presses a kiss to her hair she freezes. He's definitely feeling the wine, already half asleep, which doesn't surprise her.

They don't do this; this isn't them.

"Hop…"

He hums.

Joyce delicately lifts his arm and curls out from his embrace, ignoring the cold she feels the second she does, and turns to face him.

"You're tired," she says, gaze trailing from his face to literally anywhere else. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

When he doesn't object, just situates himself horizontally on the couch, she knows he's really out of it. Standing, she once again grabs at the blankets she'd brought out before and begins to unfold them.

"What, you gonna tuck me in?" he laughs, eyes hooded.

Sometimes she forgets he has a kid to look after too, that he has to handle El and her powers even after long days of being the Chief of Police and dealing with the people of Hawkins.

No wonder he's tired.

"Yeah, you big baby," she teases right back, instructing him to lift his head so she can shove a pillow under it. "I'd read you a bedtime story but I think you've heard them all."

Eyes now closed, he sighs. "I'd listen to your voice anyway," he mumbles. It's quiet, barely there, and the way he doesn't react tells her he either doesn't know he's said it out loud or is unaware she heard him.

Her heart is in her throat, fluttering against her skin, and she hastily unfolds the last blanket and drapes it across his large body. He doesn't quite fit on her couch, his legs hanging off a little, but he doesn't seem to mind. It's better than the floor.

Hopper's asleep in mere minutes and she chuckles in spite of herself. She grabs both of their glasses and brings them into the kitchen, depositing them into the sink to be washed tomorrow.

Once in the comfort of her own bedroom, door closed, she drops herself onto the edge of her bed. With her elbows resting on her thighs, face in her open palms, she lets out a shaky breath.

Here she has Hopper being sweet and feely in her living room, two words she wouldn't necessarily associate with him. He's always been kind, with her at least, but this is different. And with the addition of these emotional comments spewing from his mouth she doesn't know how to take it. He's finally expressing something and she can't even be happy about it, can't reciprocate it at all because she's too busy feeding the immense guilt that's built up in her veins.

He's spending Christmas and New Years with her family, with her boys, and he has no idea he's spending it with his family too. In an abstract sense he may feel that way, sure, but in the literal sense he has no idea.

He spent the holidays this year with his son and he's none the wiser. Likewise, Jonathan spent the holidays with his father and he has absolutely no clue.

That's all on her, she knows.

There have been many moments throughout the years—hell, throughout the past two alone—where she's almost said something, almost blurted it out, almost took the weight off of her shoulders and did the right thing, but she didn't. Staying silent was cowardly, still is.

The longer it goes on the more impossible it seems to even speak the words anymore.

With each passing day it gets harder, more difficult to even fathom letting the truth go, out from the safe cage of her body where it's lived for the past seventeen years.

#jopper #joyce x hopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #getting into the real ~drama of the story next chapter finally #starting to at least #woo

25 notes · View notes

theonewiththeeyebrows · 7 years

Text

My OMGCP!AU Headcanon

Gosh this got super long.

Character dev for Jack!Derek and Bitty!Stiles (and some of the others) -- a bit different from OMGCP!

Warning/Disclaimer: I know nothing about Hockey FYI. I have never even seen a game. All my knowledge comes from OMGCP, wikipedia, the NCAA, NHL, and various other HL websites/resources. OMGCP belongs to ngoziu you can read it omgcheckplease it is a brilliant story (I love it so much!).

Jack!Derek - Son of Talia & Jerome Hale (The Hockey Power Couple); Brother of Laura Hale (2016 Olympic Figure Skating Gold Medalist)

Talia Maheegan was of the few non-Goalie women Hockey Players in Professional Men’s Hockey. She was part of the Women’s Hockey team at Beacon Hills University before she was recruited by Leksands IF (Elitserien, now the Swedish Hockey League). A few years later she was offered a contract by the Bakersfield Condors. She was ready to be closer to home, so she came back although she was a woman, when a few of the guys in the NHL team got badly injured, she was moved up to the Oilers roster.

She met her future husband, Jerome Hale, when the Oilers played the Bruins in her rookie game and she gave him a nosebleed. She was the first female Alternate Captain for the Oilers when they won the Stanley Cup in 1984. And the first female Captain when they won in 1985. She retired in 1986 when she was pregnant, had twins Laura and Derek.

Jerome Hale played for the Bruins but was traded in 1985-86 he was the Captain of the Oilers from 1987-1993 - Derek pooped in the Stanley cup twice during that time - in 1987 & 1988.

Derek and Laura started skating young, Laura wasn’t into Hockey, but she started enjoying figure skating, and took that route.

(Strike throughs are for humanAU)

Derek looked up to both his parents and wanted to follow in their footsteps. He went into the Juniors where he met Kate Argent (maybe Kate’s dad hated her and Talia for being women in a Men’s sport or something, so there was a lot of sexism and prejudice there, and internalized misogyny maybe? If werewolves exist in this verse then she’s from a werewolf hunter family as is canon and she is using him to get info as is canon). She was beautiful and ambitious, and Derek and Kate became good friends, best friends even... then more. There was a lot of pressure to do well in the juniors as it would lead into the draft which would lead to the NHL. He worked hard and honed his skills for two years before he could enter the draft.

Kate’s brother was also in the Juniors, but he was reaching the maximum age for both the draft and the league. There was a lot of talk about how Derek was top pick. Kate would keep getting in his head, Derek was on anxiety meds since he joined the juniors, Kate knew and she kept telling him to take more so that he wasn’t off his game. Just before the draft picks his parents, younger sister, aunt and uncle got into a fatal car accident with no survivors (a drunk driver drove them off the road If werewolves exist -- Gerard put a hit on the family and got them killed -- but obvs. can’t get Derek and Laura now it would be too suspicious). Laura was at a Figure Skating meet in Europe.

Derek took his anxiety meds, alcohol and something that Kate slipped him and had a reaction that sent him to the hospital. He wakes up to Laura slumped at his bedside still in her leotard. He pulls out of the draft, the media calls it an overdose, he doesn’t correct them. He goes to a rehab center after his family’s memorial service. Laura sorts out everything with the legal team while he is in rehab.

When he gets out he supports her while she continues working on her figure skating and he tries to figure out his life without hockey. And he can’t. One day Laura comes in throws down a Beacon Hills University Pamphlet on the counter, and when Derek looks at her questioningly, she says “Ma went there. It’s where she truly fell in love with Hockey. They would want you to be happy, Der! I want you to be happy. You’re miserable, please. Think about it. You can major in History and play Hockey. I already called the coaches, they’ve already said they’d give you a Scholarship if you wanted it.”

Derek gets on the ice for the first time in one and a half years. He’s rusty, but it’s in his blood. He trains hard for 3 months before he thinks he’s fit enough to go to college. He applies anyways. He gets in -- even without the Scholarship -- he was good enough to.

Bitty!Stiles - Son of Claudia (former Figure Skater) and Sheriff Noah Stilinski

Stiles’ mother dies when he is eight, and Stiles is kinda lost after that. When he’s 10 he finds his mom’s cooks books and he feels a connection to her again so he starts baking. He bakes more than he or his dad can eat, so he takes the excess to the Sheriff’s station (where his dad works) or to the farmer’s market where he makes money off of his pies.

There is this huge rift between him and his dad, and he can’t seem to figure out how to mend it. He loves his dad, and he knows his dad loves him. But his dad started drinking after his mom died, and his mom was the glue in the family. Sometimes his dad looks at him and gets this pained look in his eyes and Stiles thinks it’s because he looks so much like her.

Stiles started ice skating with his mom because she used to be a figure skater. She taught him all sorts of neat tricks and even tried to get him to enter a few competitions, but after she died it became another thing that became harder to do. He still went skating every weekend, but he didn’t really feel like figure skating anymore.

His dad coached peewee football, so in an effort to bond with his dad, Stiles joined the football team but when he gets tackled within the first thirty seconds, and ends up with a compound fracture, it instills the fear of God in him, and he refuses to ever go back, regardless of what his dad says.

How he ends up playing Hockey is a mystery to him because Hockey is a high-contact sport just like football. But he’s in a co-ed no-contact Hockey team and he meets some amazing people. He starts enjoying being on the ice again, and he starts feeling another connection to his mother -- so he starts figure skating again as well -- just a little bit -- nothing like the fancy stuff his mother made him learn.

Stiles’ was always the underdog, he was bullied in high-school because his mother died. He was bullied because his dad was a policeman, he was bullied because he came to school in a cruiser, he was bullied because he looked weird, or talked weird, or had ADHD. He didn’t have friends (not for lack of trying). He was called homophobic slurs because he did figure skating and couldn’t take a hit (he’s bi, thanks a lot for bi-erasure assholes! at least call him the bi-phobic slurs!) He can’t find a place for himself so he starts a v-log his Junior year of high school. For some reason people enjoy his sarcasm coupled with the sweet baked goods he tutors them on. So he keeps making the videos.

His dad can’t afford to send him to College, but he has a few options though -- a merit Scholarship (but his ADHD make it hard for him to keep his grades up), a Federal Load (does he want the government hounding him for years after he graduates), a Sports Scholarship (can he get into the NCAA?). He applies to BHU because Beacon Hills is still in California (so he’s still close to his dad, but far enough away that it’s a few hours away by road or at least a short flight away). He send a tape of him playing Hockey as well as figure skating to the Coaches along with his Scholarship Application. He didn’t expect to -- but he gets in! His dad is so proud. He comes out to his dad, but his dad doesn’t believe him. Stiles doesn’t let that bum him out though -- he’s going to college.

BHMH

Isaac, Boyd (Sophomores) - Live in the Attic the Haus - best friends. Boyd is quiet and constant. Isaac is sassy and loud. Together they are constantly coming up with all kinds of shenanigans. They are the ones who handle all the parties and know pretty much everyone there is to know on campus.

Jordan (Junior like Derek) - Lives at the Haus - is everyone’s best friend. But isn’t wild/crazy. Is wildly popular. He is beautiful and used to be a model. He is a women’s and gender studies major, but he’s also studying pre-law and criminology.

Greenburg as suggested by Nonnie (Senior) - The metaphysical Goalie - LOL - I couldn’t think of who else to put here - I guess I could have added Peter (but I really don’t like him, maybe he can be a lax bro) - gives his dibs to Stiles.

Erica, Allison (Sophomores) - Non-Goalie team-mates who initially faced sexism from the senior teammates (not from Derek or Jordan) but proved themselves after their preseason when they took down the biggest player skate circles around all the other players, not giving up the puck even once (but also refusing to score because the guys on their team are assholes). They live in an apartment near the Haus together. They were not surprised when Jordan got the dibs instead of one of them (Derek got dibs from the outgoing captain his freshman year, when Derek was voted incoming Captain).

Scott (Freshman like Stiles) - Stiles’ Roommate, becomes Stiles’ best friend. Wants to be a vet. Is a Derek Hale fan, but doesn’t like Derek in RL. Is a cuddle monster. Is smitten with both Kira and Allison.

Kira is the Manager (Sophomore) - Doing a semester in Japan (Studying Art and Mythology). Cannot ice-skate.

Lydia is a girl who Stiles crushes on in one of his classes, and he invites her to Epikegster and she says yes (but as a friend). She is into Jordan. When Jordan finds out he tries to dissuade her even though he is hella into her brains and beauty combo. Stiles is bummed, but he can’t deny his friend someone awesome like Lydia. So he totally gives Jordan a thumbs up, and tells him to pursue it. Lydia and Stiles get to know each other over time and realize how great they are as friends, anything else would have been Chaos. This is also around the time Stiles starts to realize he has major feelings for Derek. Feelings that make his stomach swoop, and his breath catch, and blood rush to his cheeks, even though Derek doesn’t really do anything (other than buy him his favourite coffee, or bake a perfect lattice crust for their American Food and Culture Class, or take his cold finger into his warm hands and rub them, just to hopefully bring some warmth because he knows how cold Stiles gets (Mt. Shasta gets really cold compared to San Diego).

Jackson and Peter can be the dreaded Lax bros. idk. Peter isn’t related to Derek.

[Part 2]

#omgcp #zimbits #check please!#check please #teen wolf #Sterek #otp: sterek #t writes #t writes fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

markwatkinsconsumerguide · 7 years

Photo

Consumer Guide / No.40 / Maggie K de Monde (Swans Way & Scarlet Fantastic) with Mark Watkins.

MW: Maggie, you wrote your first song - “Gloriana” - aged 14. Can you recall the first two lines? What's the story behind it?

MKDM : Mark, the first two lines were : “ Mrs Moffat’s done a bunk, the barbs she ate made her a punk. She flies higher, cooler higher, in her automatic Hotpoint spin drier.”

“Gloriana” is an imaginary state of grace/imaginary place where everything is calm and full of love, and there is no suffering, and everything and everyone is in perfect harmony. A Utopian fantasy. I think I was very influenced by the TV show Rock Follies at the time!

MW: How did Swans Way, then Scarlet Fantastic, come about?

MKDM: I met Rick P Jones at Kent uni where I was studying French and Drama. Rick was a guitarist. We formed our first band Playthings, and then we met Robert Shaw and decided to do something completely different - which to us, meant ditching our original instruments and starting afresh on something new. Hence me playing the drums!! We read a lot, and watched a lot of old '50s movies, and listened to many soundtracks (French and Italian). We were looking for some different influences. Marcel Proust wrote a novel, “Swann’s Way”. I think we may have chosen our name as a nod to this, although we spelt our name differently, as we didn’t want people to think that we were all about the book.

After the release of a critically acclaimed album, The Fugitive Kind, Rick and I became restless, and decided we wanted to take a different musical direction. We weren’t inspired by Swans Way any more. We bought our own studio gear and Rick learned to programme drum machines and synths etc and we came up with a glam/pop/electro/ kind of sound which seemed quite unique to us at the time. We were into larger than life imagery and big slogans: - “Energy Breeds Energy” , “Deconstruct the bad vibes” and many more. I think we felt we were on a bit of a mission, we were very much into the idea of spreading peace and love! We used to describe our sound and imagery as a mix of the REAL the SURREAL and the FANTASTIC. We needed a name that encompassed all this so we chose Scarlet Fantastic! Rick used to make a joke and say it was the colour of my lipstick!

MW: How did Swans Way and Scarlet Fantastic compare and contrast?

MKDM: I think there were similarities in the sense that we were out on our own, doing our own thing, writing songs from the heart, but sound wise there were definite differences as Swans Way had a very organic sound and Scarlet Fantastic was more electro. Lyrics were a very important part of both projects.

MW: Tell me about Duran Duran...

MKDM: Rick and I were in our first band Playthings before Swans Way. Duran Duran used to say that we were the other best band in Birmingham apart from themselves. Birmingham back in the '80s was a very close knit scene, everyone knew everyone. We toured with Duran Duran as they had their first hit “Planet Earth”. I was with Simon sound checking for a gig at Aston Uni when they received the news that “Planet Earth” had charted. Simon was a big, friendly, bouncy ex-drama student, always the flirt too!! Jon Taylor was the one who was always perceived as the cool one (I guess he was initially a little shy). My mum had a cup of tea with him once and said: “what a lovely boy he is!” . Nick Rhodes was the one who people would sometimes say had a tendency to be somewhat of a poseur, but I think he was genuinely into quite diverse and left field art projects etc. Andy Taylor the guitarist was the most down to earth, a salt of the earth Northern lad and Roger Taylor the drummer just always looked incredibly cool!!

MW: …careless memories of BBC Radio 1?

MKDM: I used to love doing Radio one sessions, going to the big studios in Maida Vale and then getting all excited when the sessions would air. Swans Way played live several times on Radio One sessions but I can’t remember whose show we were on. Janice Long was a great supporter of ours along with her producer Mike Hawkes.

MW: ...TV appearances?

MKDM: I think Top Of The Pops and The Tube were always my faves. Both shows were iconic for their time. I miss them both, and sadly there seems nothing like them today. The Tube made several really interesting films of Swans Way and Scarlet Fantastic ; it’s so great that those time were captured on celluloid and can now be see on YouTube all these years on!

MW: Maggie, tell me about your new album Reverie...

MKDM : Well Mark, I called my new album Reverie as I felt the word describes the sound. Reverie is released on Dirtbag Baby Records and it’s distributed by Right Track through Universal. It’s a gentle, dreamy alt-folk album. A journalist recently described it as ethereal folk. It’s a very song based album. I wanted the emphasis to be on my voice and my words. I had an idea for the overall sound and it was a joy to work with my husband and musical partner on it, Mark Leif Kahal, he produced it and played most of the instruments on it too. We really went for clarity and an uncluttered sound. The songs were very much influenced by dreams and nature. There are many similar themes to the original Scarlet Fantastic from 30 years ago but the sound on this new album is very different. It’s more in keeping with my previous album Union which was by Maggie and Martin, a collaboration I did with Marc Almond’s keyboard player.

MW: OK, let’s talk books...

MKDM: The most recent book I read was written by my friend Clayton Littlewood, “Dirty White Boy”. It’s about a shop he had on Old Compton St., and the daily goings on with all the Soho locals. It’s hysterical. It’s a real fun read and it’s in a diary form as Clayton started off by blogging but ended up turning it into a novel. I love his observations of people and places, he’s so insightful and so funny!

My next read will be a re-read, “Tender is the night”, by Scott Fitzgerald. It’s been on my mind often lately and definitely needs a revisit. I love the time it’s set in and I’ve been enjoying a lot of artists from this period recently too. I have also just bought “Testimony” by Robbie Robertson; I can’t wait to to get tucked into this! I’m a huge fan of his and the whole period with all his contemporaries, some legends. It’s meant to be a brilliant book.

MW: Which newspapers can’t you live without?

MKDM: I read The Guardian and The London Evening Standard. Simon Jenkins is one of my favourite journalists. On world news, I’m a big Christiane Amanpour fan.

MW: What are the best and worst aspects of social media?

MKDM: The best aspects are being able to spread the news about my work and to connect and reconnect with people/old friends/new friends/like minded people etc. I enjoy learning about new projects and hearing reactions to world situations etc. I feel the whole “community” aspect of it can be a positive thing. The worst aspects are the cruelty and bullying that can occur, especially amongst teens. I think people can also waste way too much time on social media and forget about/neglect real life. I do know that it does help socially isolated people and lonely people which is a very positive thing.

MW: List your Top 10 favourite EIGHTIES albums...

MKDM:

1 Joshua Tree - U2 (1987) 2 This is The Sea - Waterboys (1985) 3 Faith - George Michael (1987) 4 Kick - INXS (1987) 5 Purple Rain - Prince (1984) 6 Let’s Dance - Bowie (1983) 7 Sign o’ the Times - Prince (1987) 8 The Lion and the Cobra - Sinead O'Connor (1987) 9 Fisherman's Blues - The Waterboys (1988) 10 Hounds of Love - Kate Bush (1985)

Each album I’ve listed here reminds me of a very specific time in my life and a very specific feeling evoked when listening to the music. My life’s journey has been accompanied by some very poignant soundtracks. I spent a very special time in South Africa with my father before relocating to Dublin which was full of magic. Throughout my African experience then onto my Dublin experience, before, during and after, The Joshua Tree held a very special kind of magic for me as did the top 5 albums I’ve listed, all of them in fact! Very hard trying to pick the favourite. All sensational and played an important part in my life, helped me through a few things and celebrated with me too!

MW: Which BOWIE song is your favourite? How did you feel on hearing the sad news of his death?

MKDM: Mark - I was devastated when I heard of his death. It’s so difficult trying to pick one favourite song, I have many but one which never fails to move me is “Wild is the Wind”.

MW: You live in Eastbourne. What do you enjoy doing along the South Coast?

MKDM: I love the nature here. I walk and cycle often and spend a lot of time by the sea. I’m enjoying painting again. We have a fantastic modern art museum here, affiliated with the Tate, so I’m often there. We have some great record shops and cafes and some amazing restaurants too (I’m a real foodie!!). I often hop over to St. Leonards, Hastings or Brighton. London isn’t far either. I travel a lot around the South East as there is always a lots going on. Music, art shows etc. I have my own studio so I record a lot of stuff here too.

MW: … plans for 2017?

MKDM: I have a song “Heartbreak House” on Hifi Sean’s album Hifi Sean Ft. The video for the song will be released shortly. I filmed it in St Leonards, it’s turned out to be a rather neo-Gothic affair! Sean is ex-Soup Dragons, his album is doing very well, his track with Crystal Waters has just gone into the Top 40. There are some interesting artists on the album, Yoko Ono, Fred B52’s, David Mc Almont and many many more. As well as being a part of that I’m writing new material and I’m also painting a series of still lifes in oils. You can keep up with me on my Facebook musician pages, Maggie K de Monde, Scarlet Fantastic and Swans Way. There is also a website www.scarlet-fantastic.co.uk

0 notes