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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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Artistic Instinct Chapter 1

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 2,595

Warnings: Language.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!

This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

In art, as in love, instinct is enough.

Anatole France

Chapter 1:

That look crosses your face. The one that all your teachers at school said was a perfect mimicry of theirs. The one that forces grown men and women to quieten and pay attention. With your eyebrows slightly raised and a look of stop-fucking-about-and-listen in your eyes, the room grows quiet and attentive as the glow of the presentation lights up behind you.

“Have you ever wondered what makes art unique? Is it the piece of art itself or the hand that created it?” you address the latest batch of students coming through Mi5’s doors. Whilst it is highly probable that the majority of these trainee intelligence officers will not specialise in forgeries as it doesn’t quite capture the glory of fighting extremism, you only want those who truly cared to join forces with your team. Although, what team? Stephens had pretty much washed his hands of you after your latest exploits. Who knows what your new team on Monday would bring. You are too old to try and squeeze yourself into the buttoned up box that Mi5 like their agents to fit into and whilst your old team never expected you to completely toe the line, you knew where the boundaries lay. Or at least, you thought you did.

“If a perfectly painted Rembrandt or a superbly sculpted Rodin appears to be vivid as the original to the point where even an educated eye cannot spot the difference, why does authenticity matter?” you pose to the class. “The fact is, every artwork is an unparalleled expression of an individual creative talent and a result of a precise personal, historical and cultural context. Art forgeries, even if aesthetically pleasant or technically stunning, can cause serious misinterpretations with extremely damaging consequences for the art world and anti-money laundering services.” A couple of polite coughs, a not so polite yawn and a few shuffles of aching bums on their uncomfortable benches punctuate your lecture. You couldn’t blame them. This isn’t where you want to be either.

This lecture was a punishment by Stephens for your latest step out of line. He probably would have looked the other way if your paperwork had been correctly filed but it was still somewhere, half done on your quagmire of a desk. You’d love to be organised but that was for other people, who had their shit more together than you. The punishment slowly crawls to an end and the students gather their belongings and filter out of the theatre. Glad to not have any questions posed, you squeeze your eyes shut to try and rest them against the sharp light flowing from the overhead projector.

“Perhaps you missed your calling as a teacher?” a voice scoffs from the back of the room as you log out of the computer.

“Don’t be a total cockwomble,” you mutter in the direction of the voice that was now attached to a hand offering a steaming cardboard cup of black Americano.

“Oh I can see it now! Instead of teaching the ins and outs of international art crime, you could be doing finger painting and collages- your skin shimmering with a film of glitter!” Hephzi snorts into the foam of her chai latte. Your best friend from the first day of training knows how to lift your spirits with her subtle teasing and caffeine bribery.

After a gulp of coffee sets your blood caffeine level at its normal level, you poke her in the ribs before hugging her one-armedly. “Are we still on for tonight?” you ask, “I have severe cravings for halloumi fries and a massive mixed kebab while we lose ourselves in a nouvelle vague classic?”

“You truly walk a fine line between cultured intelligenzia and Friday night British food, my darling girl!” Hephzi purrs as she scoops one of your totes filled with scribbles and dog-eared books, tossing it over her shoulder, settling it next to the strap of her rucksack.

With a gentle roll of your eyes, you huff at her suggestion, threading your arm through her elbow and follow her out of the poorly lit lecture theatre towards the late afternoon gloom of a London March day.

✪✪✪✪✪

All airports are hell.

The black on yellow signs of Heathrow buzz like angry bees through Marcus’ mind after the seven hour flight from DC, the recycled aeroplane air still sitting heavy on his skin. He’d been to London many times and knew the airport like the back of his hand so his semi-zombified state isn’t an issue through the warren of staircases and corridors that make up Terminal 4. As he watches the slow, steady spin of the baggage claim, he rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. Even despite his escape to DC, it still wasn’t quite far enough from Lisbon and Jane, the ghosts of their relationship haunting him through the hallways and offices, dreading seeing the toxic pair around the next corner.

Grabbing a small grey case, with his most treasured possessions that he didn’t want shipping over, he didn’t really look like someone who should be heading up the Five Eyes department of Art Crime. He just feels old, tired and irritated that he could just not shake the ghosts of his past.

The failed marriage.

The failed engagement.

Dressed in an old pair of jeans, a white henley and a baggy grey hoodie with suitcases rather than bags under his eyes, he looks more a middle aged, world weary man, than the sharpest American mind in art crime. As he heads towards customs, his navy passport in hand, he wonders if he’ll be pulled over again as he was in Lyon. He’d obviously matched a profile somewhere but there were certainly red faces all around when he’d got the American Embassy to ring through and explain that Marcus was exactly who he’d said he was. Fingers crossed, eh?

He needn’t have been worried. There was no price on his face today.

“Marcus Pike?” a slightly Northern, male voice asks gently.

Marcus swung out of his airport reverie, raised his eyebrows and smiled warmly in the direction of the voice.

“Andy Welbeck,” a large warm hand stretches towards Marcus, “I’m going to be your PA whilst you’re in London. I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty to grab you a coffee- it’s a vanilla latte? I did check with the staff at your DC office as to what your preferred drink would be.”

Gripping the hand tightly, and accepting the steaming coffee, Marcus feels a wave of warmth and friendship wash over him from the handsome, young man in front of him. “This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!” he goofily quotes and then instantly could have facepalmed- like this twenty-something would have any idea about Marcus’ favourite film!

Andy read the man’s discomfort like a book, raising a hand to soothe his awkwardness, “Casablanca is a favourite of mine- how is a film so incredibly quotable and still has such an incredible plot?” Reaching for the handle of Marcus’ wheeled suitcase, Andy continues, “in fact to me, the only other film that manages it, albeit with less of a plot is Withnail and I.”

The tension eases from Marcus’ brown as the younger man’s ease at conversation flowed naturally as they headed to Andy’s car. “So how are you feeling about Monday? Have you had a chance to check out the team yet?” Andy questions gently.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, trying to lift the airport-flattened curls. “I have read their files, but I was wondering if you’d give me your point of view on the ones you already know?”

“Obviously, I can fill you in on the Brit - and the Canadian, who arrived a week early and still hasn’t stopped apologising.” Andy added with an eye roll, “Harper Gleason doesn’t get in from Melbourne until tomorrow morning, Kiritopa arrives on Sunday so I shall be moving my flat from Lewisham to Heathrow arrivals gate over the next couple of days.”

“Oof!” Marcus exhales, shaking his head in sympathy, “Ouch- is there anything we can do to make it easier? We could just order cabs for them? I need you in one piece for next week!”

“That wasn’t meant in any way as a moan, Sir. It’s the perfect opportunity to make some important first impressions.” Andy delivers firmly, “So, the Canadian is sweet as fuck. She’s super bright and just needs to stop apologising for everything. Dian seems to have this way of watching and seeing the very essence of people. Her clarity of understanding people around her is incredible. She will be such an asset to the team.”

“Great! What about Anushka?” Marcus enquired as he read down the list on his emails.

Andy laughs heartily, hitting the heel of his palm against the steering wheel. “Ah Nush, Nush, Nush! Where to start with my little firecracker?”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise at this reaction and then furrow. “There’s not much in her file apart from her personal info and yet she’s been with Mi5 since leaving university almost twenty years ago?”

“Probably had to be redacted, Sir.” Andy grins lopsidedly at Marcus.

“Please don’t call me sir- Marcus only! Stephens put her forward as one of the best?”

“She most certainly is. She’s also a bit of a car crash- albeit the most endearing one there is- but I can honestly say that if she lets you in, Nush will sweep you off your feet with her brilliance.”

Marcus ruminates over this information and the photo of you attached to your file. A striking woman with almond shaped eyes, olive skin and a Cupid bow mouth stared back him with a slightly raised eyebrow as if she was daring him to disagree with her. Scratching at the scruff on his face, he wonders quite what he’d gotten himself into, heading up the art division of 5 Eyes and being based in London for at least two years.

“Here you are, Sir, I mean, Marcus. This will be your digs until you find something a little more to your taste.” Andy shifts forwards in his seat to point out Marcus’s new building- a large newly built block stretching into the sky above them. “GHCQ have rented the penthouse suite for you for six months to give you time to settle in. I live roughly five minutes in that direction so please don’t hesitate to call any time. No penthouse for me, but it’s home!”

“Thank you so much, Andy. I’m grateful for the welcome you’ve shown me. This will be a great partnership.” Marcus pats Andy’s shoulder. “Whilst I promise not to bug you too much, can we go out for a drink sometime? If you’re local, it’d be nice to have someone to introduce me to the area.”

“Marcus, I’ve already got you pencilled in for a pint on Friday- you don’t need to worry, I’ve got your back.”

✪✪✪✪✪

“Fuck. Where the ever loving fuck are my fucking keys?” You grumble as you rootle through your rucksack. Years of receipts and scraps of paper with doodles from dull meetings obstructed your view and hindered your search for those elusive metal bastards that stood between you and your comfiest jammies, your sofa and A Bout de Souffle.

“For goodness sake, woman! So glad I got my own key cut.” Hephzi shakes her head, “Out of the way.”

“If you didn’t have a key, I’d have to live on my doorstep more!” you snigger to yourself.

As she turns the key, the door needs a swift kick to open it fully. “Has your landlord still done nothing about the damp here?”

“Course not!”

“Want me to send a couple of my brothers around? Sort him out?”

“Mate, I have three useless oiks of my own I could call on for the same outcome. No point in poking the bear,” you shrug resignedly. Hephzi licks her lips as you split the food between two plates- the rice and chickpeas spilling over the side onto the surprisingly clean work tops.

“Your mum been over?”

“How can you tell?” Your eyes crease in laughter, “Genuinely, I think she believes I’m a bit broken. All my brothers married and babied up and her only daughter is living in a shitty, ex LA, messy, damp filled flat and a nameless “IT” job that she wears an invisible ring for!” Your left hand does the Single Ladies dance as Hephzi roars with laughter.

With a glass of wine and a heaped plate of food in hand, you kick some of the cushions from the sofa onto the floor. “Do you ever see yourself meeting someone or are you just too married to the job?” Hephzi pries gently, knowing that even with her closeness to you that the door could quickly slam in her face.

“Honestly?” Your eyebrows slightly raise, “I’m not sure that my mum isn’t too far from the truth. Too broken for anyone who’d I’d let get close.” Hephzi snorts. “Excuse me! I let people get close! Well, as close as I’d like them to be.”

“You’re not broken, just guarded. To be completely honest, I just think you haven’t met anyone deserving of you yet.” Hephzi reaches over and pats your thigh.

You exhale sharply and shake your head as you mutter quietly gesturing towards the cluttered flat, “No one deserves this. Now shush, I need to escape into the black and white.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus shrugs his hoodie off as he enters the sparsely decorated apartment, his eyes roaming around his new home. New job. New country. How long could he keep running from his past? With a sigh and rolling up the sleeves of his Henley over gently muscled arms, he starts unpacking his suitcase.

In some of the drawers, he found some basic t-shirts, pants and hoodies with a note from Andy saying, “Just in case your luggage gets lost!” In the cupboard, there are two suits- one navy and one grey and five shirts. Perfect size, fit and style. Is there anything this man doesn’t know about him? Marcus lets out a nervous laugh- kinda seems like Andy is underused as a PA and should be put into the field!

A light filled, floor to ceiling tiled en-suite with a full sized tub and separate shower was lined with expensive smelling shower gels, shampoos and creams. Opening one, and inhaling deeply Marcus cocks an eyebrow as he enjoys the cedar, amber and rosemary scent. He is dragged back to that heady summer honeymoon he’d spent with his ex-wife in the South of France, drinking glasses of sauternes with frozen grapes keeping it cool as the air carried the scent of the lavender fields and sun warmed herbs floated on the mistral. That familiar ache returns to his chest, but perhaps it is time to lay that ghost to rest.

Marcus walks further into his discovery of the beautiful apartment. The kitchen is small but functional with two French doors that open onto a small Juliet balcony looking towards Canary Wharf and the many towers that organised all the money coming into the UK. All of the cupboards in the kitchen are stocked with a basic range of cooking ingredients and the fridge even has a few ice cold beers and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

“Andy, whatever you’re being paid, it isn’t enough.” Marcus sighs and reaches for a beer, grabbing a bottle opener from the top drawer. It almost feels like it could become home.

Whatever that is.

Ok some notes:

5 Eyes is a real thing- used for sharing information about international terrorism between those countries named above.

An ex-LA home means ex local authority home. Post world war 2, Britain built a lot of social housing which Maggie Thatcher allowed in the eighties to be sold off to private buyers at a lower price to not local authority buildings. They’re not necessarily the prettiest but as the owner of an ex-LA home, they are solidly built and with a great amount of storage space!

The mistral is a strong, cold, northwesterly wind that blows from southern France into the Gulf of Lion in the northern Mediterranean

I welcome any comments, questions or just chats!

tagging: @astroboots for your perusal

@mouthymandalorian @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #pedro pascal fanfiction #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mentalist

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chelsie-carson · 4 years

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DOWNTON Abbey’s Phyllis Logan wishes she had traded places with her Pirates Of The Caribbean hubby — so she could have played Johnny Depp’s pirate GRANNY.

The Scots actress, loved by millions as stern housekeeper Mrs Hughes from the ITV period drama, is married to Bristol-born actor Kevin McNally. He starred as sailor Joshamee Gibbs alongside Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow in all FIVE of the big-budget Pirate films.

But Kevin, 64, also popped up in Downton Abbey back in 2012 as miserable misogynist Horace Bryant. Phyllis said: “It would have been lovely to have done one of the Pirate movies, because my husband queered my pitch by being in Downton Abbey for a few episodes. “I said to him at the time, ‘I don’t come on your Pirate movies and step on your toes.’

“But that really would have been lovely. I would have done any part they gave me — even play Johnny Depp’s old granny.”

Paisley-born Phyllis is currently in lockdown in London with Kevin and their 24-year-old musician son David. She’s been keeping busy recording voiceovers for the current 5Select show The Highland Vet — although admits she’s been having a few technical difficulties.

The 64-year-old said: “I haven’t actually finished my narrations yet. I did the first two in a nice recording studio in London but now I’m doing them upstairs in the study. “So my husband has been my sound engineer because I’ve not been particularly competent in that department. “He sets up the mic, plugs it in and sends off the memory stick after it’s done.“But they sent me this microphone that actually rests on your top lip so I felt like I was commentating on the Grand National.“For quite a few episodes I was narrating the show like that, which sounded quite peculiar. So it will be interesting to hear how it sounds between the first two pre-lockdown episodes and the rest.”

The actress also recently provided the voice of Paddington’s housekeeper Mrs Bird — made famous by Julie Walters in the hit films — for a new animated series on Nick Jnr.She said: “I think the makers had Mrs Hughes in mind when they hired me, but Paddington is so sweet.“It was a great coup when they managed to get Ben Whishaw for the series, who, of course, was the voice of Paddington in the movies.”

Phyllis has also been helping to promote Dementia UK’s new campaign Lives on Hold — which aims to shine a spotlight on the lockdown which dementia carers face on an ongoing basis, not just during the coronavirus pandemic.She says: “When this lockdown ends people will go back to getting a pedicure or going to the pub, but for them it will be just more of the same.“With Dementia UK we’re trying to promote the Admiral Nurses who help take away that sense of isolation.“The more of them we get the better because there are around 700,000 people caring for people with dementia.”

Ironically, her character Mrs Hughes lived through the last pandemic when Spanish Flu killed an estimated 50million people in 1918. It also featured as a major plotline in the hit show.

And she believes that the no-nonsense housekeeper — who made her big screen debut last year in the movie version of Downton Abbey alongside Jim Carter as her head butler hubby Mr Carson — would take any lockdown in her stride. Phyllis laughed: “Mrs Hughes would be doing exactly what I’m not doing, which is going through her house like a blow torch and sorting everything out. “She would be throwing out rubbish and getting everything sorted. I wish I could have the same impetus.

“At the start of the lockdown I was clearing up the house, clearing bookcases and dusting like a mad thing, and now it’s like, ‘I can do it tomorrow’ — and then tomorrow never comes.”

Before her iconic role in the global hit, the Scot landed her first major showbiz break as Lady Jane Felsham in the BBC1 series Lovejoy, along with Ian McShane, which ran from 1986 until 1994.

But she fears she is part of a dwindling band of stars from the show, after the deaths of Dudley Sutton, who played Tinker, and Malcolm Tierney, who portrayed Charlie Gimbert.

She said: “I loved that show as we laughed like drains the whole time. Sadly, Dudley is no longer with us and Malcolm died several years ago. So it’s just me, Chris Jury and Ian McShane left.

“I met Ian a few years back at Venice Beach, California. He lives there and said, ‘Come and see Gwen’ his wife, so we visited him at his lovely penthouse apartment. It was just really nice to see him again. “And, of course, my husband worked with him on Pirates so I’d seen him then too. A few years go by and then we come across each other again.”

But as well as wanting to be in a swashbuckling pirate flick, Phyllis also longs to play it for laughs.

She said: “It would be lovely to do a farce. Something funny. A real comedy. The closest was a Kay Mellor thing a couple of years ago called Girlfriends on ITV, which had its humorous moments, so a bit more of that would be nice.

“I do like a good laugh but the parts I do are not such a good laugh. “So I’m going to have to sort that one out.”

But did she ever forgive hubby Kevin for trespassing on her Downton patch?

She fumed: “I was miffed when they didn’t tell me they were offering him a part. “But it was actually great fun. We got to travel to the set together and, as I said to him, it was like Bring Your Husband To Work Day.”

(x)

#phyllis logan #elsie hughes #lovejoy #kevin mcnally #pirates of the caribbean #phyllis friday

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wafafs · 3 years

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Conceive the misery of the slave who falls into the hands of such masters! A clergyman

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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07/23/2021 DAB Transcript

2 Chronicles 8:11-10:19, Romans 8:9-25, Psalms 18:16-36, Proverbs 19:26

Today is the 23rd day of July welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is a joy and a privilege and an honor to be here with you today around the Global Campfire as we come in and take the next step forward together. Right now, this part of the year, this part of the month, we find ourselves in the book of second Chronicles. We’ve been reading for the New Living Translation this week, which is what we’ll continue with today. Second Chronicles chapter 8 verse 11 through 10 verse 19.

Commentary:

Alright. So in the book of Romans we had been discussing the law, its role, its function, its revealing of our failures and how it showed us what sin was and we’ve basically been talking about sin since for the last couple of days. And we get a really good picture of what we would…what we would call the now and the not yet, which is something that's described about Paul's writings, where there is a now. And, so, Paul was very confessional about his own struggles. Now he does the things he doesn't want to do. And he does the things that he doesn’t want to do, and who…who can free him, and only Jesus can free us. But we have this kind of squatter, sin, who has no claim, but if we obey then we become a slave. And, so, we always have this choice. And, so, it's essentially Paul's conviction that sin will get us in the end, in this mortal body. In other words, we will die in this mortal body, but sin has no claim to our Spirit and day by day we are being transformed into the likeness of our Savior. In fact, it's the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead that's with in us. And if the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead, raised Christ from the dead than we can expect the same things, that we will experience resurrection as well. So, that's kind of a summary of what we are reading today, but let's just put it in Paul's own words. “Christ lives within you. So, even though your body will die because of sin the Spirit gives you life because you have been made right with God. The Spirit of God who raised Jesus from the dead lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead. He will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.” And, so, Paul’s saying this is a…a current state of reality for us, but we’re in the in between. This is a process, and this is where we are. Our bodies in a sinful world are going to wear down but our Spirits will be renewed every day. And ultimately the not yet will be the now and we will be restored to complete perfection as it was intended to be. Paul says it like this, I quote, “yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory He will reveal to us later for all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who is children really are, for we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time and we believers also grown even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We too to wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us.” Okay. So, that's the not yet. That is what we are hoping for, a time when sin is no more, and death has died, death has been swallowed up in victory. So, essentially if we had a boil down what we've been saying over the last few days it is that sin is a thing and sin, even though we are free from its claims to us is something that we can still choose to obey. We can still choose that kind of slavery if that's what we want. We’re just not perpetually in that state. It doesn't have a claim to us anymore. We died to it and we’re resurrected spiritually. We have right standing before God. We have been grafted into his family. We can call him Abba, Papa, Father, Daddy. We don't have to be afraid. I mean, I have a little boy, his name is Ezekiel. He’s gotten really popular around here this year for reading Daily Audio Bible Kids and he’s doing a great job, but he’s a little boy and he does things that are wrong from time to time, and he does things that he knows are wrong from time to time. And if he has to come and confess or acknowledge because something's been discovered that he has done, something that he knows is wrong he doesn't come to me in terror. He’s not afraid of who knows what I might do to him. He comes and he knows he's done wrong. So, he already knows it was wrong. He's already learned. He may have punishment. He may have consequences that have arisen out of his own actions, but he doesn't have to have terror. He's my son. I am his poppa, his abba, his daddy, his father. So, we may wrestle with the things that we struggle with that we’re trying to medicate or soothe or fill or whatever. We may choose things that ultimately separate us from God or are sinful but we don't have to live in terror of our Father. We need to run to our Father, confess our ultimate and utter dependence and kick the squatter out of our lives. This may be theological, even technical in some ways, but this is the good news. God wants you back and will never stop wanting that for everyone. And, so, let's carry that forward into this day and into this weekend.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, come. May we rest in the knowledge that You really do love us, that maybe we exasperate You at times because of our foolishness, but You really love us deeply, individually. You know our stories. You know who we are and where we've come from. And, so, we come to You. There is no other place to go. Even when we choose things that are destructive in our lives, help us Holy Spirit to rapidly recognize what's going on and rapidly return to our source of life itself. We pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family God bless you God bless the Hardin family and the reading of the scriptures. I am Lauralee. I am 16-year listen her. I am 16 years old…17 years old in Christ and I'm just calling. I came to work to this morning and got news that Adrian Lubetkin died last night. Father your word says it's appointed to man once to die and then face judgment. We have prayed for Adrian, that her own understanding about death would be changed in the last couple weeks, that you would perform heart surgery on her. And I have great faith because I saw you do it for my dad. I witnessed it, I saw it. So, I have great faith, that even though I didn't see it that you answered our prayers for Adrian according to your will because you don't delight in the destruction of the wicked and you want everyone to be saved. So, we asked and I trust you that I will see her and that you performed a miracle because you are God of miracles and You're good and You love your creation. I pray that You have made her one of Your very own and we’ll see her later in the name of Jesus. Thank you have a good day.

Hello DAB family this is the Disciple that He loves in Ohio. I've been listening for years now but have never called. I just desperately need prayer for my daughter. She's 15 and has been battling depression since she was 11 or 12. She has such a good heart and at times I just see glimpses of the person she's supposed to be but she's stealing and lying and is so far away and she just says all the time that she doesn't see a point of living and she wants to die. It just breaks my heart. I've prayed over this girl and loved her and asked angels to protect her her whole life and it just, I'm just worried. I'm afraid I'm going to lose her. She talks about dying and wanting to be dead all the time. I'm doing everything I can to get her the help but she just seems like she's getting worse instead of better. I just ask that everyone can come against the spiritual powers of wickedness and that are taking over her and that she would turn back to God and she would be healed over depression and her suicidal ideations. Thank you so much. I love you.

Hi this is Micah in Awe in Kansas City MO. I wanted to pray today for people today that are struggling with mobility issues. Shandra from Maryland you really touched me with your encouragement. And I tasted just briefly what it's like to be immobilized for…for about six months. I was on a knee scooter and kind of hurt to use my other foot to push the knee scooter but I still was able to. And I remember thinking of how…how much of a struggle it would be for someone in a wheelchair and how inaccessible certain places were like just different stores and I wanted to make a change but I just never did but I still want to and today I'm asking all of you out there whether your mobile or immobilized to pray for people that feel or are physically immobilized and not able to get around to where they want to go and feel like they're trapped. Let's pray. Lord today I ask for people all over the world not just DABbers, not just listeners, but everybody who struggles with immobilized…that are immobilized that you can help them feel free even when they are trapped, that you can help them with quality of life and joy when they can't do the things that they once were able to do. We ask for assistance with machinery and equipment that can help them, like if someone wants to get out on trails, some sort of like wheelchairs type bike or something. I don't know what it is but Lord you know what can be done. And I ask for changemakers, like…like make me a changemaker in the mobility area, that these people can have better quality of life and freedom Lord. But we know that our real freedom is in you Lord. Set them free internally and give them great joy. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Hey DAB family this is Sam in Seattle. I haven't gotten on to do a voice recording in a while but have kind of posted on the DAB friends and I’ve been keeping up there. I am coming to ask for prayer for people that are involved in family court. It's torturous. It's downright disgusting the things that are happening and how people with mental health conditions are allowed to use the court system to inflict wrongdoings upon the people that they have abused before or people that have been charged with domestic violence or assault on people, right? They are allowed to use the family court system to attack people's character, their jobs. So…and I…I've heard a lot of single parents on here before, you know, asking for prayers considering their kids and custody things. I even know there's somebody down South from me, I think you're in Kent, maybe you're in Tacoma, but a man that has been going through a lot of custody stuff too. So, I just…I want to ask for prayers for people that are involved in family court and the children…the children that are getting abused through this. Thank you.

Good morning Voice the bass player calling in from northern Nevada and I wanted to call and pray for Joe the Protector Who called to pray for someone else and…but mentioned that he started a new job recently and he's…he's having problems with other guys on the job not being believers. And, so, I pray for…I’m praying for Joe, that…that he could just keep a good heart, a good amount of positive thinking and thinking of the Lord and His goodness during his workday. But he also mentioned that he has three daughters or four daughters I think he said and none of them are walking with God. And I can relate to that because I have four children also and there's only one that I would consider to be walking with a Lord Jesus. And, so, I wanted to pray for all the people out there that have kids that are…that are not saved. You know, our children are the biggest blessing that we have from the Lord. A pastor friend of mine said having children is like having your heart outside of you walking around. And it's true. So, Lord Jesus I just pray for everyone who has children that need to be saved, that need to know you, that need to have their hearts changed by the Holy Spirit. I pray for all of them in Jesus’ name. And everyone have a great week. God bless.

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selfcareparker · 3 years

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hi bae <3 reading that last ask i’m realizing i have no grammar? lmao

glad university is funnnn, when you said linguistics i was like 🤨 but then i googled it and it does sound interesting lmao

the too much free time part though... :( its like you expected to be thrown in and like WOO BUSY and WOO purpose (purpose may be going too far lol) but i totally get what you’re saying. ESPECIALLY when you expect to be busier and you’re not it’s like :/ ok. (& girlllll it’s fine to complain, it’s how ur feeling)

and bc of covid you have eVEN LESS STUFF TO DO, which sucks. the social part may help? even just a little bit, but maybe having some socialization.. it could be somewhat uplifting? idk gsjshsj

where i live the vaccine is for 16 and up right now but for the younger kids (12-15) it hasn’t been ✨FDA approved✨ yet so my brother is still waiting for his 🤠

okay really quick, how does drivers license work there? here you learn to drive at 16 and you can like actually drive (sometimes even alone in the car) by 17... (also burneks?)

YAYYYY GIRLLL i remember you telling me about how you haven’t seen your family in England in such a long time 🥺🥺🥺 i really hope you get to see them soon!!!! and that covid eases up so you can see them frequently again 🥺🥺🤍

i’m gonna tattoo that to my forehead “not being friends with your parents is unhealthy” EXACTLY!! the people saying that stuff are usually not close to their parents so 👀

i’ve been really busy (unfortunately imo lol) with my dance recital coming up and this singing group (which i don’t like at all) and my final tests bc of school i’m EEK but it’s a good eek i think? maybe? idk lolll, i can’t wait for everything to be over though so i can CHILL. after school however i have a missions trip in north carolina? don’t quote me on that, but yeah 🥰 i’m really excited about it bc i’ll be without my family (like on my own :)) and it’s this whole thing and i’ll get to know people and i’m gonna buy a new bathing suit that makes me look gooooood cuz i’m tryna cop a boyfriend while i’m there HAHAHAH but besides that... more acting and singing camps probably? most likely a summer job.. i don’t have any plans reallyyy set in stone but ya know (ACTUAL i do have a few things planned. but those are things i don’t want to do. so i will be ignoring them <3)

that was a long ass paragraph- but PLEASE UR RESPONSE WAS FINEEE & i love you 💓💓💖💞💘💓💞💕 literally watch me buy a ticket to germany rn

- lovely anon (or catherine? i feel that lovely anon is iconic now tho so. kinda like how i call you aria in my head not your real name lol ALSO I PROMISE IM GONNA RESPOND TO THAT REALLY SOON, it’s just really busy rn) <3

what’s wrong with tumblr i just saw this a minute ago 🥲🥲🥲🥲 they don’t want to see us together ✋🏼 but fuck them 💘

Whaksk wait wdym by you have no grammar? 😭😭hejsjs

Honestly I’m so surprised that I’m enjoying linguistics but i think since i speak english and german i’ve just always been interested in language and esp english since it’s just my second language so i was forced to learn more about the language than just words and grammar, because it’s such a big part of me and also i didn’t always have a british accent so i kind of had to... develop a british accent, and it was natural but also kind of wasn’t??? Anyway why was this one sentence like 17 lines i’m sorry

YES OMG EXACTLY and obviously i’m missing out on the whole uni experience i mean I’m introverted anyway but i don’t mind going to a party every now and then? but i haven’t talked to a single person from my uni (except in class when we had to analyse a poem or something— okay technically some of my friends go to the same uni as me but they’re all studying other stuff)

But yeah I’ll definitely try to meet my friends more often 🥺 but we all have really different schedules rn so it’s really hard to find days where we both/all are free and not too tired and yeahssjsksj but i mean.... i can pay 50% of your ticket to germany? and then we can hang out? 🥰

I think everyone over 18 can get their vaccine from Monday on so I’ll try to call (okay, my mum will call sisjsh) and see if i can get an appointment. but i think everything will be super full because previously only people over... 50?or 60? or people with like illnesses could get it and now everyone over 18 can get it??? Like that’s a lot of people who can suddenly get the vaccine sksjjs but at the same time they’re getting quicker with it (i think today over 1 million people got the vaccine???? Like i know the US probably gets wayyy more people done so idk if that sounds like nothing to you but obviously Germany is much smaller so to me that sounds like a lot???) and also one of my father’s friend’s wife (djdkdj) works at a hospital or something? And she said she’ll ask if I can get it done there so yeah 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

Isksmsjjs it took me so long to figure out what burneks was, i googled it (very weird results?) and then i realised i made a typo.... yeah no idea what i was trying to say lol

So in Germany (as far as I’m aware) you can start at 17 and you can’t have your test before you’re 17 years and 6 months old (idk why) and then you’re not allowed to drive alone until you’re 18 and then you still have two years on probation(is that what it’s called?) and you’re not allowed to drink a single sip of alcohol before you’re 21 (and drive) (cause in germany you’re allowed to drink when you’re 14 (if your parents are with you and allow it), then when you’re 16 you can buy beer and wine, and when you’re 18 you can buy everything. But you’re not allowed to drink and drive (even if it’s just 0.01 promille) until you’re 21)

(Okay I just googled and I don’t think you say pro mille/per mille in english sksjsjs but like the percent (or something...) of alcohol you have in your blood (idk biology sorry) (not that you asked about drinking and driving anyway? 😭 but there you go lmaoo)

Also idk if that’s just a UK thing or you also have it in the US? But all of my relatives from England keep asking me how often I’m driving with my parents (for practice)... and in Germany that’s.... not allowed? Like in england you can get these L (Learner) plates that you can stick on the back of your car and then you can drive anytime with your parents, but in germany you can only drive with your driving instructor during a paid for and legally organised driving lesson so. Kksskaj

Yess, the good thing now is that i can go to england anytime? Because Uni is all online anyway so it’s not like i have to wait until the holidays to see my family, i really hope i’ll see them soon🥺 it was my nana’s bday today and my grandad’s a few weeks ago so i’m painting two pictures for them tomorrow and sending them as a (late) gift next week 😌 (i’ll do like an impressionist ✨field of flowers✨ (that sounds awful sksjsjsj for reference i’ll look something like this: (it’s not mine i just found it on the internet while i was looking for some inspiration

for my nana, and something with a waterfall for my grandad) (looking at it now i don’t even think that’s impressionism? Idfk i had art as my subject for my a levels (like one of my final exams) and i actually got an A 👀 but it was mainly architecture and i don’t even remember that so

Ahhh I hope it’s a good eek!! Sksjj hopefully you’ll be done with everything soon and i already know you’re gonna do really good in all of your tests😌 but still: good luck ❤️❤️❤️

Idk if it’s actually cool? But North Carolina sounds so cool to me (but honestly you could have said any state and i’d think it’s cool sksksskm) And girl I still think it’s so amazing that you just sing and dance and act and omg ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

(I’m imagining us in a montage (?) like they always have in films while we’re shopping to get you a hot bathing suit😌😌 and then they always come home with like 6 shopping bags in the movies—)

This is gonna sound so dumb because who tf wants to work? But I’ve always wanted a summer job 🥲 like nothing too exhausting obviously but i’ve never earned any money by myself? I haven’t had a single job in my life (not that I’m that old and like only one of my friends has worked in her life like we’re young sksjsj) and yeah i think it would be really cool to have a summer job and earn some money 😌 but during the summer holidays (they’re only 6 weeks in germany) we’d always go to england for at least two weeks and then we’d drive to bosnia to see my dad’s family for a few days and then to croatia and then to Bosnia again sksksksms so i never had time for a summer job (obviously i’m aware that it’s a fucking privilege that i’ve never had to work and that i get to go to multiple countries during the holidays but yeah)

WHY DO I TALK SO MUCH AUSSKKSSM

Like I said I’ll pay 50% of your ticket 😌 i’ll be here stuck at home anyway, just let me know when you’re coming so i can come pick you up😌 (this emoji djskksks— but i mean it fits so i’ll use it as often as i can 😌)

Lovely anon IS iconic 😌✨ but Catherine is more than okay too🥰 so just say whatever you prefer ❤️

(And omg you never have to apologise for responding to my long ass, full-of-mistakes responses late sksjs take your time (i mean i wouldn’t be mad if you just didn’t respond to some of them i talk too much anyway <3333)

#lovely anon #<3

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter eight

[ao3]

this is the latest i’ve ever posted a chapter...but technically it still counts. as long as i havent slept its still monday and you dont know whether i live in california or not

@tirednotflirting thank u for entertaining my insane little ideas and improving them this fic is truly nothing without you and @kaleidoscopeminds thank you for making my entire fucking week with that helpful little encouragement although i have to say its only monday so don’t get too gassed about that compliment.

i said on ao3 that half of this was written to a specific song so here i’m going to reveal the other half was written to just be good to green by professor green which honestly? fucking slaps i can’t be lying to you on this fine monday evening/tuesday morning

They have a few dates in the UK at the end of December, and Calum finds that his week or so away from his band has actually been a week too long. It almost made him forget the warmth that fizzles through his veins with the laughter that comes from Noel making contemptuous comments about Liam and Bonehead and Liam and Tony and Liam again, from Bonehead cheering loudly as Calum and the brothers groan and wince when they hear -and City have conceded yet another goal, this really is poor form- on the radio, from Liam slinging an arm around Calum in a bar in Glasgow and grinning madly at him, eyes lit up from the high of the show and the booze and the drugs, and shouting I fucking love you, Cal, over the sound of the shitty music. It makes Calum grin back, makes him press a sloppy kiss to Liam’s cheek, makes him giddy with the thoughts of how could I ever give this up? that rattle around what little of his mind the coke in his veins has left him.

It’s good, though, because the week-and-a-half apart is all the breathing space they needed, so once they’ve all recovered from their frankly alarming post-New-Year’s hangovers, the first few weeks of January, which are precious weeks off, are spent cooped up in a rehearsal space, or down the pub, or lying on the floor of Noel’s flat, stoned out of his mind, or wrapped up in a bunch of sky-blue scarves screaming abuse at the away stand at Maine Road.

Or, looking at houses in London.

Calum had mentioned it to Liam in a carefully-casual way, biting the inside of his cheek to contain a smile as Liam’s bright blue eyes had lit up and he’d said, a little too enthusiastically, eeyar, y’know Kentish Town’s a right nice area? Bet you could find a place there, too.

“Have you got a place, then?” Calum had asked, and Liam had shaken his head.

“Not yet,” he’d said. “Got some more viewings next week, though, if you fancy tagging along.” Calum had hummed, and nodded.

“Might do,” he’d said. “What’re you looking at?”

“Houses,” Liam had said immediately. “Big fuck-off houses. Mansions." Calum had snorted, and rolled his eyes. Typical.

“Give us the number of your estate agent,” he’d said. “I’ll ring and see if they’ve got anything for me.”

So Liam had called Noel and asked for the estate agent’s number, because he’d lost his address book again, and then Calum had rung the estate agent and told them vaguely what he was looking for - a place somewhere around Kentish Town, not too far from a pub if possible - asked to be put on the books, and been posted a few particulars. There had been a few places he’d been interested in, two houses and one flat, and with a little bit of wrangling he’d managed to get himself viewings on the same day that Liam had said he’d be going down, which is how they’ve ended up here.

They’ve seen both the houses that Calum had been considering, neither of which were quite right - one had a deceptively large garden, which Calum simply can’t be bothered to deal with, and the kitchen of the other one needed far too much work doing - and they’re in the second of Liam’s now, ambling around an airy, spacious living room. It’s a nice house, Calum thinks as he runs a finger over the mantelpiece above the fireplace, if a little big for his own taste. Liam, though, seems to be fucking loving it, craning his neck to look at the high ceilings and the sash windows, whatever the fuck those are. Calum had tuned out of whatever the fuck the estate agent’s droning on about approximately ten minutes ago, electing to simply wander around on the other side of the room, lost in his own thoughts.

It’s going to be fucking weird, he thinks, living in London. Manchester’s home. It’s where he’s been for almost six years, where his life had gone from bland and mundane to the fucking rollercoaster it is now, where he'd settled in and grown into himself. It’s going to be fucking weird being away from it, not going to Maine Road on a Saturday afternoon or a Tuesday evening, not heading down to the pub round the corner from his house for a pint with Liam, not hopping on a bus to cross town to Noel’s flat. Somehow it feels even stranger than when he’d first found out he’d be going on tour, leaving Manchester and sleeping in a different city every night, because he’d still always known where his home was. Sydney hadn’t ever really felt like home, not in the way Manchester does, and it makes Calum’s skin prickle with a tiny bit of fear to think that he’s choosing to uproot himself again, choosing to displace himself entirely this time, on a strange leap of faith chasing his best friends down to London.

Well, he thinks, glancing over at Liam again, and a warm wave of comfort washes over the prickling under his skin. At least he’ll have a little bit of home here with him.

Almost like he knows he’s being watched, Liam turns on his heel and catches Calum’s eye.

“What d’you think?” he says, like they’re a couple, or something. Calum shrugs. He likes it well enough, but it’s not his money, is it?

“‘S your money,” he says.

“Yeah, but what d’you think?” Calum shrugs again, casting his eyes back up at the huge bay windows opening out onto the street. He can imagine Liam here, sprawled out across a big sofa with ten empty bottles in front of him, TV blaring in the background, phone hanging off the hook. He’d probably have those NME covers of himself blown up and hung on the wall over there, maybe above the fireplace, might even get a vinyl of their album and stick that up on the wall behind the sofa- yeah, Calum can imagine Liam here.

“I like it,” he says. “Think it suits you.” Liam beams at him.

“Yeah?” he says, and turns back to the estate agent, who’s been hovering a little nervously in the doorway as Liam prodded around the brilliant white living room. “How much was this one, again?”

“Five hundred and forty six thousand,” the estate agent says politely, and Liam nods thoughtfully, like that isn’t the most enormous sum of money Calum’s ever heard of.

“D’you want to ring our accountant, maybe?” Calum says pointedly, and Liam shakes his head.

“Seeing Noel tomorrow,” he says, and Calum hums. Fair enough. Noel’ll probably know the state of Liam’s finances better than their accountant, anyway. "Right, let's have a look at your little bedsit, then, eh?" Calum rolls his eyes, and shoots Liam a playful glare.

"Get to fuck," he says, and Liam grins, following the estate agent out of the house.

The flat Calum had liked the look of is literally around the corner from the house Liam’s keen on, and there’s a pub halfway between the two of them that Liam points out and stops outside of, peering in and asking the estate agent how much a pint costs there.

“Two pound fifty?” he echoes in shock, when the estate agent informs him. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”

“You’re literally a fucking millionaire,” Calum reminds him, and Liam tears his gaze away from the window to glower at him.

“It’s the fucking principle,” he says, but he slouches away from the pub, albeit not without throwing it one final glare.

The flat’s on the ground floor of a huge house, one that looks like something Calum might expect Brett Anderson to live in, and he has half a mind to ask whether any other potential rival band members are living in the area before letting Liam loose in it, but decides he’s not going to play the role of Liam’s minder if he doesn’t have to. He, at least, isn’t bound to him by blood and double-helixes like some people, and he’s going to take full advantage of that.

The estate agent’s saying something about excellent schools in the area as they walk in, and Calum just stares at her back, thinking do I fucking look like I’m about to have kids? I don’t even know how to boil an egg or change a lightbulb - or anything beyond playing bass and taking drugs, really. Liam doesn’t hold back his snort, and Calum throws him a glare over his shoulder but can’t hide the amused smile playing at his lips, which just encourages Liam, makes him say eeyar, Cal, could tuck your little kids Mary and Jane into bed right here, couldn't you? when they get into the smaller bedroom.

The flat’s not too big, but it’s definitely not small, either - two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a toilet, and a kitchen, with a little patio at the back over the shared garden which, the estate agent assures him, is taken care of by the building managers. It’s exactly the right size, really - big enough that Calum feels like he’d have breathing space, even with the four noisy Mancunians that are inevitably going to be spreading themselves out across his new place like they’d been the ones to spend a few hundred thousand on it, but small enough that it wouldn’t feel empty, wouldn’t make him feel lonely if he were there on his own, and, more importantly, wouldn’t be a fucking ballache to clean.

He looks down at the particulars he’d had the foresight to bring with him - or rather, that his mum had shoved in his hand before he’d left the house - and scans it for the price again. A hundred and ten thousand, alright. That’s still fucking extortionate, but after hearing the price of the place Liam’s thinking of it feels like a bargain, and he’s already got his mortgage in place thanks to the chivvying from his parents, so he turns to the estate agent when they get to the kitchen and says: “I’d like to make an offer at the asking price.” She brightens, and nods.

“We have one more viewing on this property this afternoon, but I’ll get in touch with the seller as soon as I get back to the office and let him know,” she says, and Calum smiles politely at her, feeling incredibly out of his depth. Fucking hell, maybe he’s not ready for this. Maybe it’s too early to be living on his own; maybe he should have a transition period, move in with Liam, or something, rent something in Manchester.

But, like he can sense it, Liam turns to him, and nods decisively.

"This is your fucking place," he says, like it's obvious. "And I'll be right 'round the corner."

So it's decided.

Buying a flat, it turns out, though, is a right fucking hassle.

It involves lawyers, which Calum hadn’t expected, and it involves a surveyor, which he’d never even heard of, and it involves his parents insisting on coming down to London to look at the property he’s chosen, like they can’t trust him to make an adult decision.

(Well, Calum thinks, when Liam casually offers him a bump of coke in the pub the evening before they're due to go down to London. Maybe they’re right.)

His mum thinks the kitchen is too small for entertaining, and Calum doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the kitchen probably won’t be used for anything other than storing alcohol for a good few years, and his dad thinks the shower could do with replacing, which Calum just nods at - he’s not sure how he’d go about doing that; call a plumber? A builder? He’ll figure something out - but they both nod, satisfied, when Calum’s finished the full tour and turns back to them expectantly.

“How close did you say Liam would be, again?” his mum asks, too casually, and Calum can’t help but laugh as he leads them out.

There’s no way it’ll all be done before they have to head back out on tour again, so Calum has to sign a bunch of documents authorising his parents to be informed about what stage of the buying process he's in, but the lawyer Noel had found for him assures him that everything will be done by the end of January when they’re back for a few days for the NME awards and Calum’s birthday.

About a week and a half before the NME awards, Michael calls.

“A little birdy tells me you’re buying a place in London,” is how he greets Calum when Calum picks up the phone after hearing the Calum, it’s Michael yelled up at him from the kitchen, and Calum can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh.

“How the fuck d'you know that?” he says.

“I’ve got my sources,” Michael says, and Calum can hear that he’s grinning.

“You’re not spying on me, are you?” Calum says, a little suspiciously.

"'Course not," Michael says breezily. "Can't speak for Damon, though. Y'know, this whole Blur-Oasis thing is really stepping up a notch with the NME awards around the corner." Calum can’t help but smile himself, grinning down at his lap.

“Fuck off,” he says, and he feels comfortable saying it, and Michael laughs, and it all makes a strange warmth curl up and make a home for itself in the pit of his stomach.

“Dave’s looking to move to Kentish Town,” Michael explains. “Went to an estate agent, who said it was surprising to see three members of Oasis and one member of Blur there in the space of a week.”

“Those bastards,” Calum says evenly. “Thought we were paying for exclusive rights to their services. Pretty sure Liam would've made sure we had a verbal contract, or something; none of those Blur cunts allowed." Michael laughs again, and the sound goes straight to something deep in Calum, something that he reckons might be either his heart or soul but chooses to ignore because he can feel the threat of panic rising in his chest at the very thought of entertaining that idea.

“What made you decide to move down, then?” Michael says, and Calum shrugs, even though Michael can’t see him.

“Thought it was about time I moved out,” he says. “And- y’know. London’s sort of the place to be, if you’re in the music scene.” Michael hums.

“Y’know Kentish Town’s right around the corner from Camden?” he says, a little too nonchalantly. “‘S where that fish and chip shop I took you to was.” Calum swallows.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He hesitates, and then adds, in an equally too-casual voice: “You’ll have to show me around the area.”

“Might do,” Michael says lightly. “For a fee.”

“I’m going to be skint after buying this place,” Calum tells him. "It'd be an act of charity."

“Who said the fee was monetary?” Michael says, and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He clears his throat, and goes to say something, but can't. It doesn't matter, though, because Michael’s carrying on, a little hastily, like he’s picked up on Calum’s silence. “You could nick me a few of Noel’s songs. Damon’s really struggling for lyrics. Came into the rehearsal room yesterday after being stuck in traffic with a song that goes who maddest one on the M1?” He pauses, and then says: “It’s pretty good, though.” Calum can’t help but snort at that, heart beating a little too fast, even though Michael’s glossed over the awkward moment. Or maybe papered over it; Calum's never been great at telling the difference.

“I’m not looking to get murdered,” he says, and Michael sighs dramatically. “Plus, it’s not like Noel’s lyrics are any better.”

“True,” Michael muses. “What’s that one about, fucking, Mr Soft?” Calum huffs out a laugh at that, leaning back on his bed.

“Don’t remember a song about fucking Mr Soft,” he says, and Michael tuts, but Calum can hear the note of amusement in it.

“Should’ve been that instead,” Michael says flippantly. “I reckon it would’ve been an improvement.”

“Bit rich, coming from someone who’s got a song that half-consists of the word ‘parklife’,” Calum retorts, and Michael makes a noise of indignance.

“That’s a fucking brilliant tune,” he says, and Calum can hear the smile in his voice.

“Damon barely even sings on it,” Calum says.

“Shouldn’t do, either, for what we had to pay Phil Daniels,” Michael remarks. “Damon’s obsessed with getting these fucking features on. D’you know we’ve got Ken Livingstone lined up for our next album?” Calum can’t help but laugh out loud at that, bright and surprised.

“Ken Livingstone?” he echoes. “Like, Ken Livingstone?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, and he sounds exasperated, but fond. “I don’t know what the fuck is going through Damon’s head most of the time, but it’s easier to just give him a pat on the head and go aww, Damon, that's a lovely idea, what a clever boy you are than to try and understand him. Don’t have the energy for that. And I’m still making money, aren’t I?”

“If your house is anything to go by,” Calum says.

“Hey,” Michael says, mock-serious. “Let’s not talk about my house. Nice flat you’re buying.” Calum has to concede there, with a grin. He’s got a point.

“Does Damon call all the shots, then?” he asks, a little curious. He doesn’t actually know much about Blur’s dynamic - they’re nowhere near as transparent as Oasis are, and all he really knows is what he’s heard from Michael, which seems to be that they’re decent blokes and good friends, and what he’s picked up from the Oasis camp, which seems to be that they’re all Tories and that the jury’s still out on whether they’re the antichrist or whether that’s Liam.

“What’s this, trying to infiltrate us?” Michael asks, but Calum can hear that he’s smiling. “He tries, but Graham won’t let him. We sort of step back and let their do their thing most of the time. Alex gets involved, sometimes, but I think Graham and Damon like the fighting.” Calum hums, not really sure what to say to that, besides sounds like Noel and Liam.

“You’d like Damon, I think,” Michael says, after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Well, y’know. If your insane bandmates would let you.”

“Yeah, well.” Calum shrugs, a little awkwardly, and casts his eyes back down at his lap, picking at his pyjama bottoms. Michael doesn’t say anything to that for a minute, just breathes down the phone line and lets the two of them simmer in a slightly-uncomfortable silence, and then he sighs.

“I should go,” he says. Don’t, Calum wants to say, but he doesn’t have a good enough reason to keep Michael on the line. Michael pauses, like maybe he’d been waiting for Calum to ask him not to go, and then sighs again. “Alright, well. I’ll see you at the NME awards, I guess.” Calum’s stomach twists. Shit. He’d forgotten Blur were going to be there.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Don’t think you’ll be able to miss us, the number of awards we’ve been nominated for.” Michael laughs at that, and it’s soft, but it’s a little wistful. Maybe Calum should have asked him to stay. Maybe he didn’t need a good enough reason. Maybe just wanting him to would have been reason enough. It’s too late now, though, because Michael’s saying I don’t think anyone within a six mile radius of Liam can miss him, and Calum huffs out another laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ll see you then,” he says, and then hesitates, and adds: “I mean-”

“I know,” Michael says quickly, and Calum’s grateful for it. “I promise not to even look in your direction all night.” Calum snorts.

“What’re you going to do when we’re up on stage collecting all the awards we’ve beaten you to?"

“Go to the loo,” Michael says immediately, and this time, the smile does reach Calum’s eyes.

“You’ll be up and down like a fucking yo-yo,” Calum says.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, given the number of awards we’re up for,” Michael says, and it’s smooth and cocky, confident without being arrogant, and it sends something electric charging through Calum, knocking the breath out of his lungs and making his vision blur a little around the edges for a moment. What the fuck is that?

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Calum manages to get out, proud of and relieved at how light and even his voice sounds.

“Guess we will.” Michael’s voice is light and amused, but that searing edge of confidence is still there, and Calum has to swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll see you there.”

“You will.” He hears Michael breathing for a moment longer, and then there’s a click, and he’s gone, leaving Calum sitting in bed, staring at the wall opposite him, mind finally kicking into gear and helpfully offering him an explanation for the way his heart’s racing in his chest and his breath coming out a little shorter and shallower than before.

Arousal.

-------

They have a show in Hollywood on the twenty-second, which means Noel ramps up rehearsals for the week before they go, probably mostly because he just loves to wield power over them all. Calum doesn’t really mind, though, enjoys the way that Liam and Noel snipe at each other, the way Bonehead grumbles about needing to re-tune his guitar again because he can’t be bothered to restring it, the way that they all roll their eyes at Tony when he fucks up the rhythm for Supersonic again in the first few bars.

Well, actually, he’s not enjoying that so much.

See, he knows Tony’s not the best drummer, the same way he knows that Noel’s far from the best guitarist and he’s not the best bassist. They’re all getting there, though - Calum can hear how much better he sounds than even half a year ago - except for Tony. Tony’s not got any better, doesn’t even seem to care enough to try, content to get by with what he’s got away with doing so far and then go down to the pub for a pint or two and ring his missus when he gets back to the hotel, but it’s not good enough anymore. It might have worked when they were fighting tooth and nail to get on a bill, but now, when they’re selling out bigger and bigger venues, when they’re on a six-album contract and they’re in the running to be the biggest fucking band in Britain, it’s not enough.

The tension’s been mounting for a while, the exasperated looks Noel throws in Tony’s direction turning to scornful, to ugly, twisted lips and dark, furrowed brows, but so far, no one’s said anything. Liam might snipe at him a little more, might seek him out to get out his pent-up anger when Noel’s tired of fighting with him, and Noel might snap at him faster, might say Jesus, you’re fucking incompetent with absolutely no shred of fond exasperation, but no one’s said anything. It’s only a matter of time, though, Calum thinks, as he watches Tony falter on the beat again and Noel turn around, fingers stilling on the strings, shoot him a furious look and say d’you feel up to doing your fucking job today, or what? Should I do it myself? They’re going to have to address it at some point.

Not now, though. Now, they’re flying to America again, and Calum’s trying to get Liam to go to sleep on the flight instead of demanding peanuts from the poor air hostesses every two minutes, and Noel’s turning around in his seat and saying stop kicking me, you dick to Bonehead, who just shrugs and kicks harder, and Tony’s pretending to nap across the aisle. Everything’s in its strange, fragile balance, and none of them want to be the first to upset it.

The show in Hollywood goes well enough - which is measured by the fact that Noel only had ten minutes of criticisms to hand out, rather than the usual twenty - and then they’re flying back to the UK, drugged-up and exhausted from jumping back and forth across timezones, being ushered into a hotel in London and told you’ve got a day off, and the NME awards in the evening. That’s a human evening, Bonehead, not fucking midnight. Calum’s sharing with Liam that day - or is it night, he can’t fucking tell anymore - and they just fall right into bed and sleep for sixteen hours, only waking up at five in the afternoon when someone hammers on their door and shouts Noel says to wake you up, and to tell you that you’re lazy cunts. Liam rolls over, and blinks blearily at Calum.

“Time’s it?” he mumbles, and Calum squints at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock balanced precariously on the edge of his bedside table.

“Five,” he says. Liam groans, and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Fucking Noel,” he says. “Don’t even have to leave for another hour. Prick just wants to torture me.”

“Probably,” Calum agrees, because that sounds like Noel. Liam groans again, rubs at his eyes, and then pushes himself up on his elbows, looking back over at Calum.

“Did we raid the minibar last night?” he asks, and Calum thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. Liam smiles, satisfied, and swings his legs out of bed, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet.

“Perfect,” he says, heading straight for the little fridge under the desk. “Noel can pay for these, then.” Calum just rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning when Liam winks at him over his shoulder and tosses him a little bottle of vodka.

They drink the entire minibar between them, and by the time they’re heading out for the car that’s waiting to pick them up, Calum’s laughing at everything Liam’s saying, skin pleasantly warm and tingling, which is just encouraging Liam to say stupider and stupider things and gesticulate more and more wildly. Usually, Noel would nip that right in the bud, but he’s a little pink-cheeked himself, just laughs along at Liam’s antics and the weird little stories he tells on the journey to the venue.

It’s fucking packed when they get there, and Calum’s almost blinded when a few cameras go off in his face, and he barely has time to think brilliant, bet I look fucking great in those before someone’s tugging on his sleeve and pulling him up the steps and inside. He’s still blinking away the blue-green-purple behind his eyes as he stumbles into the room, gets ushered to a table with the rest of them, and twists around in his chair, trying to drink in the rest of the room.

It’s fucking packed, and it’s full of people Calum recognises from festivals and from magazines and newspapers - Elastica, Radiohead, Suede, Pulp - but he’s only really looking for one band. He’s trying to do it as subtly as possible, though, knows he doesn’t have a lot of time to look before Noel notices and gets shirty about it, but can’t find them anywhere in the crowd of people as people get up and sit down and lean around their table to talk to someone at another table. He turns back to his own band, tuning into the conversation that’s going on about whether or not they’d actually been nominated for Best Single; he'll just look for Michael the next time the Gallaghers have gone to take whatever it is they're on tonight.

There’s drink on the table, and there’s drugs in Noel and Liam’s pockets, and by the time the ceremony’s begun they’re all looking very fucking merry and pleased with themselves. The brothers actually manage to behave themselves, though, sitting back quietly as the first award - Best LP - is introduced.

Of fucking course, it’s Blur.

They watch as Blur traipse to the stage to a round of polite applause, looking very relaxed and pleased with themselves, coming from somewhere against the wall to the far left of the Oasis table, and Calum feels his heart start to speed up as he spots Michael at the back of the group, saying something to Graham with a smile on his face that makes Graham laugh too as they follow in Damon, Dave and Alex’s wake.

Damon leans into the microphone, saying something about thank you to the fans, blah blah blah, but Calum’s just staring at Michael, willing him to catch his eye. Michael’s scanning the crowd in a way that Calum could mistake for idle if he didn’t see the slight narrowing of his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s looking at the back, then at the left, then somewhere around the middle, and then finally his eyes fall on Calum’s table, and his lips curve upwards ever-so-slightly.

And then, like Noel and Liam aren’t sat right fucking there, he winks.

Calum knows what he’s saying. First award goes to me, eh? Fucking cocky little shit, he thinks, through the haze of alcohol, but it makes his next intake of breath a little sharper all the same.

“Pricks,” Liam says derisively, reaching for another beer. Calum hums his agreement, but his eyes don’t leave Michael, who’s now trying to suppress a fully-fledged smile. Calum shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and reaches for his own beer, just for something to put between himself and Michael.

Damon finishes his speech, thank you to their management, blah blah blah, and then they’re heading back off the stage, and Michael breaks his eye contact with Calum easily, like it’s nothing, tossing another nonchalant comment that Calum can’t make out in Damon’s direction. It sort of stings, seeing how easily Michael can act like it's nothing, but it’s also an odd relief, because Calum’s all too aware of the two fuckers he’s sat between.

He’s downed another beer by the time the next award’s being announced - Best Single - and it looks like they have indeed been nominated for it, because they win it.

“Fucking get in,” Liam crows, getting to his feet, and Noel doesn’t even have it in him to do anything but cuff him upside the head fondly as they head for the stage.

“None of you cunts deserve this,” he says, as they jog up the steps. “Least of all you.” He directs the last part at Tony, but unlike the first half of his sentence, it’s got an edge of venom to it, a bit of Noel’s cruel streak leaking through. Calum shoots Noel a sharp look as they head for the podium, because tonight is not the fucking night, and shakes his head.

“Don’t be a cunt,” he says, and Noel just shrugs, turning away from him to accept their award and then stepping over to lean into the microphone. Liam’s there too, quick as a fucking flash, not willing to let Noel have any more than about forty percent of the limelight, and Calum just rolls his eyes and steps back, deciding to just let the fucking shitshow happen. He’s got other things to think about, anyway - Blur had come from his left when he’d been sat down, so they should be sat somewhere on what’s now his right, and he frowns as he scans the room, squinting into the bright stage lights as he tries to make out the all-too familiar shape of Michael sat at a table.

He actually spots Damon before he spots Michael, and he feels an odd stab of excited anticipation make his heart lurch as his eyes slide around the table, like he’s a fucking fifteen year old with a crush again. There’s Graham, Dave, some woman he doesn’t know, Alex-

Luke.

Fucking hell.

He’d completely forgotten, somehow, that Luke - and Ashton, who’s sat right next to him - were going to be here. It makes his stomach tighten, seeing the two of them again in this unfamiliar context, makes him blink like they’re going to fucking disappear if he tries hard enough. Luke’s hair is long, now, curly like it always used to be after they’d been swimming at Bondi Beach, and he’s broad as fuck, fills out the shirt he’s wearing in a way that would probably make Calum’s mouth water if it were anyone other than Luke. Ashton looks older, too, has his sleeves rolled up far enough to expose very muscled arms, hair dyed black and one slightly-curled strand falling into his eyes. He’s got his hands in front of him, clasped together and elbows on the table, and Luke’s leaning back in his seat, one arm around the back of Ashton’s chair, leaning into him a little. They look the same, and they look so different.

Calum doesn’t even realise Liam and Noel are done with their antics until Bonehead shoves at him with his shoulder and inclines his head with a frown, signalling get off the fucking stage, you prat. It only just occurs to his alcohol-addled mind to flick a quick glance over at Michael, who’s grinning up at him easily, even looking a little proud, and it makes Calum’s already-leaden stomach flip somehow, in a way that he thinks might be pleasant but isn’t entirely sure about.

He follows the rest of his band off the stage in a daze, almost trips over his own feet at least four times on his way back to the table, drawing enough attention to himself that Liam throws him a frown as they sit down, concern for Calum cutting through all the drink and drugs in his veins.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, managing to make it sound hostile somehow. Calum blinks at him.

He can say it, can’t he? It’s not like they’ve got any shit with Luke and Ashton. Well, Noel probably will on principle, but anyone who isn’t the most vindictive person on the planet shouldn’t have.

“I, uh,” he says, and clears his throat as he realises Noel’s tuned into the conversation too, even though he’s still facing the stage, sitting far too still as he listens to what Calum has to say. “I saw the Blur table. Michael’s brought two of my best mates from Sydney.”

“Oh,” Liam says, sounding a little disappointed, like he’d been expecting something juicier than that. “D’you wanna go and say hi?” That gets Noel to turn around, to shoot Liam a furious glare.

“Are you insane?” he demands.

“What?” Liam says defensively. “They’re his mates.”

“They’re with Michael.”

“So? They’re still Calum’s mates.”

“They’re with Blur.” Liam scoffs.

“Don’t be so fucking unreasonable,” he says, raising his voice a little to be heard over the applause as the next award is announced - Calum has no idea what it is, but Blur are receiving it again. Noel laughs incredulously, and his eyes are narrowed and cold, and Calum thinks for fuck’s sake, not again.

“I’m being fucking unreasonable?” Noel says.

“Yeah, you fucking are,” Liam says stubbornly. “What the fuck have they done? They’re not in Blur, are they?”

“They’re-” Noel cuts himself off, throwing his hands up in the air, like the fact that Liam’s not on his side on this is beyond him. Liam throws him one last look, and then turns back to Calum.

“D’you want to say hi?” he asks again, and Calum hesitates. He’s not really sure.

“Jesus, why don’t you ask him if he wants to fuck Mike again too, while he’s at it?” Noel says scornfully, which makes Liam’s eyes flash with anger for a moment, and he rounds on Noel again.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Just fucking leave it.”

“Leave it?” Noel echoes. “Leave-”

“Stop it," Liam says, something uncharacteristically firm and serious to his tone. "You’re making yourself too obvious.” That makes Noel’s mouth snap shut, but his jaw muscles continue to work furiously as he glowers at Liam, something so irate in his expression that Calum can’t even read it. He doesn’t want to, anyway, not when he sees the defiant set of Liam’s jaw and realises they’re having one of those brotherly we know something you don’t know moments, sees the silent conversation occurring between the two of them and just waits it out, waits for one of them to snap. It’s Noel this time, folding his arms and sitting back in his chair, still glaring at Liam, but Liam seems to know what he means by that, because he throws Noel one final look that looks almost like those I’m disappointed in you looks that Noel so often sends Liam, and turns back to Calum again.

“Let’s go over,” he says.

“Not now,” Noel says sternly. Nothing to do with Blur, though; this is Noel’s business voice. “We’re in the middle of a fucking awards ceremony.”

“So?” Liam says, with a carefree shrug.

“No.” Liam looks like he wants to argue for a moment, but Noel holds his gaze, and eventually Liam sighs and slumps back in his seat.

“Fine,” he says sullenly, but before Noel has time to say something cutting in response, everyone around them is jumping to their feet and cheering.

“What?” Calum says to Bonehead, who throws him a funny look.

“Best new band,” he says, and Calum’s heart clenches, but in a way that he definitely likes.

Fucking hell, he thinks, as he gets to his feet and grins broadly at Noel, who grins back, the previous conversation completely forgotten. Well, that makes him two-for-two with Michael, doesn't it?

-------

Oasis end up winning three awards, eclipsed only by Blur, who take home five. Liam claims that they win four, though, because Alan wins the Godlike Genius award, and he’s basically Oasis, innit? Oh, fuck off, Noel, you’re not Oasis. If anything, right, I’m Oasis, ‘cause- and then Calum tunes out.

Someone mentions something about an afterparty, because of course they do, and everyone agrees enthusiastically. They’re all getting to their feet when Liam turns to Calum with a look of surprise on his face, like he’s just remembered something.

“Your mates,” he says, and Calum swallows. His mates.

“Yeah,” he says. “Uh- yeah. I might-” he cuts himself off, but Liam gets it, and nods.

“Want me to come over with you?” he says, and Calum hesitates. No, because I’m not sure I can handle the guilt of being around you and Michael at the same time is thrown up at him by his mind, but his heart says yes, please. I’m scared. I need you there.

“Can you refrain from calling them all cunts for five minutes?” Calum says, because he can’t say please, and Liam grins, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Guess we’ll find out,” he says cheerily, and skirts around the edge of the table, making a beeline for the table Blur are gathered around on the other side of the room, lingering and laughing at something Michael’s saying with big, grand hand gestures. He can feel Noel’s eyes on the two of them as he jogs to catch up with Liam, who strides like a fucking maniac despite the fact Calum’s got a good three or four inches on him, but he doesn’t say or do anything. That’s almost more dangerous, though, Calum thinks, because Noel never forgets, just files the information away to act upon later. He doesn’t have time to worry about it, though, because the speed with which Liam’s powering towards the table means they’re there before Calum’s really realised they’ve crossed the room, the band and the other assorted people that Calum doesn’t know blinking at them curiously. Well, blinking at Liam curiously, Calum thinks, stomach bottoming out. They all know about him and Michael talking again, don’t they? Do they know that Liam doesn’t know? Do Calum’s fucking rivals know how Calum’s betraying his own best friend?

“Who’re you?” Liam says to Luke and Ashton, ever the fucking diplomat. “Cal says you’re his mates from Sydney.” The two of them blink at Liam, clearly not entirely sure what to make of him or the situation, until Ashton clears his throat.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and Calum’s next exhale comes out a little shaky at the sound of his voice. It’s so fucking familiar, has the same intonation and confidence it’s always had, and the same thick Australian accent that both he and Michael have lost along the way.

“I’m Liam,” Liam says, completely oblivious to the entire group of people staring at him like he’s absolutely insane. Well, Calum supposes, he must be used to that. Pretty much everyone stares at Liam like he’s insane, most of the time.

“Oh,” Ashton says, and shoots Michael a look, like he’s not sure what to do. “I mean. We know.” He hesitates, and then adds: “We really like your album.” Liam grins.

“‘Course you do,” he says breezily. “It’s fucking brilliant.”

“We’ll see you at the party, Mike, yeah?” Damon says, and throws Michael a pointed look. Michael just shrugs, and Damon looks at the rest of the table, who all kick themselves into gear and start slowly ambling away from the table as they shrug their coats on, mumbling to each other too quietly for Calum to hear. Damon’s the last to go, tossing Liam an easy smile, a glint in his eyes.

“Nice to see you again,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Liam says, not even bothering to look away from Ashton, and Damon’s lips just twitch in an amused smile as he catches Michael’s eye, who rolls his eyes at him and shoos him away. He goes, though, turns on his heel and jogs to catch up with Graham, who’s been loitering a few tables away, seemingly waiting for him, and Liam leans forwards, rests his elbows on the vacant seat in front of him and puts his chin in his hands.

“Who’re you, then?” he asks again.

“I’m Ashton,” Ashton says.

“I’m Luke,” Luke says, and his voice is deeper than Calum remembers.

“Right,” Liam says, and then glances at Michael. “Are you gonna fuck off, or what?”

“Me?” Michael says. “No, I’m alright.” Liam narrows his eyes at him, and Calum watches a flash of amusement cross Michael’s face before he schools his features into something convincingly solemn again.

“Hey, Cal,” Ashton says, before Liam has the chance to tell Michael to get to fuck, or whatever, and Calum tears his gaze away from Michael to meet Ashton’s eyes.

“Hi,” Calum says, throat suddenly dry. He clears his throat, and tries again. “How’re you?” Ashton blinks at him.

“Good,” he says, “we’re good, yeah.” He glances at Luke, as if to anchor himself, and it makes Calum’s heart ache, makes memories of Luke doing the same to Ashton five, six, seven years ago bubble up in his mind.

“Michael says you’re a teacher now,” Calum says, just for something to say, wanting to cry at the awkwardness of the atmosphere. It seems to be the right thing to say, though, because it makes Ashton’s lips hitch up in a smile, something warm reaching his eyes.

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Yeah, I teach RE.” Calum smiles at that, and he can’t help but glance over at Michael, thinking about their conversation a few weeks ago. Michael’s looking at him too, and their eyes lock for a split second, held together by a private memory, before Calum breaks it to look over at Ashton again.

“Could’ve guessed that,” he says, and Ashton’s smile turns into a grin, something like relief tingeing it, like he hadn’t been quite sure how Calum was going to react to him. It emboldens Calum to add: “You and your fucking philosophy.”

“Hey,” Ashton protests, but he’s still smiling. “Not all of us are cut out to be rockstars.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Michael says, and Calum remembers.

“Oh, hey, d’you still play drums?” he asks, and Ashton wrinkles his nose.

“‘Course he does,” Michael says.

“Well, y’know-” Ashton starts cagily, but Michael interrupts him with a scoff.

“Oh, shut up,” he says in exasperation, rolling his eyes, but it’s utterly fond. “He’s the fucking man of the scene in Sydney.”

“You’re in a band?” Trust Liam to be suddenly interested.

“I- well, I’m in a few-”

“You’re in a few?” Liam frowns, and pauses, before asking: “Are you really fucking good, or really fucking shite?”

“Really fucking good,” Michael puts in, and Liam shoots him a glare.

“Did I ask you?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, though, just rounds on Luke, and asks, blunt as fucking anything: “D’you talk?” Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks so much like that seventeen-year-old that Calum had left behind that it makes Calum’s head spin for a moment.

“Don’t be a cunt,” Calum tells Liam sharply, who turns enough to throw Calum a look over his shoulder.

“Just asking a fucking question,” he says, but it’s grumpy, which means he’s going to relent.

“Michael says you’re a pilot,” Calum says, to try and ease the tension, and Luke’s eyes flit to him.

“Yeah,” he says.

“That’s pretty cool,” Calum says, and Luke hesitates, and then smiles.

“Coming from you,” he says, and Calum grins back.

“International rockstar’s a pretty good job,” he agrees, and Luke’s smile turns into a full-blown grin too.

“Is that what you write down on visas?” he says, and Calum snorts.

“I don’t, but this prick does,” he says, nodding at Liam, who just smiles inanely.

“Not gonna lie to the authorities, am I?” he says, and Luke, Ashton and Michael all laugh, and it’s real. It’s not forced, it’s not polite, it’s real and amused and warm, and Calum thinks he might have ascended to another fucking plane of existence, seeing his two best friends from Sydney, his best friend now, and his- well, whatever the fuck Michael is, all getting on, if only for a moment.

It hurts, though, because he thinks this is what it could be. This is what I could have, if Noel and Liam weren’t such fucking cunts.

“Right, are you done?” Liam says, straightening up again. “We’ve got drugs to take.” Michael rolls his eyes, and Luke and Ashton look a little startled, and Calum thinks oh, fucking hell, but he sighs, and steps back.

“We’re in the UK ‘til Saturday,” Ashton says. “We, uh. It’d be nice to see you. If you have time?” Calum blinks at him. Fucking hell, he doesn’t know his own schedule; he just jumps when Noel tells him to.

“I, uh,” he says, but Liam speaks for him.

“Could do Friday,” he says. “If you can come to Manchester.” Ashton glances at Luke, who shrugs.

“I mean- yeah, sure,” he says, and Liam nods, satisfied.

“Seven at the Vic on Burnage Road,” he says.

“Is this an open invitation?” Michael asks mildly, and Liam glares at him.

“Not to you,” he snaps, and puts his hands in his pockets. “Right, well. Nice to meet you. Me and Calum’ve got toilet lids to be getting to know. See you Friday.” Calum just blinks, not entirely sure what’s just happened, watching as Liam slopes away.

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “Sorry about him.”

“He’s…” Luke trails off, and Calum can’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Yeah, he is,” he says, but he can’t hide the fondness and pride in his voice. “I- sorry, I really should- Noel’s-”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Ashton says. “We’ll see you on Friday.” Luke’s still watching Liam, who’s now hovering in the door and throwing Calum an impatient glance, apprehension etched on his features.

“Will he be there?” he asks.

“I- uh. Seems like it.” Which is fucking insane.

“Right.” Luke doesn’t sound too happy about that, but Ashton throws him a stern look, and he just sighs and then smiles at Calum. “See you on Friday, then.”

“See you,” Calum echoes, and then throws Michael a glance. “I’ll-”

“Yeah,” Michael says quickly, so Calum won’t have to say it. “Don’t worry. I know.” He smiles, and he means it, and Calum wants to cry. He doesn’t deserve Michael.

He turns on his heel and jogs to the door, still trying to process what the fuck’s just happened. It must be written all over his face, because Liam frowns at him when he gets to the door, and then squares himself, looking a little hostile.

“What?” Liam says defensively,. “They’re your mates, aren’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“And they’re not in Blur.” Calum hesitates.

“You don’t have to,” he says, and Liam shrugs.

“Yeah, I know,” he says easily, pushing open the door to the venue. There are no photographers outside, now, just a few wannabe groupies hanging around and a couple of cars still waiting to ferry people from the venue to their hotels or the afterparty. It’s one of those that Liam opens the door to, clambers into without holding the door open, meaning it almost shuts on Calum as he follows, just about managing to get his leg in without the door slamming on it. “But they were important to you, weren’t they?”

“Well- I mean, yeah, but-”

“That’s that, then.” He blinks steadfastly out of the window as Calum stares at him for a moment, drunk brain trying to understand what’s going on, what Liam's doing for him, and why he's doing it.

God, he thinks, as the familiar guilt settles deep in his veins again. He doesn’t deserve Michael, and he doesn’t deserve Liam, and neither of them deserve what Calum's doing to them.

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#malum #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos slash #i have to dip because i have unfortunately got important business to attend to hpefully before 3am #but i will be back tomrorow #im just all over the place at the moment #so many thigns are happening in my life but not to me #very stressful times all round #LUCKILY i have noels EXCELLENT music to get me through these trying times #and i also have sams burgeoning love for britpop #which gets me through pretty much everything #love u sam

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totalvibration · 4 years

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55 Albums Released in 2019 That Splash Oat Milk In My Earl Grey

This year felt like slo-mo, a holding pattern and a fast-forward button stumbling towards unknown ends. I spent the early months in paternal bliss and sleep deprivation, caring for my newborn daughter, then spent the rest of the year running to slow down… to make the most of small moments with my family, to juggle that thing every lifestyle magazine calls the work-life balance, to know when I need help and being willing to ask for it, to making priorities with loved ones.

Also, after years of oolongs and a staunch no-milk-in-tea-except-milk-teas policy, I started putting honey and oat milk in my Earl Grey, an old tea standby that's felt warmly familiar in colder months. Similarly, I dug my heels into familiar-to-me gnarly metal, deep drone and abrasive punk this year, uninterested in poptimist takes on indie-rock. In an effort to maximize more time with new family and less with bulls***, I leaned hard into my Viking's Choice column at NPR Music (which went weekly!) to shout out underground debauchery and beauty to anyone who would listen.

Below are 55 albums (and a few reissues and archival releases) that hit me in different ways over 2019. No ranking, just links out to Bandcamp where available. They come paired with emoji because that's a thing I do on Twitter.

See also:

Viking's Choice: The Year In The Loud And The Weird (my annual year-end episode of All Songs Considered)

20 Punk Albums Released In 2019 That Flip Eggs, Pick Up Chains

20 Metal Albums Released In 2019 That Bluurgh Over Sick Riffs

A nine-hour playlist of 2019 jamz

But first, some stray thoughts:

Ta-Nehisi Coates' still-ongoing Captain America run has been extremely rewarding. A beloved superhero comes to terms with the line between patriotism and nationalism as Coates underlines that American progress often comes from reluctance.

Daniel Warren Johnson's Murder Falcon spoke to me not only as a metalhead who loves cartoonishly kick-ass violence, but also as a dude with a tender heart… that final issue still gets me in the feels.

Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colours is secretly a trilogy of movies about the loving, painstaking process of creation, specifically music. I'd never seen any of them until paternity leave (and a sleeping baby) gave me hours to binge long-neglected to-watch lists. In 1993's Blue, in particular, a composition mirrors the grief of Juliette Binoche in an exquisite performance.

Tiny Desk concerts I produced for NPR Music in 2019: American Football (with a children’s choir!), Thou, Erin Rae, Carly Rae Jepsen (sort of), Jimmy Eat World and Mount Eerie (videos coming in 2020).

There’s a gallery at Glenstone, a truly stunning museum experience, that’s literally just a room full of books, a sculpted wooden bench and a large window that looks out on the rolling hills of Maryland. I could spend hours there.

The second season of KCRW's Lost Notes, hosted by Jessica Hopper, built episodes like albums, sequenced with eureka moments throughout. See: the story of a teenage Farsi New Wave sibling duo and a difficult and necessary reassessment of John Fahey through the women in his life.

High Spirits (May 7, Atlas Brew Works) is such a force for good. Heavy metal singalongs about love, friendship and positivity. I feel like this band needs to tour with Sheer Mag to be fully appreciated by an unknowing audience.

Has your baseball team ever won the pennant with the sleeping baby on your chest? So many silent screams of joy in our household as the Nats not only won the National League, but the whole dang World Series. I haven't lived in a city/state with a baseball team that's gone to the World Series since 1995.

Circuit Des Yeux's Haley Fohr (Dec. 5, Hirshhorn) tuned her voice to feedback hum and the rest that followed felt like a wordless eulogy for 2019. I felt renewed by it.

I can't think of a prettier song released in 2019 than "This Time Around" by Jessica Pratt. It is saudade whispered into the wind.

This was my Linda Ronstadt year. Heart Like a Wheel, Canciones de mi Padre, her records with the Stone Poneys — the Queen of LA, with a voice that both bursts out of and melts into dusk, softened the edges of long days with an equally adventurous and easygoing spirit.

🚙 Petrol Girls, Cut & Stitch: In 2019, it was crucial — life-affirming and -saving, even — to make your own noise. "This is the sound / It moves in our bodies / It passes through time / Brings what came before us," Petrol Girls' Ren Aldridge screamed at the top of a turbulent punk record filled with compassion. That boundless philosophy resonated with me this year — to listen and absorb more deeply, to excavate the traces of memory in music.

👽 Blood Incantation, Hidden History of the Human Race: Simultaneously exists in the gaping maw of death-metal tradition and the galaxy brain of its future.

💾 Kali Malone, The Sacrificial Code: Seeks the solemnity of the drone in the pipe organ, but leans into the vulnerability pushed through the air.

🕹️ billy woods & Kenny Segal, Hiding Places: An album-length self-excavation that crawls through moldy memories in a brutal poetry that is at times darkly funny but mostly wrestles with personal and societal truths that'll leave you touched, shook.

📟 Holly Herndon, PROTO: One of our deepest thinkers went to the past to make music from the future.

🚨 Rakta, Falha Comum: Creepazoid emanations from a subterranean plane.

🐣 Sunwatchers, Illegal Moves: Ecstatic protest music summoning the beauty and rage of Alice Coltrane, Sonny Sharrock, Rhys Chatham and Hawkwind.

🏞 Bill Orcutt, Odds Against Tomorrow: The most engaging, radical, but surprisingly accessible solo guitar album of the year. Bill Orcutt's ragged-yet-tender guitar skronk gives shaggy texture to rapturous melodies.

🍕 Control Top, Covert Contracts: This hits some dance-punky Erase Errata sweet spots for me, but with the technical finesse of a power trio.

🚟 Real Life Rock & Roll Band, Hollerin' the Spirit: Applies minimalist techniques to rumbling, dueling guitar histrionics with a reckless, but locked-in energy. Never woulda thunk American Football and Henry Flynt could hoedown together.

🐠 Caroline Shaw & Attacca Quartet, Orange: Balances austere beauty with rumbling earth. Riveting music for string quartet.

💥 Mdou Moctor, Ilana (The Creator): Where ZZ Top bombast, Black Sabbath riffs and Tuareg trance rhythms swirl into an acid-rock stomp.

👑 Vagabon, Vagabon: Goes so many places, yet always returns home.

🎭 JPEGMAFIA, All My Heroes Are Cornballs: A neon-freaked feast blasted in slow mo and fast forward all at once.

🌆 Denzel Curry, ZUU: Dude's a metal rapper without a metal band, but if he ever started one, I'm down 100 percent.

💨 Whistling Arrow, Whistling Arrow: An avant UK supergroup of prepared guitar, violin, electronics and hypnotic percussion drinks deep of dark lagers and mossy earth.

🐸 101 Notes on Jazz: Things are getting hard around the boloney hole...

🐳 M. Sage, Catch a Blessing: Warm, fuzzy world-building from blocks of sound stretched and warped into a new nostalgia.

🚇 Mizmor, Cairn: Deliberate and patient in its annihilating pace; lumbering, yet regally melodic riffs echo into a chasm of feedback.

🌅 Takafumi Matsubara, Strange, Beautiful And Fast: Next-level grind from the Gridlink mastermind and friends. While No One Knows What the Dead Think picked up where Discordance Axis left off, Takafumi Matsubara shreds into the future.

🐎 American Football, LP3: A reunion that keeps on giving and growing. Impressionistic in its quietly bursting arrangements and attuned to the individual talents of its vocal guests, especially that stunning duet with Hayley Williams.

🔋 v/a, Seitō: In the Beginning, Woman Was the Sun: This compilation does for modern Japanese women in experimental music what P.S.F.’s Tokyo Flashback comps did for the Japanese psychedelic scenes of yore.

👗 Carly Rae Jepsen, Dedicated: Didn't hold together as much as I wanted, or play like E•MO•TION's late-night mixtape, but every time one of its singles popped up on a friend's playlist -- "Julien," "Want You in My Room," "The Sound" and especially the slow-burn synth-pop exhaustion of "Too Much" -- I'd think, "Carly Rae Jepsen is the Queen of the Song I Needed Right Now."

🌕 Rong, wormhat: Just bonkers. Boston's Rong channels the joyous chaos of Japanese punks Melt-Banana and the aggro skronk of Brainiac with a tad of Deerhoof's weirdo-pop hooks.

✊🏿 Sounds of Liberation, Sounds of Liberation / Unreleased Columbia University 1973: Free jazz and funk band deep in spiritual grooves. Killer performances all around, but such a trip to hear more from young vibraphonist Khan Jamal during his Drum Dance to the Motherland era.

🐬 Great Grandpa, Four of Arrows: If Sixpence None the Richer made an emo record, but only had Return of the Frog Queen on the mood board.

📳 Sarah Louise, Nighttime Birds and Morning Stars: One of my favorite guitarists right now. Digitally processes melodies and single notes in an electronic elation landing somewhere between Robert Fripp, Alice Coltrane and Terry Riley.

📮 Sarah Hennies, Reservoir 1: An immersive sound cycle in constant motion, a quiet rumble that slowly transforms in and out of a glorious clatter.

👣 Psychedelic Speed Freaks, Psychedelic Speed Freaks: Munehiro Narita essentially picks up where High Rise left off, still plays the guitar like it's about to blow up.

🍩 Town Portal, Of Violence: Most instrumental post/prog-rock puts me to sleep, but this Danish trio illustrates just how dynamic and sound-rich this music can be.

🛀 Jim O'Rourke, steamroom 45: An electronic excavation from the deep abyss. The 37-minute "Sigaretstraat" is a master class in patience, dynamics and sublime dissonance.

🎀 Cristina Quesada, I Think I Heard a Rumor: Multi-lingual, ultra-chic dance-pop with super-smart synth arrangements. Think: Tiki drinks and mod dresses.

⏹ John Luther Adams, Become Desert: Truly time-less music; as in, music without time.

⏏ Julia Reidy, brace, brace: Late night, longform excursions that offer an alternate Blade Runner soundtrack with frenzied 12-string, fuzzy synth glossolalia and an Auto-Tuned bummer haze.

🚞 A Million Dollars, I Love Your Voice and I Love You: Weird and warped twee-pop that woulda headlined Silent Barn.

📠 Priests, The Seduction of Kansas: Truth-telling and truth-seeking through a mangled disco haze and bleak New Wave romanticism.

🏭 Werner Durand with Amelia Cuni and Victor Meertens, processions: Majestic drones capture an undulating wonder with enveloping somnolence.

🎳 Sheer Mag, A Distant Call: The denim-and-leather-jacket-wearing standard bearers of truly independent rock and roll double-downed on their sound, but opened their hearts a bit more.

📒 Susan Alcorn / Joe McPhee / Ken Vandermark, Invitation to a Dream: Illuminates the flickering motions of exploration.

😱 Serpent Column, Mirror in Darkness: Pitch-black metal chaos with forceful melodies twisted into the tableau. Honestly? Deathspell Omega but skramz.

🏅 Pernice Brothers, Spread the Feeling: Joe Pernice digs into his '80s record collection to return with some of his most delicately written, winsome guitar-pop in years and tons of one-liners: "Love is a shoeless charlatan, a silver-tongued huckster with a sadist’s lipless grin."

🍓 Kalie Schorr, Open Book: Whip-smart, hook-twanged country-pop raised on MTV2 pop-punk and Sheryl Crow.

📀 Angel Olsen, All Mirrors: In a year where we lost Scott Walker, this felt like a torch passed from 1969.

😪 Mount Eerie, Lost Wisdom pt. 2: Phil Elverum draws us in evermore, revisiting a beloved album, mode and collaborator (the remarkable Julie Doiron), and molding them into his ever-changing songwriting and circumstance. Contains the most tender couplet of the year, which I'll carry with me always: "If ever the bonfire that I carry around could warm you again / I will be out here in the weather for you glowing."

🙉 75 Dollar Bill, I Was Real: Serious hypno-grooves from these drone excavators.

👢 Karen Marks, Cold Cafe: The early '80s artist behind the Sky Girl comp's broodiest track gets a few more songs of existential synth-pop and jangly post-punk. Just wanna put them on mixtapes for friends.

🍻 Haunt, If Icarus Could Fly: Synthesizes an earnest, studied love for '80s heavy metal with tons of guitar harmonies and can-crushing anthems, yes, but also a ton of heart.

🍖 Bob Dylan, The Rolling Thunder Revue: The strangest, most mystical and wild Dylan persona in all of its face-painted glory.

🌹 A Pregnant Light, Broken Play: Damian Master's endless creativity and shameless bravado coalesce into a rugged beauty. As always, riffs for days.

🦄 Fire-Toolz, Field Whispers (Into the Crystal Palace): Clashes New Age synthscapes, clubby raves, jazz fusion and metal shrieks into an idiosyncratic master's pure creation.

🌇 Maria W Horn, Epistasis: Quiet, yet forceful acoustic elements are wrapped in the sinews of technology to blur composition. A stirring mix of icy string drones and minimalist piano.

🐲 Soul Glo, The N**** in Me Is Me: Distills the rage and terror of living in America while being black with blunt force.

🍢 Mára, Here Behold Your Own: Snapshots of a time before parenthood rendered in garbled organ, ambient guitar loops and echoing lullabies. Felt this one deeply.

🚙 The Go-Betweens, G Stands for Go-Betweens: The Go-Betweens Anthology - Volume 2: There's a live KCRW version of "Quiet Heart" that just absolutely destroys me. Deeply thankful for the presentation and preservation that's gone into these box sets.

😈 Bat for Lashes, Lost Girls: A coming-of-age concept album about a teenage vampire gang that was somehow severely overlooked. Some of Natasha's most tender songwriting and a rich synth-pop world that'd make M83 jealous.

#2019 in music

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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15 Best James Bond 007 Games Ever

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After multiple delays, No Time to Die is finally hitting theaters in the UK and U.S., marking Daniel Craig’s final appearance as super spy James Bond, the end of an era for one of the more beloved 007s. It’s still too early to say in which direction the storied franchise will go next, but now is the perfect time to look back at the history of 007 in video games, especially as Hitman studio IO Interactive prepares to bring James Bond back to gaming!

Just like the films, some Bond video games are much better than others. There are a couple of stinkers out there, but also some all-time classics. If you’re looking to get an extra fix of 007 ahead of No Time to Die, these are the secret agent’s very best adventures on consoles and PC:

15. 007 Legends

2012 | Eurocom | PC, PS3, X360, Wii U

While 007 Legends is the most recently released Bond game, it also has some serious issues that keep it from placing higher on this list. You play as the Daniel Craig version of Bond re-living his past adventures. That sounds fun in theory, but seeing the current Bond and modern gadgets in missions based on Goldfinger and Moonraker never quite feels right.

Worse, the entire campaign feels more like a generic Call of Duty clone than a true 007 experience. While stealth is an option in most scenarios, it doesn’t even work that well. In a spy game! There are worse ways to kill a few hours, but there are also much better Bond games out there. All that said, this installment does provide a great tour of Bond’s greatest cinematic hits for newcomers and longtime fans alike.

14. 007 Racing

2000 | Eutechnyx | PS1

There have been so many amazing chase sequences in the James Bond films that a 007 game focused solely on driving seems like the perfect fit. The results, however, were pretty mixed. There’s a good selection of cars from the movies here (including the iconic Ashton Martin DB5), and when missions focus on just driving as quickly as possible, it’s a pretty fun game. More problems arise if you find yourself in any sort of combat situation.

The biggest problem with 007 Racing is just that it tried to do too much in a PS1 game. The technology wasn’t there yet. Make a new 007 Racing with a decent budget and it could top a list like this in a few years. But if you love Bond’s cars, this is the best way to get in the driver’s seat.

13. GoldenEye: Rogue Agent

2004 | Electronic Arts | GCN, PS2, Xbox

The reason Rogue Agent is on this list is because it tried to do something new with the Bond franchise, even if it ultimately missed the mark. First, you don’t even play as 007. Instead, you’re an ex-MI6 agent with a cybernetic eye. That’s also why the game is called GoldenEye. It has nothing else to do with the movie, or the much better 1997 video game.

Putting aside the tenuous James Bond connections, Rogue Agent is a pretty typical first-person shooter from the era with a couple neat tricks up its sleeve. You can see through walls and deflect bullets with your magic “golden eye.” There was also a really solid multiplayer mode that was sadly taken offline years ago. If EA had just called it something else or not included the Bond connections, it would probably be much more fondly remembered today.

12. Tomorrow Never Dies

1999 | Black Ops Entertainment | PS1

The best thing that can be said about Tomorrow Never Dies is that it has a really great soundtrack. Of course it includes the classic Bond theme, and the movie theme by Sheryl Crow, but just minute-to-minute, the game has a lot of pumping tracks that would feel right at home in any film in the franchise.

As for the gameplay…it’s fine. Tomorrow Never Dies is heavily inspired by the shooting and stealth gameplay of Syphon Filter, but not quite as good. And Syphon Filter hasn’t exactly aged gracefully. At least the skiing and driving levels are pretty fun though.

11. GoldenEye 007: Reloaded

2011 | Eurocom | PS3, X360, Wii

Never say never again, but due to the complicated rights issues, GoldenEye 007 will probably never see an official re-release, even if it would certainly be welcomed by millions of gamers who grew up in the ’90s. Instead of dealing with legalities, Activision decided to just make its own version of GoldenEye with a modified story and Daniel Crag in the Bond role instead of Pierce Brosnan.

And Goldeneye Reloaded is pretty good, with lots of varied objectives and high production value. It actually feels like an authentic James Bond experience. There’s even a respectable multiplayer mode that channels a lot of what made the original game great. Still, the level design never quite reaches the heights of the N64 classic, and the AI is pretty bad in the single player campaign, which keeps this from being an all-time great Bond game.

10. James Bond 007: The Duel

1992 | The Kremlin | Sega Genesis

The Duel is a really ridiculous game, but also way more enjoyable than it has any right to be. Timothy Dalton lends his “likeness” to Bond for the last time as the secret agent infiltrates enemy bases with only his trusty pistol so that he can plant bombs and rescue identical damsels in distress. There are plenty of generic henchmen to shoot, but Oddjob and Jaws (apparently borrowing one of Dr. Eggman’s leftover boss machines) also make appearances.

Even though it feels a little by the numbers at times, the controls are tight and the 16-bit soundtrack is surprisingly strong. You could do much worse with a licensed platformer from the early ‘90s.

9. James Bond 007

1998 | Saffire | Game Boy

While everyone remembers Rare’s N64 Bond offering from the year before, gamers overlooked this gem for the original Game Boy. James Bond 007 is played from a top-down perspective and it was never even released in color, but Saffire still managed to pack a truer Bond experience into this tiny cartridge than many more technically advanced games have.

There’s an original story with plenty of humor and innuendo, the option to sneak around or use karate moves, and the studio even managed to include baccarat and the classic James Bond theme. This one is still well worth tracking down.

8. Blood Stone

2010 | Bizarre Creations | PC, PS3, X360

Blood Stone received a lot of hate from critics upon its release, but looking back now, it’s hard to understand why. The combination of cover-based shooting, melee combat, and focus kills that let you quickly dispatch enemies hold up really well. And Bizarre Creations, best known for the excellent Project Gotham Racing series, even threw in a few very fun (though short) driving sections.

Daniel Craig and Judi Dench are back to lend their voices to the game as James Bond and M respectively. With its excellent original plot, nonstop action, and high production values, Blood Stone is the closest thing you’ll get to an interactive Craig Bond movie.

7. From Russia with Love

2005 | Electronic Arts | GCN, PS2, Xbox

From Russia with Love is probably best known as the Bond game that brought Sean Connery back to the role for the final time. EA even got him to record some new dialogue, though Bond is still modeled off his classic ‘60s look. Between the presence of (arguably) the best Bond, a plot based on one of his most beloved films, and the use of the iconic jetpack from Thunderball (just because it’s awesome), From Russia with Love is pure fan service from start to finish.

The game isn’t completely true to the movie, though. Legal issues have plagued the Bond franchise for years and that meant some odd changes to the game’s story, with the villainous organization OCTOPUS replacing the movie’s SPECTRE. If the rights could be worked out now, From Russia with Love is begging for a modern remaster.

6. The World Is Not Enough

2000 | Eurocom | N64

Even N64 aficionados forget about the second Bond FPS released for the console. The World Is Not Enough takes a lot of obvious cues from GoldenEye, with similar missions and level layouts, plus a respectable multiplayer mode. But it also carves out its own identity with several new weapons and gadgets. The game also added voice acting — something that’s sorely missed when going back to GoldenEye now.

Does everything work here? Not quite. The AI is particularly weak, and it’s not the easiest game to go back to now, but at least it’s aged better than the movie it’s based on.

5. Agent Under Fire

2001 | Electronic Arts | GCN, PS2, Xbox

Agent Under Fire went through a really tortured development. It was first intended to be an improved port of The World Is Not Enough. Then, it was going to be more of a direct sequel to GoldenEye. Finally, it ended up as its own original project, and it still holds up pretty well, with some solid shooting mechanics and driving missions inspired by Need for Speed. It’s just unfortunate EA couldn’t secure the likeness of any past James Bond actors, so 007 ended up looking like Sterling Archer.

And while the multiplayer may not be the best a Bond game has ever seen, there are some great maps here, and thanks to the inclusion of bots, you can still fire it up today. There’s not much to dislike about Agent Under Fire, and EA only improved on the formula, the following year…

4. Nightfire

2002 | Eurocom | GCN, PS2, Xbox

Think of Nightfire as a much more refined version of Agent Under Fire. After taking a break from the last game, Pierce Brosnan provided his likeness for Nightfire (although someone else voices the superspy). The FPS levels are much more fun to navigate than its predecessor’s and require the use of tons of gadgets to complete. The AI puts up a real fight, too. The driving levels maybe aren’t quite as enjoyable as the ones in Agent Under Fire, but that can be forgiven when the shooting is this good.

The campaign is really short, but multiplayer has surprising legs, with eight excellently designed maps, a dozen different modes, customizable bots, and a handful of playable Bond villains from past movies. It could have been a huge hit if console gaming had online multiplayer at the time.

3. Quantum of Solace

2008 | Treyarch | PC, PS3, X360

Largely ignored at release, Quantum of Solace is probably the most underrated Bond game. It’s built on the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare engine, which had just been released the previous year, so the shooting is silky smooth. But it also tried to innovate with melee attacks and a cover system that switches to a third-person perspective. The moment-to-moment gameplay is filled with the explosions and big set pieces that Call of Duty is known for. You don’t do much sneaking either, but that fits the grittier tone of the Daniel Craig movies.

It’s unfortunate that Activision went in a different direction with the Bond license after Quantum of Solace. This was easily the best of their offerings, and a Treyarch-developed sequel could have been something really special.

2. Everything or Nothing

2004 | Electronic Arts | GCN, PS2, Xbox

Everything or Nothing is notable for being the first big budget Bond game that actually tried to move the series out of the shadow of GoldenEye. The switch to a third-person perspective wasn’t revolutionary, but it did allow for much better stealth gameplay, plus the addition of rappelling and a neat spider robot. Everything or Nothing actually makes you feel like a superspy with an arsenal of cool gadgets at your disposal.

Even the obligatory driving sections are firing on all cylinders here, with one Road Rash-inspired chase sequence featuring Bond on a motorcycle that’s quite possibly being the best level in any Bond game ever. Everything or Nothing would be a fantastic template to follow for any developer looking to resurrect the Bond franchise in video games. (Talking to you, IO!)

1. GoldenEye 007

1997 | Rare | N64

Of course GoldenEye is still the best Bond game of all time. A half dozen developers have tried to outdo it over the last two decades and still GoldenEye reigns supreme. The funny thing is that nothing about GoldenEye should have worked. Licensed games were notorious for their poor quality in the ‘90s. Movie tie-ins released two years after a film has hit theaters are almost always shovelware. Plus, the legendary multiplayer mode was only added to the game just a few months before release. On paper, GoldenEye sounds like it should have been a massive disaster on par with E.T. for the Atari 2600.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

And yet, the final product still stands out as one of the greatest first-person shooters of all time. Yes, it’s a little rough around the edges now, and the frame rate really chugs along at times, but it’s still incredibly fun to complete objectives in classic levels like Facility or Train. Or just watch watch a mission completely go to hell, as you try to survive against a horde of guards who’ve cornered you. The replay value, with tons of unlockables for completing missions quickly, still outshines many modern shooters.

Then there’s the multiplayer with its near-perfect maps and endless options. GoldenEye 007 was the peak of multiplayer shooters on consoles in the ’90s, with its fast-paced shooting and excellent maps. Sure, it would be easy to make a much better looking and sounding Bond game now, but it’s hard to imagine any team could create something more innovative or more fun. GoldenEye 007 remains the undisputed king of Bond games.

The post 15 Best James Bond 007 Games Ever appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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nostalgiaultrame · 6 years

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A relative unknown at the time, Jon Hopkins emerged as an artist in his own right on his fourth full-length release with an album that broke down the significant wall dividing electronic/techno music from a mainstream audience. It feels difficult to comprehend the impression that Immunity left upon me when I first heard it back in the summer of 2013. That impact exists now as a collection of thoughts and emotions, linked to experiences from a personally tumultuous year. It became my long player of the year; not only my favourite release but the one that got the most consistent play as the months went on and winter approached. Despite dozens of other albums competing for my attention, Immunity continued to linger in the mind. I know I’m not alone in regard to that impact. Immunity is an album whose reputation precedes it, now even more so than it did during that long summer. At the time, you might’ve checked it out because a friend of a friend was singing its praises, or you’d glance over someone’s shoulder on the tube in morning rush hour to see them listening to it (my wandering eye spotted this on several occasions). Or better yet, how its slow-burner status was confirmed once it bagged a Mercury Music Prize nomination and the predictable spike in sales solidified a burgeoning love for an album that already had the formations of a stone cold contemporary classic. Immunity bulldozed virtually every other album released in 2013 in its ability to straddle that revered space where artistic vision and commercial success amalgamate without even so much as a whiff of compromise. That it resonated as much as it did was mostly a surprise, not least of all to Hopkins; it appeared seemingly out of nowhere and only built on its success as time went on. I can think of perhaps no other electronic release this decade that has achieved the same success without intentionally playing to the kind of audience the label might market it to. (Grimes’ Visions has arguably a more enduring legacy than Immunity, but not even the most hardcore Claire Boucher fan can say the superb Art Angels wasn’t conceived as more accessible in response to Visions’ breakthrough success.) Compare some of the other releases of 2013 with Immunity and it’s easy to see how it stands alone as a sort of outlier, hallmarked within strict perimeters of Hopkins’ fascination with sound design, a technique he employs throughout every track that can only be described as a ‘sensory overload.’ There are most likely two caveats when it comes to finding a worthy 2013 release to compare to Immunity’s reputation. In my experience (cross-referencing to jog my memory of a specific time, place and even an album’s cultural clout in 2013), all came up short. Firstly, there are those that no doubt matched the artistry of Hopkins’ larger than life ambitions, yet quite understandably, were too obtuse to make ripples beyond the pool of those within esoteric earshot (Amygdala, R Plus Seven, Tomorrow’s Harvest). Secondly, there are those albums that felt borne of the weight of commercial expectation and succeeded, managing to deliver healthy sales, news features and, by 2018, reverence as cult albums amongst a select group of devout diehards (The Bones Of What You Believe, Random Access Memories and, most notably, Settle). All of these releases were big news in some way in 2013, the final three managing to achieve particular acclaim for crossing over genres and blurring the distinction between indie, rock, dance and synth-pop. What can we learn from Immunity by comparing it with these other albums and Hopkins’ ability to communicate beyond the usual artist/audience relationship? Was it all pure luck? Usually a couple of the hits from Settle or Random Access Memories will find their way onto most people’s Spotify playlists; a Latch here or a Get Lucky there. It might be less common for those listeners to know the albums back to front, and almost certainly not in the case of R Plus Seven. Even Immunity falls into that trap, yet there are a number of clues as to its enduring appeal and why such a relatively large audience connected with an hour-long electronic album almost devoid of vocals. Hopkins is a classically-trained pianist and his piano playing comes to the fore on numerous tracks on Immunity, the most arresting of which is Abandon Window. Technically the album’s showstopper, it takes a heartbreaking piano motif to its core and fuses it with the sound of distant erupting fireworks in its second half. It’s difficult to know what kind of emotional reaction we’re meant to take from Abandon Window, but maybe that’s the whole point? We can take what we want from an album that is more concerned with pushing the boundaries on sound content, leaving us to focus purely on our emotional response. The lack of vocals throughout the majority of the album feel in part responsible for creating this strong reaction in a large number of listeners. Devoid of that most instantaneous and human of responses to popular music, the listener is forced to have an internal reaction over an external one. We cannot sing along to Immunity; we may nod and hum or tap our feet, but its cerebral and hypnotic rhythms reflect a desire to solve one of its most common themes; the harmony that arises from the discord of its rhythmic melodies and archaic stop-start programming. Within it evolves a kind of beauty out of madness. It’s like solving a mathematical problem in our heads and slowly making sense of its garbled information overload, problems that become more familiar as we learn how to trapeze through Hopkins’ den of mystery and intrigue. Hopkins is fascinated with the pure essence of sound and how it can be manipulated. Immunity was recorded over a nine month period in his east London studio and the confident, jagged instrumentation of most of the album’s ‘upbeat’ tracks reflect not only a remarkable tactility but pure joy in the power of creation. Second track Open Eye Signal is arguably Hopkins’ most popular and enduring song. It captures perfectly the album’s technique of sustained delay and release, accruing tension ever so slowly with each passing wave of noise until it become so strong that everything building up behind it cascades forward, tumbling down in a glorious, shimmering mess of glitchy, fragmented distortion. Its melodies are distinct and minuscule, yet our brains are wired to group them together into larger blocks that click together like a Jenga tower. Working better as a motif, they function like small shards of glass reflecting light at an infinite number of angles, repeating and recurring with emphasis placed at key points to drive forth a particular mood or feeling. Hopkins manages to sew them together so intricately and so beautifully that they work just as well as modern pop music. It’s impossible to listen to Open Eye Signal (or its sister track Collider) without thinking about Hopkins’ intentions in the same way one might feel Kubrick or Scorsese lurking in their mind whilst watching Barry Lyndon or Taxi Driver; the director’s vision is so apparent that it affects every frame, even more so at intervals where a pinnacle thought or idea begins to crest. Immunity’s position as a landmark album this decade is thrown into even starker contrast when we consider its successor, Singularity. Released a few weeks ago, the weight of expectation surrounding Singularity was intense, so much so that it landed within the top ten of the official UK album charts (Immunity peaked at 63). Reaction has been strong with critical accolades aplenty (no doubt a Mercury Prize nomination will follow), yet Singularity feels like more of a shuffle than a stride forward. It’s a product of the reactionary effect of Immunity’s surprise word-of-mouth success. To be fair to Hopkins, Singularity contains many moments of awe, it’s just that they feel indebted to Immunity’s jackpot-hitting formula. As with Grimes, how could it not be? Immunity felt like it had the power to change your life, but no one’s life was changed more so by its success than Hopkins’. Even the titles have an uncanny similar...ity, along with the artwork, and the fact that the first half contains the heavier techno numbers before giving way to more ambient soundscapes. Over time we must come to view both albums as separate works and allow Singularity the distinction of its own merit. Would we be satisfied with anything less than what Hopkins has bestowed upon us? Would we be happier if Hopkins had taken an entirely left turn? Most of us have been waiting patiently for a follow-up to Immunity that captures that same lightning in a bottle, so it feels particularly unfair to criticise him for continuing its sound. His style is one that is hard to pick faults with and Hopkins has stated that Singularity actually contains many studio advancements. Whether you can spot them or even care doesn’t matter. We know that lightning never strikes twice in the same spot and if Singularity feels mildly underwhelming, it stems from the relationship I’ve built with Immunity over the years. Had Immunity never existed, Singularity could be taken of its own accord and we would be freer to make up our own minds about all the same things we did five years ago, but since it is indebted to its predecessor in style and content, we can never know what that might feel like. It will be interesting to see how time continues to shape Immunity and its reputation as a landmark electronic release. Singularity has thrown that into sharp relief this year. If we can deduce anything at this early stage, it’s that the sound Hopkins has carved out across these two albums hints at a bigger picture, something that could be blown wide apart on his next release, and that is definitely an exciting idea to mull over whilst we wait for the next chapter of his journey.

#jon hopkins #immunity #singularity #open eye signal #disclosure #daft punk #dj koze #oneohtrix point never #martin scorsese #stanley kubrick #techno #electronic #music #chvrches #grimes #visions #art angels

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globaljobalert-blog · 11 months

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elipodda · 6 years

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He was the first one. A few minutes before everyone else, Tom Ellis called them, the fans, and with a tweet telling his true sadness, confirmed that Fox had cancelled Lucifer.

After his, a river flowed… The shocked showrunners – the 3 tweets sequentially written by Joe Henderson tell a lot of a real dismay. Cast, all of them with a broken heart.

Though, it was a moment. Just a blink of an eye to shake off a tear looked out.

8 minutes after Tom’s tweet, even before Joe’s signal, fans slammed their eyes – they could not be wet at that moment- made a deep breath, stretched out their hands and, since that moment… They have never stopped tweeting. Never.

It would not be enough the space here on WordPress to show the enchant, the magic and the overflowing power of an event that both Socials and TV series had never seen to happen. There have been other battles, oh if there have been any! In the last 20 years, fandom of one rather than another TV series have echoed more than once their roar of protest and non-resignation to a declared and marked destiny. With disparate results. However, Lucifer’s cancellation reaction tells a story never told before.

From 4pm EST on Friday 11 May, on Twitter and on the Internet there is no room for others but Lucifer. Even now, as we write. And who knows how much longer. The 2 hashtags chosen, the first #savelucifer, at the battle cry launched at the news of the cancellation, the other #pickuplucifer about 15 hours later, when fans feared the first could lose visibility – Not even fans were aware of their strength – the 2 hashtags echoed unstoppable on numbers that talk about more than 4M tweets for #savelucifer, 6.7M engagement, 2.9M for #pickuplucifer, with 4M engagement, the hashtag #Lucifer that – not to disfigure – in 2 days brings back more than 1 million Tweets.

Tom Ellis is the second most typed name online after Donald Trump – call us Tom when you feel ready, and a #Tom4President is arranged in no time! – 5 Among names of showrunners and cast are among the 20 most typed of Twitter. Hours and hours, more than 5 days now, on World Trends. A sequence of national Trends with the intensity of lightning during a summer storm: US, a lot, then Canada, Brazil, UK, Italy, Spain, Malaysia, Turkey, Romania, Hungary, France, and countless others. One night, on Monday, while the SEASON FINALE aired, no one will ever forget. At least none of those that were there. And we were so many. Really many.

Why, how can you forget that finale ?! How can you forget 40 minutes of television have managed to connect 3 years of stories and emotions, anxieties and trepidations, to collect them all under a pair of white and bleeding wings and then, momentum, everything back in flight to the future, tomorrow,next chapter to tell, next emotion to share. Together. If the fight to save Lucifer was a passionate but blind fight in the days before the finale, since Monday, it has become the unstoppable march of those who know that it is not over because it can not be over. Not this way. Not only for the consistency and validity of the plot put together by Modrovich and Henderson, or for the amazing cliffhanger built to project the audience directly to next moment, let alone next season. So far storyline has been unraveled so consistently, anyone can easily realize the road traveled so far is only part of the journey, nothing but distant from its proper end. It can not be over this way, mostly because of aspects maybe worthier than any practical or technical evaluation of Lucifer as a show.

The emotional reality created by the show, the empathic dimension in which all the involved subjects have found connection, from showrunners to cast, from crew to fans, has generated a wave of sharing – as emotions as goals – so unexpected and impetuous to shake the foundations of a system, speaking a new language, writing new rules. Because it’s not a protest that’s been setting up uninterruptedly since Friday. Those you read on cast and crew accounts are not fitting expressions, more a battle cry that resounds worldwide, echoing from people to people, protagonists or audience, everyone ignited by the same passion, the same certainty that there will be no end to the battle until there is a future for Lucifer. Never seen. It has never happened before.

Go to read Tom Ellis’ tweets: you will find a true leader. Read. Read them all, DB Woodside and Rachael Harris,Aimée Garcia and Lesley-Ann Brandt, Kevin Alejandro and Lauren German, and Ildy Modrovich and Joe Henderson, brave warriors dressed in armor of passion and sensitivity, humor and sincerity. Go on Twitter and see how they were fearless and generous in leading an army of indomitable ones, ready to put their hearts at risk, ready to follow them to Hell, if necessary, to give Lucifer another day, another night at Lux.

They were not alone. Where reaction to Fox cancellation struck, it was,paradoxically, outside the sphere of “interest” related to Lucifer. Journalists, writers, influencers and bloggers have not hesitated to join the campaign to save Lucifer, tweeting alongside fans and cast, all of them writing meaningful words on show, giving space and voice to Tom, ILdy, Joe and the other cast members. Scrolling through timeline of the two hashtags, it was surprising and exciting to see how many insiders, “colleagues” came in, siding in favor of the show.

Other fandoms, then. Oh, other fandoms … they brought tears in our eyes. Nobody held back. Many, really many raised on the timeline to leave their help, maybe a single tweet, a single hashtag, but the strong legacy that no one understood reasons of Lucifer’s cancellation. Nobody agreed on it.

And nobody gave up in this 5 days of fight. Nobody ever thought of it. Nobody. Ildy Modrovich and Joe Henderson will survive this adventure with carpal tunnel for the hours spent online alongside the fans. Tom Ellis – that while we finish writing is fighting tooth and nail online on BBC spreading how much Lucifer is worth it – Tom, when this extraordinary battle he is fighting with pride and charisma of a true leader will be won, well … he will sleep.

Lauren, Rachael, Lesley-Ann, Aimée, Kevin, DB will return to consider their phones harmless cells, no more weapons to fight for lives of their Chloe, Linda, Maze, Ella, Dan and Amenadiel.

Fans, well, even the fans will rest. It has been exciting to see them to interchange one another, to say good morning and goodbye, to take no more than 3 hours of sleep a night, then back online, there again, not just to post hashtags but to joke and to dream, together, resolute not to give up. No matter how long it will take. Lucifer deserves a new home. Script deserves a new blank sheet. The awareness that this adventure is nothing but another step on the way, another stage of the journey is truly strong in everybody’s heart. Reading this awareness in the fans’ words, listening to it in Tom’s voice, it’s such an inspiration about value and meaning of sharing emotions and empathy…

But YOU, person in charge in the control room, why should you make a phone call to say you want to pick up Lucifer ?! Do not do it because the whole world has been screaming online since 5 days that is worth it. Do not do it to ensure the most powerful advertising campaign ever seen – the battle to #savelucifer is over on Wikipedia! – And do not do it because it’s free. Do not believe Tom Ellis, showrunners, Bruckheimer film’s producers who crazy tweeted alongside the fandom … Do not believe the journalists and influencers of the sector, but above all do not believe fans. What do they understand about television ?! They are not the ones that will crowd the lucky channel that will broadcast Season4!

You, person in the control room, do not listen to anyone. Simply, close the door of your office and take only 40 minutes, watch an episode. The first maybe, or even the last one, doesn’t matter.. What matters is what will happen next. You will be stunned because you will not understand how someone has thought of putting an end to such a good thing. But you will not be able to see your reasons or your convenience yet. It will not matter then. You will have gone further. And there will only be one thing you will want to do. To have an active Twitter account on your mobile phone to proclaim strongly Lucifer is worthwhile, Lucifer must have a new home, history can not stay untold.

However you do not need a Twitter account. You just need to pick up your phone and do that call. Because you too, like us, can not help but know what will happen to Lucifer tomorrow.

Federica, Elisa, Angela

"So in a weird way, I’m not surprised about people being angry. I just wasn’t ready this tsunami of love that came with it.” Tom Ellis - LUCIFER: CAST CREW & FANDOM RISE TOGETHER AGAINST FOX CANCELLATION- #savelucifer #pickuplucifer He was the first one. A few minutes before everyone else, Tom Ellis called them, the fans, and with a tweet telling his true sadness, confirmed that Fox had cancelled Lucifer.

#Lucifer #savelucifer #tom ellis #TomEllis #tv series

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sussex-nature-lover · 3 years

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Thursday 28th January 2021

Fossils. Ammonite and a woman named Mary Anning

Firstly a reminder that it’s a big day tomorrow and all weekend what with the Big Garden Birdwatch running and the film ‘The Dig’ being released on Netflix. I wrote about the film Here and the BTO’s Big Garden Birdwatch too.

Nuthatch in our garden

So that’s the reminders done.

Last night on BBC’s Winterwatch they were talking about the Isle of Skye and Dinosaur hunting - evidence of not real life Jurassic Park and last Autumn there was another film about a 19th Century historical, little known, woman who make a huge difference to the study of the natural world. I read about her in a BBC article.

Kate Winslet starred, but I haven’t really heard much about it. Apparently it wasn’t styled as a biopic and contained a largely fictional account of Mary’s romantic inclinations, despite her impact being to change our understanding of life in prehistoric times

"Mary Anning was three things you didn't want to be in 19th-century Britain - she was female, working class and poor" says Anya Pearson, who is campaigning for a statue in her honour.

"This was a time when even educated women weren't allowed to own property or vote, but despite this horrendous upbringing she was able to do all these incredible things."

Lyme Regis: location shown by the red pin in the map

Lyme Regis, Dorset, in the south west of England, where Mary lived, was submerged 200 million years ago. This is why there are so many pre-historic fossils from underwater creatures found there. Mary often went fossil hunting after a storm because this usually caused bits of cliff to fall and for rocks to break open which made the fossil hunting easier. On the flip side of that it actually meant where the family lived was quite a dangerous location.

We’ve visited, many many years ago and had a lovely break. It’s very picturesque countryside and is also famous for the Meryl Streep film French Lieutenant’s Woman. I’ve walked along the famous Cobb, but not with such dramatic effect.

Original film poster

As you would gather from the ‘poor’ comment, Mary Anning's life was scarred by hardship and tragedy, but also quite incredibly triumphant scientific firsts. Born on 21 May 1799 she had been one of 10 children: eight of her nine siblings died before reaching adulthood.

Her father was a cabinet maker but used to scour the beach for fossils to sell and supplement his income. Mary would go out to help him and this is where he interest grew. She was only 11 when he died of TB after a serious fall. Mary carried on the sales to try and help the family survive. Although she had little formal education she could read and so schooled herself in subjects like geology and anatomy and would even dissect modern animals like fish and cuttlefish so that she could better understand the fossils she was finding.

Only a year after her father's death Mary and her brother discovered a skeleton - now known to be an Ichthyosaur - this was the event for which she’s most remembered today. This complete skeleton was around 17′ long. She regularly risked her life in her hunt for fossils, making discoveries that captured the attention of the scientific elite, even though her social status and gender meant she never received the credit she deserved.

Twelve years later, she found the first complete skeleton of a Plesiosaur, a marine reptile so bizarre that scientists thought it was a fake.

The ‘four flipper swimmer’ who ‘flew’ through the ocean.

youtube

The most fantastic find was a Plesiosaur uncovered in 1987. Its abdomen contained bones of an embryo, which proves the animal gave birth to live young.

We’re still learning.

We’ve also got to remember that at the time Mary’s family were non-conformist, t living in a very religious community. The Creation was the subject of society’s beliefs and the notion of extinction was a relatively new idea to science.

Lyme Regis Museum geologist Paddy Howe, who was a technical adviser for Ammonite (the film) describes Anning as a "very poor child who was making fantastic scientific discoveries".

"At this time, geology and palaeontology were burgeoning sciences - just coming into their own, he says. "We know about Ichthyosaur bones from the 1600s but it was the first one to be studied by scientists. It was very important."

The marine reptile was bought from Anning for £23 and later purchased by the British Museum at auction in 1819. It can still be seen at the Natural History Museum. I imagine the value today is priceless.

Make a Virtual Visit to the Museum

Despite Mary Anning's growing reputation, societal norms meant she would never be accepted into the elite scientific community. In fact, when the Geological Society met to discuss whether the plesiosaur was genuine, she was even not invited along - women were not admitted there until the 20th Century.

"If she was born in 1970, she'd be heading up a palaeontology department at Imperial or Cambridge," says David Tucker, director of Lyme Regis museum.

"But she was a commercial fossil hunter; she had to sell what she found. Therefore, the fossils tended to be credited to museums in the name of the rich man that paid for them, rather than the poor woman who found them.

"This isn't just around gender - the history of science is littered with the neglected contributions of working-class scientists."

Mary Anning: image credit the Natural History Museum

Despite her lifetime of groundbreaking work, Mary remained in hardship and died of breast cancer in 1847, aged 47. She is buried at St Michael the Archangel Church in Lyme Regis.

Following her death, Henry De la Beche, President of the Geological Society and a friend of hers, broke with the Society's members-only tradition to read a eulogy at a meeting, paying homage to her achievements.

He wrote: "I cannot close this notice of our losses by death without adverting to that of one, who though not placed among even the easier classes of society, but one who had to earn her daily bread by her labour, yet contributed by her talents and untiring researches in no small degree to our knowledge."

Three years later, a stained-glass window in her memory, paid for by members of the Geological Society, was installed in the church where she was buried. Her legacy is also marked at Lyme Regis Museum, where there is a gallery dedicated to Anning's life. In a pleasing coincidence, the museum stands on the site of her birthplace and family home.

"The fact that the museum is on the site of Mary's house was not in any way planned," Mr Tucker says. "Her family rented a part of the house which stood where we are, right on the edge of the sea.

"They were living in a house that was on the way down and prone to being hit by the huge waves and it was eventually destroyed by a storm."

The design includes Mary’s beloved dog, Tray

More than 170 years after her death, Mary Anning's story is now taught in schools, and a campaign, supported by Sir David Attenborough and Prof Alice Roberts, is under way to erect a statue in her honour.

Evie Swire an 11 year old local schoolgirl, began campaigning for the statue, claiming there were more statues in the UK of men called John than there were of all women.

"She's done all these amazing things and sadly has been lost in history," Evie says.

"There have been a lot of forgotten women in history but all of them were educated and came from a wealthy background, but she was poor and working class," says Evie's mother and campaign trustee Anya Pearson.

"I get angry when people refer to her as 'just a fossil collector' because she had great men of learning travel across Europe to learn from her.

Two years later and the campaign is beginning to bear fruit, reaching the £70,000 stage target that means the statue can be commissioned.

I can’t say I’ve ever had a big interest in dinosaurs or fossils really. It wasn’t something the girls were ever keen on when they were small and so I didn’t get lead down that path like so many parents do these days. The closest I’ve come was finding the rabbit skull in our garden last year - and that’s not going to set the scientific community on fire now is it. Never the less, reading about some women who did have an interest and have worked on important discoveries has whetted my interest and I’ve enjoyed looking at the topics.

NOTES FROM THE KITCHEN:

I found a slightly over-looked roll of ready made puff pastry in the fridge and so with the aid of my trusty lattice roller, I shall be making a leftover-chicken and leek pie.

FUN FACT OF THE DAY:

Mary Anning is said to have been the inspiration for the tongue-twister ‘She sells sea shells by the sea shore’

#Mary Anning ammonite fossils film nature

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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UK Christmas TV 2020: Your Guide to This Year’s Festive Specials

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If you’re the kind of person who tuts at pre-December Christmas trees and moans about supermarkets simultaneously stocking mince pies and Halloween goodies (don’t cross the streams!) then look away now, there’s nothing for you here.

If, however, you’re the sort of person who’s gasping for end-of-year cheer like it’s the last bottle of Evian in a hot, empty desert, then step this way. We’ve collected up all the festive TV specials airing in the UK over Christmas 2020, so you can start mentally circling the ones in your personal schedule.

It being early, there are still announcements to be made, so check back here for updates. Ditto for official air dates and times, which are thin on the ground until the channels lock in their schedules. We’ll pop back and add those in as they’re confirmed.

Starting with our top five picks, here’s a list of everything on the way…

TOP FIVE PICKS

1. Doctor Who: Revolution of the Daleks

Companions Yaz, Graham and Ryan stumble upon a Dalek threat on Earth while the Doctor’s far away and locked up in space prison. How do you fight the Daleks without the Doctor? With the help of an old friend… Festive special ‘Revolution of the Daleks’ is written by Chris Chibnall and directed by ‘Spyfall Part 2’ director Lee Haven Jones.

Air date: TBC

2. Ghosts: Christmas Special

The Ghosts Christmas special is so good, there should be a new one every year. It’s Christmas in Button House and Mike is determined to give his visiting family the perfect Christmas, if they’ll let him. And if his other family – the houseful of historical ghosts only wife Alison can see and hear – behave. 1990s MP Julian is the Ebenezer Scrooge in need of a lesson on the true meaning of Christmas in this terrific family comedy.

Air date: TBC

3. Taskmaster: Christmas Special

We don’t yet know the identities of the five contestants competing in the very first Taskmaster festive special, but we know that they are all brand new to the 10-series comedy, and have been described as “experts in their respective fields”… Fingers crossed for Christmas-themed tasks.

Air date: TBC

4. His Dark Materials Season 2 Finale: Æsahættr

Technically, there’s nothing festive about His Dark Materials (unless the BBC/HBO adaptation takes a serious diversion from Philip Pullman’s books and throws in a few elves) but there’s something very childhood-bedtime and therefore quite Christmassy about this beautiful series. It ended strong in season one, and keeps getting better in season two. This finale is due to bring The Subtle Knife to a close, making way for the final part of the trilogy in the as-yet-unconfirmed (but come on, it’s happening) third season.

Air date: Sunday 20th December, 8.10pm, BBC One

5. Roald & Beatrix, the Tail of the Curious Mouse

From the producers of Sherlock and Dracula, this festive family comedy-drama promises to be something quite special. It reimagines the real-life meeting of two of the UK’s biggest names in children’s literature: Beatrix Potter (played by Dawn French) and Roald Dahl, back when Potter was a recluse and Dahl was a child. Expect puppetry, animation, a host of guest stars and voices, and lots of snow, from Inside No. 9 director David Kerr.

Air date: TBC

COMEDY

Motherland Christmas Special

Top BBC Two parenting sitcom Motherhood returns for a festive special ahead of its third series coming next year. You are cordially invited to Amanda’s annual seasonal soiree… Anna Maxwell-Martin, Diane Morgan, Lucy Punch and Paul Ready star.

Air date: TBC

Upstart Crow: Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow: a Lockdown Christmas 1603

The stage version of Shakespeare sitcom Upstart Crow fell foul of Covid-19 earlier this year, but that hasn’t stopped the team putting together this festive lockdown two-hander special, set in London during the plague, and starring David Mitchell and Gemma Whelan as Shakespeare and Kate.

Air date: TBC

Not Going Out Christmas Special

Lee Mack’s long-running BBC One sitcom is back for another Christmas instalment, filmed under Covid-safe conditions this August. Expect a dedication to dearly departed cast member Bobby Ball.

Air date: TBC

Pandemonium

Katherine Parkinson and Alison Steadman star in this one-off BBC comedy about a family forced to cancel their dream holiday to California, who end up in Margate over the Christmas season.

Air date: TBC

Vicar of Dibley in Lockdown

Dawn French and James Fleet reprise the characters of Geraldine and Hugo in three 10-minute lockdown additions to The Vicar of Dibley canon, airing on BBC One after repeats of the original series (and then repeated later in one half-hour clump).

Air date: starts 7th December, BBC One.

Movies

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By Mark Harrison

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King Gary Christmas Special

Tom Davis returns as Gary King, builder, father, B-B-Q haver, and lover of Terri (the brilliantly funny Laura Checkley) in the first ever King Gary Christmas special. Gary obsesses over making the Crescent’s Christmas lights shine brighter than any others, while Terri tackles their son losing the festive spirit, and Gary’s parents deal with some house guests from hell.

Air date: TBC

Birds of a Feather Christmas Special

Filmed under special Covid-19 regulations, this extended ITV comedy special sees Tracey and Dorien living together in lockdown, while Sharon is stuck on a cruise ship. Les Dennis guest stars.

Air date: TBC

Mrs Brown’s Boys Christmas Specials

Two new lockdown-themed instalments from Brendan O’Carroll’s comedy creation.

Air date: TBC

The Goes Wrong Show

This BBC comedy imported from the stage is fresh from its first full series and guarantees family fun. A nativity play from enthusiastic amateurs the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society? What could possibly go wrong?

Air date: TBC

DRAMA

The Serpent

Jenna Coleman stars alongside Tahar Rahim in this eight-part globetrotting BBC-Netflix drama inspired by the real-life capture of murder suspects Charles Sobhraj and Marie-Andrée Leclerc.

Air date: TBC

The Pembrokeshire Murders

Luke Evans stars in this three-part ITV true crime drama about the search for Welsh serial killer John Cooper.

Air date: TBC

Call the Midwife Christmas Special

The circus is coming to town in the Call the Midwife Christmas special, and its ringmaster will be played by former Doctor, Peter Davison. Set in 1965, it promises to be the usual mix of heart-warming goodness and flinty eyed comment on the absolute golden necessity of the NHS.

Air date: 25th December, 7pm, BBC One

Black Narcissus

Gemma Arterton and Diana Rigg star in a new BBC three-part adaptation of Rumer Godden’s strange, atmospheric novel – famously adapted into a film in 1947 – about a group of nuns in a remote Himalayan outpost.

Air date: TBC

Bridgerton

Julia Quinn’s hit book series set in Regency-era London get the glossy Shondaland treatment in this Netflix series, which can be unwrapped on Christmas Day.

Air date: 25th December

CHILDREN’S

Worzel Gummidge: Saucy Nancy

Mackenzie Crook’s reimagined version of the children’s classic scarecrow stories continues with a new one-hour film, featuring Shirley Henderson as the titular Saucy Nancy (played by Barbara Windsor in the Jon Pertwee version), and Vanessa Redgrave.

Air date: TBC

Zog and the Flying Doctors

Continuing from last year’s utterly charming Zog, this is the fairy tale-bending story of a dragon, a princess and a knight, who all decide to choose a different path in life than the one set out for them. It’s the seventh Julia Donaldon/Axel Scheffler/BBC Christmas adaptation, and promises to be another funny, adorable half hour of TV.

Air date: 25th December, 4.55pm, BBC One

Jack and the Beanstalk: After Ever After

After last year’s Cinderella sequel from David Walliams and Sky One comes the ‘what happened next’ for panto classic Jack and the Beanstalk. Walliams and Sheridan Smith star in this comedy special. There’s a Hansel & Gretel: After Ever After next in the pipeline.

Air date: TBC

Quentin Blake’s Clown

Here’s another lovely half-hour of quiet time with the kids from Channel 4, from the same people who made previous years’ animations of children’s classics The Tiger Who Came To Tea and We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. It’s the story of a discarded clown toy who comes to life and goes on an adventure to find a new home for him and his toy pals. Helena Bonham Carter narrates.

Air date: TBC

Christmas in Storyland

The CBeebies gang is back for another Christmas story featuring a cast of favourites, singing, dancing and interactive fun for little ones.

Air date: 12th December, CBeebies, BBC iPlayer

ENTERTAINMENT

Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing Christmas Special

Bob takes Paul up to his old stomping ground of Middlesborough to fish for grayling in the River Esk, while the pair hold a Christmas office party for two, and meet someone who works with people fighting loneliness at Christmas.

Air date: TBC

The Great Christmas Bake-Off

It’s cakes. At Christmas. Plus Noel Fielding and Matt Lucas larking about on the theme of cakes. Two brand new episodes will each feature the return of four bakers from previous series.

Air date: TBC

The Great Christmas Sewing Bee

The judges will be setting festive sewing challenges to competitors vying for the Christmas crown.

Air date: TBC

The Repair Shop at Christmas

Jay Blades and co. will be restoring cherished Christmas-themed items that have seen better days in this heart-warming word-of-mouth BBC hit.

Air date: TBC

Billy Connolly: It’s Been a Pleasure

To mark Billy Connolly’s retirement from stand-up comedy, ITV has put together a send-off featuring new filming with the man himself in his Florida home, and contributions from a host of stars.

Air date: TBC

The Story of SM:TV Live

A bit of cosy nostalgia here, as ITV stalwarts Ant, Dec and Cat Deeley revisit their time presenting children’s Saturday morning variety show SMTV: Live. Come for Wonky Donkey, stay for Friends spoof Chums.

Air date: TBC

Michael Palin: Travels of a Lifetime

Following the hit BBC Two series revisiting Michael Palin’s travel series, he’s back for a 90-minute festive special revisiting his trip through the Himalayas, with contributions from guest stars.

Air date: TBC

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As well as: Top of the Pops New Year and Christmas Specials. A Strictly Come Dancing Christmas Countdown. A Christmas Would I Lie To You? Festive editions of cookery shows from Jamie Oliver, MasterChef and Mary Berry, festive game shows from The Wall, The Wheel, and a new version of Blankety Blank hosted by Bradley Walsh.

The post UK Christmas TV 2020: Your Guide to This Year’s Festive Specials appeared first on Den of Geek.

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