#Trust me I love both Ian and Mark

[strangeshapedstone]

I’m fucking cryingggg look what I’ve just seen on Pinterest

[crepesuzette2023]

I dont think I've ever heard the take that girl seems to be about Paul, I mean, it makes sense absolutely, but can you expand some more?

Gladly, Anon.

Rob Sheffield (Dreaming the Beatles) said he thinks Girl is about Paul in this episode of @anotherkindofmindpod. The episode is actually an in-depth discussion of In My Life, but Girl came up a number of times, since it's also on Rubber Soul.

I thought Sheffield's statement was interesting, and not in a silly “John saw Paul as a girl” kind of way.

Summarizing mercilessly, and taking a few steps back before returning to Girl:

RS argues that Rubber Soul marks a moment when the Beatles’ songwriting moved from a commercial/craft perspective towards a more open/confessional/personal tone, In My Life being an example of this, with John examining his feelings for all his friends and lovers, and singling out a new kind of love that transcends the loves he’s known before. According to RS and the hosts, In My Life is not only addressed to Paul (I personally feel it could also be about Julian, or about both; as someone who writes, I really feel the “a piece of art is never about just one thing” argument)— it also, by summoning a group of dear people and openly expressing his feelings for them, emulates Paul, who, in John’s eyes, is the more extrovert and socially comfortable of the two. The song is a two-fold tribute.

Girl, still according to RS, forms a matched pair with In My Life, because it, too, concerns complex and intimate emotions; in this case being unsettled by a complex, alluring and confusing person (Paul/the girl). It's a non-generic, specific, highly personal song you wouldn't have found on earlier albums. (You Won’t See Me is Paul’s reply to John.)

Whether you agree with these interpretations or not (by the way, instead of trusting my summary, it’s probably a better idea to listen to RS and the hosts in their own words), I’m happy to see the acknowledgment of the depth of John and Paul's relationship.

RS also makes a beautiful point about If I Fell (which, as we know, John saw as a continuation of In My Life): That John and Paul, as always, tell the truth about each other by the way they sing together.

(Cue the If I Fell/marriage vows quote from Gould’s Beatles bio).

Ian Leslie (no introduction needed) was more direct in his “Hidden Gems” episode on @onesweetdreampodcast. He stated he believes that If I Fell was written for Paul, commemorating their Paris ‘honeymoon’.

And look—people are free to go as far as they want in how they interpret all this, but I personally feel it liberates and elevates the discussion of their songwriting and relationships to include the romantic love or friendship or X or [redacted] or 'tender and tempestuous' but ‘not sexual as far as we know’ relationship between John and Paul as one of its many possible inspirations.

It just feels silly to me to ignore it or act all offended at the mere suggestion.

And when RS writes in Dreaming the Beatles “For John, Paul was the boy who came to stay; for Paul, John was the song he couldn’t make better,” it just feels right.

My two cents.

P.S. When I'm inclined to accept that Girl is about Paul, I immediately want to ask follow-up questions. Because this is a song about a fraught relationship, right? In what sense did John try to leave Paul? In what sense did Paul promise him the earth and cry? I know it doesn't have to be literally true, but some extrapolation, please? This didn't happen in the episode—obviously, since its focus was another song, In My Life. PPS: I wrote this in a bit of a hurry so feel free to get back to me for clarifications, etc.

[renee-writer]

April 15th Chapter Thirty-eight

AO3

“Maybe it is just the willies.” She tries to justify. She and Mary sit by Claire’s  bed. She lays feeding Henry and John. Fergus, Quinton, and Faith had been in to see them. Faith was fascinated with ‘ her babies ‘.

 

“I have learned to trust that wifely instinct.” Mary says.

 

“It is strong. I know something has happened to Ian.” She rings her hands in her lap.

 

“There is no way to know for sure. We have to wait.” They will get a telegram. It is how His Majesty let’s them know that something has happened to their loved ones. Their neighbors mourn the death of a son, a black ribbon marks the news from the telegram.

 

“Claire is right. In the meantime, we pray.” Mary says.

 

He slowly opens his eyes, wincing at the light. Where is he? The last thing he recalled, was being in the trench next to Jamie and William. Now…

 

“Hello Lieutenant Murphy. You are in a MASH hospital recovering from an amputation. Your left leg was shattered.” He stares up at the doctor.

 

“I lost my leg?” He reaches out and finds air where his limb used to be.

 

“Yes, right above the knee. Bad luck that. With the knee, you would have better prosthetics. The good news, once you have recovered, you will be heading home.”

 

“The rest of my unit? Are they…?” Please doctor, tell me my leg is the only thing I lost?

 

“You are the only one brought in from that unit.”

 

He closes his eyes in gratitude. “Thank you.”

 

“How is your pain?”

 

“Not to bad.” It is true. There is a kind of absent feeling, like pain should be there but isn’t . At the end of his stump, there is some. It isn’t overwhelming.

 

“Very good. Holler out if it gets bad. We will have you up on crutches in a few days.”

 

“Could I have something to write with. I need to write my wife.”

 

He half sits, half lays, making his near perfect penmanship, a bit less.

 

“My darling Jenny,

 

I bring both good and bad news.

The good first. I am coming home. Not sure when, but it won’t be to long.

The bad, is the reason. I have lost my left leg. They will give me another but, as the amputation happened above my knee, I am not sure how well I will do.

It matters not. I would rather come home half a man, then not at all.

I miss you madly, my life. You and our bairns are everything to me.

Keep praying for us. As far as I know, neither William nor Jamie was injured. I will try to find out more before I come home.

All my love,

Ian.”

[thesinglesjukebox]

RM - "COME BACK TO ME"

Permission to shower?

[5.17]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: BTS' thoughtful leader, RM, is actively rejecting the aggressively populist tropes his group has traded in for the past five years or so. "Come Back To Me" is a pretty nice song! Languidly downtempo, minimally arranged, acoustically instrumented — it's a trope in and of itself how much this song slots in the playbook of the post-boy group redefinition in progress. OHHYUK's production is the dominant attribute, which is not a bad thing but perhaps not quite what one would expect from a release from a BTS member. RM's vocals kind of drift on by indistinctly — so, perhaps less of an active rejection of the boy group tropes than a meditation. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: RM takes the typical café-friendly Korean ballad and makes it "respectable," bringing on OHHYUK and Sunset Rollercoaster's frontman. The result is something closer to the former's music but with a faux-deep seriousness (a common problem with BTS solo projects). The switching between English and Korean is fun, highlighting the differences in mood between both languages, but this is a song whose relaxed mood is too manicured and labored over. RM is in the shadow of the 2017 class of KRNB artists who could do this stuff effortlessly, from Rad Museum to 2xxx to offonoff. [4]

Nortey Dowuona: Apparently Sunset Rollercoaster were in the off-hours playlist. I hope none of my fellow writers who suffered the shocking betrayal of 2022 by Lil Yachty are surprised by this. I was though, so I will close my mouth. Praise Kuo for his fantastic guitar riffs, praise OHHYUK for having the good sense to trust RM to stick to his range so the Melodyning wasn't v obvious, and condemn Tame Impala for teaching young men my age all over the world the best way to make guitar driven music is to lock it in Logic.  [10]

Michael Hong: RM assembled some of Asian indie's biggest — here, he's got Hyukoh's OHHYUK and Sunset Rollercoaster's Tseng Kuo-hung — for an album engineered to sound tasteful. The result feels like a room dressed in the soft lighting and refined fixtures meant to look stylish but never lived-in. Beyond the pleasantness, "Come Back to Me" feels like nothing: a cursory outline of feelings sluggishly pulled together into roll credits that work better closing out the album than they do as a lead single. Even in the case of the former, it still sounds uninspired. [2]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: There's a cafe that I go to in my neighborhood fairly often — I'm not a regular or anything, but I know the different baristas and their tastes. There's a set that lean towards crowdpleasers: Motown, lite-'80s pop, some of the sunnier elements of the Jason Mraz-wave of the 2000s. Some lean more toward the Boygenius-National-Bon Iver constellation, and then a few more opt for even more anonymous choices: piano covers of pop hits, lo-fi beats to study and relax to. "Come Back to Me" is one of the few songs that could slot into any of their playlists, a pleasingly blank object with just enough heavy-handed marks of artistry that it sounds bespoke. [5]

Ian Mathers: This feels almost aggressively shapeless, and I mean that as a compliment. "I forgot the hour/I don't want to know about the hour" is pretty much the mood the song both engenders and reflects, and even when it hits a kind of stumbling crescendo, there something appealingly weary and wary about it. It kind of reminds me of Jack Johnson, but for once I don't mean that as a pejorative. [7]

Katherine St. Asaph: Drifts perilously close (and the verb here truly is "drifts") toward a set of sounds I normally don't love: Post Malone, How to Dress Well, Jack Johnson, "The Lazy Song." RM alternates between barely trying to sing and trying way, way too hard. Yet while I still don't love this, I like it well enough. He sounds genuinely introspective, maybe that's why. [6]

Alfred Soto: Maybe I'd prefer it in Korean, but I suspect it would sound like Post Malone or something. [3]

TA Inskeep: So sleepy it feels as if he took some Ambien before recording. I miss the old Rap Monster of “Do You.” [3]

Will Adams: If you're willing to put up with the first two minutes of post-coital guitar noodling from your worst college hookup, you'll be rewarded with four minutes of blazed-out relaxation on a blanket on the quad after finals week is over. Your mileage will vary based on how fondly you recall your college years. [5]

Mark Sinker: Every time I had this playing while I worked – concentrating, barely even half listening probably – I was loving it, for the mood and the simplicity and the whistling; for the husky lightness at the edge of my attention. And I like that even when you point your thinking listening mind at it, it’s still not much more than a feather dodging your grasp. It doesn’t firm up or settle or clarify, quite the opposite.   [7]

Jonathan Bradley: At close to a third of the way through these six-and-a-half interminable minutes, RM allows some drums to kick into his dorm room serenade, suggesting he has Anderson .Paak's stoned beach-soul headiness in mind for "Come Back to Me," rather than a deliberate attempt to whistle his way into Jack Johnson's deck chair. "I forgot to shower," he muses, and I think he's trying to suggest there's something filthy about his attempt at funk; he does, after all, pronounce "staying good" as if he hopes listeners might hear "stank good." Get dressed, dude. Use some deodorant. [3]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[gardenerian]

below the cut is an obscenely long and somewhat convoluted discussion of ian in 4x11: 

let me start off with a couple of things: 1. ian is my favorite character on this godforsaken show. it is Very Weird how much i love that ginger buffoon. 2. as my followers know, bc i never shut up about it, i have bipolar disorder and i have been very manic and destructive in my own past. i know what is going on in ian’s brain here. i get it. but:

i am very Not Interested in all these takes that ian was not himself in 4x11, or that he had no control of his behavior. this is just. objectively not true. first, i think it is incredibly important to be very precise in our terms when we talk about ian’s bipolar. i do not think shameless does a great job of this, and it reflects in the discourse. 

there is a difference between mixed state mania, hypomania, acute mania, and delirious mania. delirious mania is marked by an inability to connect with reality and often psychosis, whereas acute mania is marked by impulsivity, heightened energy, etc. ian is moving pretty quickly in his upswing, probably beyond hypo at this point, but he is not, in clinical terms, severely manic. no-sleep-early-pancakes-demand-blowjobs-cartoon-like-smiles-chatty-pick-fights manic, but not steal-a-helicopter-or-a-baby-make-porn-hallucinate-MPs-blow-up-a-van manic. i think we have to make this distinction: ian might be operating “under the influence,” as it were, but he has not lost total control of himself.

i say this because as much as we like to (rightly) recall mickey’s agency in this situation, i think we also have to acknowledge ian’s. it irks me when people say that ian has no control over his actions here - it teeters on the edge of infantilizing to me, and it makes me pretty uncomfortable. ian makes a very deliberate choice here. 

it’s a slippery slope, but when we look at the other moments around this one, we can see that ian has not completely lost his sense of reality and he’s definitely not psychotic. in 4x09 he brings clothes for yevgeny so he’s not cold. in 4x10 he’s able to help look for fiona, and he understands the gravity of her situation. he tries to convince mickey not to go after kev. he knows right and wrong here, he understands the concept of consequences. this is complicated, of course, by his reaction to kenyatta - but it’s important to see that he can be grounded in that moment. he’s rash, impulsive, and his judgment is skewed, but he’s quickly brought down. you can even see that he’s disturbed by the way he acted. he has plenty of moments of lucidity in this season - we are meant to see the difference between this episode vs. his s5 episode. 

and i have to push back against the idea that ian is not himself here. you don’t lose your personality when you’re manic. it might feel that way. it might look that way. you might behave in ways you don’t when you are stable, but i think in many ways your motivations are still grounded somewhere deeper within you. cam had that really great interview where he talks about the importance of both portraying the disorder while also maintaining ian bc he is not totally erased by his mania. 

manic ian, like stable ian, wants to provide for mickey. what does he do? shoots a porno for quick cash. manic ian, like stable ian, wants to take care of the kids in his life. what does he do? he takes yevgeny with him when he leaves. manic ian, like stable ian, wants to protect people. what does he do? blows up a van to keep that boy from conversion. if his motivations and personality are so evident in his more delusional mania, when he has lost touch with reality, they are certainly present in a less severe manic stage. his behavior is extreme, but it’s coming from something that is inherently ian. 

i want to be very clear that i understand, trust me, that bipolar can make one behave differently. strangely. but that doesn’t mean that because you are manic, you cease being yourself. it means that the other people around you can’t see the logic behind actions that feel perfectly rational to you. taking charge of the situation in this way feels rational to ian, even though it really isn’t. he may be impulsive and reckless, he may be feeling invincible - but we know based on what we’ve seen that he’s not currently so out of control that something like this must be inevitable. again, there is a marked difference between this and later mania. when it comes to terry, he’s driven by more than just mania.

ian has always been a pusher. he pushes back when he feels like he is really being wronged. we see it in his s2 confrontation with lip. we see it in his s8 feud with fiona (he’s rising again then, but it’s not out of character for him). 

and ian is especially a pusher when it comes to mickey and terry. ian consistently demonstrates that he doesn’t really Get It when it comes to terry’s very real and very dangerous impact on mickey’s life. literally everything in 2x08, pushing mickey to admit he’s gay in the aftermath of his assault in s3, then trying to stop mickey’s wedding... the whole “you’re not free”/”what you and i have makes me free” moment is very reminiscent of “we’ve got nothing to be ashamed of”/”what world are you living in” to me. ian has kinda always believed that things will be okay through the Power of Love, and while i admire that in him sometimes, it’s just. incorrect here. 

so no, the mania does not make ian “not himself”. when i am up i am like... a caricature of myself. i am myself but bigger. more. grandiosity is another facet of mania - ian, already prone to aggressive optimism when it comes to mickey, really thinks that this is the way to go. 

here’s what i think the mania does do: it heightens ian’s personality and it gives him this sense of urgency. he’s already been thinking about their having to “hide,” despite living pretty openly at the gallagher house. ian sees terry, ian knows terry’s presence will change things, knows that mickey is “unfree”. he decides this needs to be fixed right now. 

and like. mickey knows it’s trouble for ian to be around terry. that’s why he tells ian to stay home - but ian, who has a history of pushing and literally coming into mickey’s space when it comes to terry, doesn’t listen. mickey is on edge from the start of this episode and the abject fear that is written on mickey’s face when he sees terry in the alibi is proof enough that mickey never would have come out in this moment if he didn’t feel backed into a corner. 

i’ve seen posts arguing over semantics and the use of the word ultimatum. that ian didn’t force mickey out of closet because he did not explicitly say you have to come out right now or i’ll leave. but... what does he say? he makes it pretty clear that he expects mickey to take some kind of action. 

he’s goading mickey just like he did in 3x09: “you wanna f*g bash? that make you feel like a man?... you love me and you’re gay, just admit it. just this once fucking admit it” vs. “i realized what a pussy you are... come on big guy, you think you’re a tough man? huh? you’re not, you’re a coward... you’re afraid to be who you are” and then he just? moves to walk out?

and earlier, before the big coming out, ian does tell him “you make me leave, don’t come over” so no, he doesn’t say come out immediately or we’re done... but i know we can read between the lines here yall. ian belittles mickey for not being out, implies that this is why they are over, and heads for the door. you can’t say he’s not putting immense pressure on mickey to act- and to do it quickly. again, the sense of urgency cannot be understated. ian wants this fixed now. 

i don’t want to remove mickey’s agency here. many have argued, and i would agree, that this was mickey’s season to come out. i think he would have soon - but ian didn’t really give him a chance to do it on his terms. you cannot look at mickey’s history with terry and try to say that this was ever something mickey would have chosen to do without influence - without fear of losing ian again. we can argue in circles over whether he intended mickey to come out right that second or not, but the fact of the matter is that ian did push mickey into action. and it was wrong! no one should ever feel like they have to come out in order to be worth it. 

not saying at all that ian wasn’t within his rights to leave if he wanted. but if he didn’t expect something of mickey, he could have just left. his mental state might have raised the aggression of the moment, but again, this is not new for him (3x09). he could have left the taunts and the insults out of it. but he wanted a reaction. and yeah, mickey could have just let ian walk out the door - maybe they could have come to some understanding later. but ian has done a lot, quickly, after not getting what he wanted/needed out of mickey before. 

i say all this with love for ian. i love him and i feel his struggle very keenly. but he was wrong here. full stop. this was wrong and i do not think it can be totally explained away by his disorder, though it perhaps influenced the immediacy of it. this is not out of character for ian -  i think something like this was always going to come from him, manic or not. but ian chose this moment to make this stand and that was just Not Okay. two things can be true at once. ian can be manic - and! he can have a history of pushing too hard. he can take it too far. these things compounded to make a hellish decision for mickey. 

it turned out alright for mickey. he chose to say the words, but what kind of choice was that really? he was probably glad to be out in the long run. free. a huge part of that had to do with terry immediately going back to jail, but i do think we see a lightness in him at the start of 4x12 that comes from being out. BUT. he should have been able to do it without the loss of ian hanging over his head. 

i am not saying that ian’s mental state does not play a role in what happens at the alibi. of course it does. i’m just saying that it doesn’t exonerate him - that this is something that cannot be explained away by bipolar. that sometimes mania exposes an ugliness that already existed within you. that ian was the decisive factor in mickey coming out that night. i’m proud of mickey for that moment. but i fucking hate that he felt he had to do it like that. 

thank you for coming to my insane talk. 

[pinkchanelbag]

hi nia! congratulations for the 1k! i got the emperor :o may i request uncooperative school project partner with armin? but!! my card is reverse <//3 could you make it a little bit angst but with fluff ending? thank you so much!

THE REVERSED EMPEROR — ARMIN + UNCOOPERATIVE PROJECT PARTNER.

the universe really is unfair. 

it must be, you think as you push open the library doors. otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. 

it doesn’t take much looking around to spot the head of blond hair at one of the tables most visible in the seating area. you have to hold back a scoff—typical. typical armin arlert to sit in a public space the same way he would in a classroom: like he was being graded. 

your psychology class term project turned out to be nothing like you expected. you were relying on some paper or essay that you were confident would boost your grade. you know you’re good at that sort of thing. you didn’t expect your professor to throw you completely by turning it into a research-based debate where your grade was determined by how well you went up against your project partner. and of course, of course you had to be paired with the pain in your ass, armin. 

the thing is that the class is competitive by nature. the top student earns a spot in a much sought out internship, and for the past three months, you and armin have been dancing around the top score in the class. he always manages to be just a nose ahead of you, and it’s because of that fake, peppy, nice guy attitude that you can’t bring yourself to put on just for a mark. typical. 

when you reluctantly round the table and into his vision, his glasses-clad eyes leave his laptop and smile at you.

“y/n! hey, glad you made it.” 

you only offer a smile before unceremoniously dropping your bookbag in the seat next to the one you’ve pushed yourself into. 

from the peak you took of his screen, you can see he’s already begun research debate topics. of course he’s already deep in it this early in the morning. 

that’s why you can’t help but narrow your eyes when rather than getting straight to the work, the blue eyed boy takes a look at his homescreen for the time before looking back at you.

“have you eaten?” he asks. you offer a questioning huh? 

“have you had breakfast? there’s a little coffee shop down this hall—we can grab something before we get started?” 

it takes more effort than you care to use to keep the suspicious look off your face. you want to say no, get it over with, but you really are fiending for some coffee. you stayed up finishing a response paper for another class while also editing your friend sasha’s essay. your eyes barely have the energy to maintain their own grumpy expression. 

“sure,” are your first words to him that morning. they’re injected with the softness of your own attempt to drop your hackles. bane of your existence or not, the guy is just asking for coffee.

you correct yourself soon after—offering you coffee. you stand with lips parted and your debit card in hand as armin pays for both your drinks, plus the little snacks he’s added on. 

“you didn’t have to...” you begin. he looks back at you with a blinking face as if he doesn’t understand.

“oh, it’s fine.” and that’s the only explanation he gives before he turns back to take the receipt. and then he’s carrying the two coffees plus the paper bag of food back to your seats himself, and it’s strange that you should be the direct target of his too-niceness. it unnerves you, irks you. every time you inhale to say something and you catch his attention, and he turns to you with that expectant face and small smile like he’s clueless. like he’s clueless of his own facade. how annoying.

it’s a few a hours in, some time in the afternoon when you pause to rub at your eyes, that you entertain the thought. you watch his eyes scan his laptop screen with furrowed brows, his glasses slipping a little down his face. is it a facade? 

no one could be that nice. especially with his course load, and you know it’s heavy. he should be decomposing with stress. but he’s sitting here like it’s the easiest thing in the world. no, that’s not quite right. he is struggling. he yawns and rubs his temples and slumps back in his seat and messes up his sentences from burnout. it’s not that it’s easy—it’s that he doesn’t care that it’s hard. 

how annoying. 

+ + + + +

you can’t see anything but red. 

when your professor dismisses you and armin from the class following the long awaited debate, you’re fuming so hard you nearly slam the door before armin can sneak out of it behind you. 

“wha—” armin begins.

“you went easy on me.” the accusation slices through the empty air of the hallway. you whip around to look at him. his glasses are tucked into his hair. his dress shirt is tucked into his blue jeans, book bag thrown on in a hassle to leave the room with you, and his crewneck in a pile in his two hands. you wish he didn’t look so put together all the time. you wish he wasn’t always so nice and proper and handsome looking.

“you literally skipped an entire key rebuttal. what the hell are you playing at, arlert? do you think i can’t hold my own? do you think that i need you to make my life easier like you do for everyone else? i’m not a charity, and if i lose this thing then i’ll have my peace with that more than i would if you gave it t—”

“i didn’t go easy!” armin cuts through your words. his voice is raised and firm, which is the main reason you’re actually brought to silence despite your anger. he grips his crewneck in one hand and stands tall, and he’s earnest in a way you’re not used to. “i know you would never be okay with that. and i want you to get this internship, i think you deserve it, but...i want it too. and i want us to be able to work well and do our best so that regardless of who gets it, we know we did well. that’s why i asked to w—” 

and then his face stills. 

“you asked to what?” you push. red creeps up into armin’s cheeks, and he huffs before continuing slowly. 

“...i asked to work with you. i told the prof i didn’t want it to be anyone else since i’d beat anyone, and because...i wanted you. i wanted to work with you, and against you. i told him i knew it would challenge me.”

he trails off into quiet and stares at the linoleum floors while you mull over his words. challenge him? from your end, it constantly feels like the blonde is dangling your prize just out of your grasp with the way he manages to be so kind, so comforting even when pushing himself to his one hundred. but it’s true for you too that any other person you’d be paired with you’d beat. if anything, the professor would’ve likely made the decision to pair the two of you himself if armin didn’t say anything. but he did say something. 

“speak for yourself,” you huff. you cross arms against your chest defensively and kick at the floor, now also staring at it. “i would’ve loved to kill some little wimp in the debate and get my A easy.” 

he’s looking at you now. you chance a glance, and that small smile, that small clueless smile that has no idea how kind he really is, is beaming at you again.

“couldn’t let you off that easy,” he says. “but trust that i’ll never give you anything less than a fair fight. deal?” he holds up a hand for you to shake, and you look at him for a few more moments, then at his hand, before unravelling your crossed arms to seal his proposal. 

“deal.”

neither of you lets your hand drop as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“wanna get lunch?” he asks.

“we don’t have any more work to do.”

“i know.” 

and you accept. and armin tells himself that at some point in the lunch (date?) he’ll admit to you that he missed that rebuttal point because he had zoned out on the way your lips move when you speak. 

note: wait i really like this omg....anyway iane I LOVE YOU <3 ENJOY <3

NIA’S 999 EVENT. 

[liusaidh-writing]

Call it True - Chapter 3

[Prefer AO3?]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Here is Chapter 3! I am sorry it’s so late. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy. Chapter Four is on its way soon, too!

*****************************

Claire and Jamie exchanged texts and phone calls in the following days and nights. Unable to connect in person, they did what they could to remain close. Claire's night shifts ended after a week, and she was relieved to be back in the world of daylight once again. She also hoped this meant she and Jamie could get together again. And soon. 

I'm free! Well, until my time rolls around again, anyway. Next two days off, and not a single thing planned!

She hit send with a grin and imagined what she and Jamie might do on her time off. Go to dinner? Watch a movie, preferably curled up on a couch. What movies did he like? She started compiling a list of possible options while she rode along in Lesley's car after her final night shift had ended in the early morning hours. They’d picked up a grumbly Harry at the sitters before heading to Claire’s flat.

Lesley, in the driver's seat, reached back to grab Harry's snack cup before it was flung to the floor by a frustrated toddler.  The car swerved slightly as she turned back in her seat, causing Claire to gasp before Lesley set it right again. 

Lesley thrust the snack cup at Claire, snapping, "Did you not hear me? I was asking you to grab it from him! Where's your mind been these last few days, anyway?" 

Claire grasped the cup in her hands, dropping the phone in her lap. "Sorry! I just...didn't hear you! I’d rather the snack cup take the hit next time instead of us!" 

"You're sitting right next to me, and unless you've gone deaf in the last ten minutes, you're just not paying attention," Lesley said in a sing-songy voice, ignoring Claire’s comment regarding her driving, but making an obvious effort to keep her tone light. She sighed, flipping the wipers on to clear the windshield of mist. It was annoyingly rainy, only a mere drizzle, but oddly cold for a spring morning. "Feels like winter outside, does it not," she remarked, attempting to change the subject.  

"Yep...pretty cold." 

Claire's mind wandered back to Jamie in the sweater he'd worn on their date. It had looked so cozy, and Claire wondered how it would feel on her. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself back to the present.

"So, you had been telling me earlier about...custody?" 

Lesley sighed, grudgingly answering Claire's question. 

"Yes...I told you everything, but you were off in lala land half the time. Not surprised you don't remember. If you're here with me now, I'll tell you again."

"Yes, please, I'm really listening." Claire shoved her phone between her leg and the seat, hoping that having it out of sight would help her stay focused on what her friend was saying. 

"Well, Frank has decided he wants full custody of Harry. Make me some kind of weekend Mum." Lesley gritted her teeth thinking about the very idea of it. "Like he's capable of taking him on full time," she said, gesturing at Harry in the back, who'd fallen asleep. “He wouldn’t last an hour before he was calling me, begging for help.”

"He doesn't have grounds, surely! He can't just...make stuff up!" Claire was indignant, knowing how great of a mother Lesley was, and how perfectly lousy Frank was at everything from keeping Harry fed when he had him to keeping promises to Lesley about drop off times. 

Lesley shook her head and rested her left elbow on the car door as they sat at a stoplight. "It's absolutely insane. He thinks because he makes more money that he should have Harry. That my schedule at the hospital isn't 'suitable for a toddler.’  He's just making sure I waste my money on legal fees fighting him instead of spending it on taking care of Harry so I'll look bad," she finished, glancing at Claire with an incredulous expression. 

"Well, you know I'll do anything to help, Lesley!" 

They had reached Claire's building, and as Claire got out she reached back and lightly ruffled Harry's hair, giving Lesley a smile and thanked her for the ride. She grabbed her things and headed to her door, feeling her phone signal that she had a text message as she walked. She quickly unlocked her door, slung them to the floor and hungrily unlocked her phone to see a message from Jamie waiting to be read.

Good to hear, Sassenach. I suppose you’ll need to go home and sleep. How about I come by later this evening? 

Claire quickly sent a reply and beamed at...well, no-one. She locked her door and dreamily waltzed to the shower, eager to strip off her scrubs and wash the night away.

“Jamie and I are hanging out tonight!” she squealed, raising her arms in victory over her head. She gave a little twirl as she moved past her bedroom. Taking off her top, she flung it on her bed. Claire felt like a teenager - she was sure her cheeks were pink and her mind raced with all the possibilities of the evening. She nearly replied to Jamie that she didn’t need to sleep, but...that wasn’t true. She was dead on her feet and her shift last night had been especially brutal with several stressful patients. She sighed,  realizing she deeply regretted not having made the effort to really meet Jamie earlier. Why had she wasted so much time? Now that they were friendly, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.  Lesley hadn’t been wrong when she’d said Claire had been in la-la land. She reminded herself to thank Lesley for saving her ass more than once at work in the past week. If it wasn’t Jamie’s calls or texts, it was her own imagination getting her in trouble. Over the phone, Jamie had told her all about his family, his nieces and nephews and sister. He had a best friend named Ian, who happened to be his brother-in-law. And a father he clearly cared a lot about. Claire had never known that sort of reality, growing up as she had. She revelled in Jamie’s stories of his boyhood, clinging to bits of him that he unknowingly exposed.

For instance, Claire was sure that Jamie was secretly in love with his father’s farm, though he had claimed he didn’t care to run things when the time came, that he’d gotten his flat in the city to escape that reality. He talked of it with such pride, and Claire wondered why he didn’t live there full time, as much as he was there. It held fond memories of his mother, and it was his connection to his extended family, and she knew family meant a lot to him. 

She couldn’t exactly relate - though she had loved her uncle a great deal - but it was almost surreal hearing about hectic holidays or birthday celebrations Jamie got to experience growing up. Claire was rather envious at times.  Her holidays usually involved Uncle Lamb flat-out forgetting them, and though he always remembered her birthday, he wasn’t the greatest at remembering to mark the date in any meaningful way other than a sweet ‘Happy Birthday, darling,’ and a pat on the cheek.  She quickly made a mental note to ask Jamie about his birthday sometime. 

Pulling back the shower curtain, she sighed as the steamy hot water washed away the night at the hospital; it succeeded in making her drowsy enough to fall quickly asleep. 

---

Claire woke to a rather loud knock at her door. She rolled out of bed, hair all akimbo, eyes squinting as she opened her room darkening curtains. Padding towards the door, she quickly wrapped herself in the throw from the couch before turning the knob. There stood Jamie, a slight smile on his face that immediately fell when he caught sight of her. 

"Oh God--" 

"I'm sorry--" 

They both spoke at the same time, Claire wrapping the blanket more securely around her shoulders.  She had shorts and a small tee-shirt on, but no bra.  She began to speak again, wondering if she looked as horrible as she feared. Jamie grimaced and took a breath. 

"I am so sorry, I didn't wake you did I?" 

"Oh, no. It's fine, really! I must look frightening..." Claire carefully took one arm out of her wrap and tried to smooth her hair in an attempt to calm her curls. 

 "NO! You look...stunning!"  His eyes were wide, as though he’d seen a ghost.

 "Oh, God no.  Would you like to...?" 

She gestured him inside, and quickly caught that he was holding a few things in his hands.  A wad of blankets and a small thermal lunch bag were clutched in his arms as he shuffled inside. 

"Let me just...go change. Have a seat, will you?" She moved towards her bedroom as she watched Jamie sit on her sofa, placing his things on the cushion beside him. 

She closed her bedroom door, tossed the throw on her bed and leaned heavily against the door, her head making a distinct thumping sound as it hit. "Ow..." she muttered.  "Hope he didn't hear that..." 

She was jittery and her mouth was dry. He had that effect on her - one she couldn't put into words.  Her stomach was consumed by a swarm of butterflies as she got dressed, brushing her teeth and washing her face. She raised her arms over her head checking her armpits for odor, and swiped on some deodorant, finishing with a quick spray of her favorite perfume with a flourish. She didn’t dare go back out there smelling like a hospital. She wasn’t entirely trusting of the shower she’d taken.

Taking a few deep, but not-so-calming breaths, she went back out to her living room, where Jamie waited patiently, thumbing through a magazine on her coffee table. 

“I’m all for color in a room, but this shade of green makes me think of vomit.” Jamie was pointing at a photo of a painted room in some home decor article, curling his lip up in disgust at said shade of green.

He smiled at Claire, dropping the magazine and taking her in slowly, his eyes large and bright. 

Claire looked down at her outfit - Jeans and a warm, deep red top. She’d been told it ‘brought out her eyes’, whatever the hell that meant, so she figured it was a good choice. She smoothed her shirt down and gestured at the magazine.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that - I asked if I could paint when I moved in and was told no. Can’t wait to be able to live somewhere without blank white walls.” She waved haphazardly around the room, devoid of artwork, save for several of her own photos from various trips, and a few of Uncle Lamb, of course.

“It’s good to see you again, Claire.” Jamie stood up, moving towards her with his hand out. She wasn’t sure what he was going for, so she moved with him, meeting him in the middle. He clasped her hand in his, and they both paused for a moment, Claire watching his eyes dance as he gazed at her. He gave a small smile with one corner of his mouth, and quickly kissed her cheek. 

“It’s good to see you again, too,” Claire sighed, her breath coming out in spurts. She felt him relinquish her hand, and she glanced at it, half expecting it to be bright red the way it radiated his lingering warmth. He stepped back just a bit, and gestured to the items he’d brought with him.

“It’s a little wet outside, but there’s a free concert at the park. Would you like to come? If you don’t want to sit on the ground, I have chairs.” He raked a hand through his hair and tapped the fingers of his right hand against his thigh. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

Jamie’s voice was shaky with nerves, and Claire quickly tried to put him at ease.

“I don’t mind the ground!” She figured Jamie could offer her spikes to sit on and she’d accept them if that meant he’d be there, too. “Let’s go, it’ll be fun!” 

Jamie nodded, picking up the blanket and lunch bag. “Brought some goodies for us to snack on, too.” 

“Oh, good. I’m starving! Haven’t eaten all day!” 

Claire grabbed her purse as they walked to the door together, slinging it over her shoulder and grabbing her keys from the counter. She didn’t know what kind of music would be playing at this concert, but she didn’t care in the slightest. She was also rather eager to find out what was in that lunch bag. Her stomach gurgled, and she made a face as Jamie hid a smile.

He took her hand again, pulling her toward the door and out into the damp night. It was about 7 in the evening, and though the days were getting longer, the rain clouds obscured any remaining sunlight. 

-----

Having picked the driest bit of ground he could, Jamie spread out one warm wool blanket, gesturing for Claire to take a seat while he unfolded the other one. It was as large as the one they sat on, and doubly thick. Claire shivered slightly as she watched him swirl the blanket around her shoulders. He sat down next to her - quite closely, so she could feel the heat coming off him, and he wrapped the other half of the blanket around his own shoulders, meeting the two ends in the middle between them. It was cozy, and the band had just started. She looked around, wishing they weren’t surrounded by other people at the moment. Claire looked at Jamie - who had been casually checking out the band. He glanced at her, then reached for the lunch bag.

“What do you have for us?” Claire’s stomach growled again, and Jamie chuckled as he unzipped the bag while Claire held the blanket in place. 

“Erm...not much. Some crackers, cheese, grapes. A small bag of chips, if you’re in the mood for junk food?” He held the chips out to her and she hungrily ripped it open, popping one in her mouth with a satisfied grin. 

“Mmmm...so good. I’ve not had anything to eat since about 6 this morning. I forgot to eat when I got home from work.” Because you texted me, she added in her head, and I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep quickly so I could see you. 

Jamie went for a few grapes, munching them as he watched her devour the chips. She offered him one, holding it up to his mouth. 

“Have one!” she exclaimed, wiggling it in front of him.

He went for it, and she quickly pulled it away. She laughed as he pursed his lips in mock irritation. “Give me that,” he said, pulling her hand towards his mouth again, taking the chip between his teeth. His lips slightly brushed Claire’s finger tips, and a shiver traveled through her body as they laughed together. 

Their bodies were touching entirely now, from shoulder to toes, and Claire didn’t want to be anywhere else. She leaned against him, and he let her put her weight against his chest as he held the blanket with his left hand. His right arm wrapped around her waist. Claire felt flush, slightly feverish, silently basking in his glow. The rain was cold, the ground was colder, but she wouldn’t have known it with Jamie securely keeping them both comfortably warm.  

The band played on, the bass pulsing through her. She didn’t know the songs, but nodded her head with the beat periodically. For all the sound, though, her mind was somewhere else entirely. She wanted nothing more than to turn around, place her lips on his, and fall into him. She glanced at the people around her again, most of them chit-chatting, drinking, or eating. She felt him squirm slightly, and glanced back at him as best she could in her position. She felt his arm leave her side, make its way up her arm to her shoulder, and then into her hair. He played with her curls as he stretched one long leg out in front of them, where his boot got wet with rain. Claire’s hands were in her lap - she was entirely unsure what she should do with them, so she clutched her middle as the swarm of butterflies (more like angry hornets, if she was honest with herself) engulfed her middle. Her eyes fluttered closed as Jamie continued twirling her curls around his finger.

“Hey, Sassenach, are you thirsty? I could go get us some drinks at the food cart?” Jamie gestured with his head, back behind them where beer and soda was sold at an exorbitant price. 

Claire turned slightly and looked at him, his brows raised in question.

She took a breath, swallowing all her fear and uncertainty. The hornets in her stomach faded to a dull ache as she turned some more, raising her hands to his face.  She’d caught him off guard, and as her lips enveloped his own, he was still for a split second before deepening the kiss with his hand still in her hair, clutching her curls now, tugging slightly. Claire breathed in deeply, the noises of the band and people around them fading into oblivion, a fuzzy mirage at the corner of her vision as she closed her eyes, unwilling to break their connection. His tongue danced with hers briefly before he pulled away. Claire, with her eyes still closed, felt him rubbing her cheek with his thumb. 

“Oi, if we wanted to see that, we’d have gone to see a movie!” 

Claire’s eyes snapped open, her head whirling around to her right searching for the person that matched the voice. A young teenage boy smirked in their direction, sniggering a bit as she eyed him. He held a full pint of beer in one hand, and cocked his head, daring her to say something in return.

“He’ll break up with ya tomorrow,” the boy said, laughing with his mates, one of them slapping him on the shoulder in congratulations for his stupendous observation. Claire’s brow knit in confusion.

“Why don’t you-” she was cut off by Jamie, who stood up quickly, pulling the blanket that was around them up into a ball. He put it down, and stretched his arms over his head, making himself appear even larger. The kid with the beer blanched, spilling a bit in his lap as he involuntarily jerked away at Jamie’s stone cold glare. 

“Come on, Sassenach. Let’s go…” He gathered up the lunch bag, and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her up. She was shivering now, his warmth having left her. She moved so he could pick up the other blanket, and they slowly picked their way through the crowd. 

Claire was surprised to feel her chin trembling a bit. Was she going to...cry? God, not now, she thought. How silly. It had just been a kid trying to stir up trouble for a laugh. It wasn’t funny, though, Claire thought angrily. It made her feel ashamed, but for what? She’d simply kissed Jamie. She held her breath for a moment, as she wondered if Jamie had minded that she’d done that - in the middle of the park, surrounded by people. She let her breath out again as she felt him grab her elbow and tug her closer. Perhaps he hadn’t minded afterall. He wasn’t making excuses to leave, anyway, she thought with some relief. 

She felt Jamie put her hand through the crook of his elbow as he guided her back towards their building. She still shivered, and Jamie pulled her in, their shoes meeting the pavement in unison. 

“Don’t worry about him, Sassenach.” 

Claire looked up when he spoke, gave a small smile, and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

“It’s ok…” she mumbled, wondering what the rest of the night would hold. She’d be up all night now, and didn’t particularly want her time with Jamie to come to an end. 

“How about we get that full meal in you? You must still be hungry,” Jamie offered. “Let me drop these things by my flat and we’ll go, yeah?” 

Claire nodded. “Sounds good, Jamie.” 

[a-singleboat]

Green-Eyed Valentine

Word Count: 1.7k

Request: Hey! I really liked what you did with my last request, so I was wondering if you could do one where Damien (or Shayne) get jealous because reader gets a valentine's day gift from someone else, please? - @lula132

A/N: We’re getting into all those Shayne requests!

Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating, swearing

Valentine’s Day. Objectively the worst holiday in your eyes. On top of still having to go to work, it’s only really socially acceptable to give another person a box of chocolates as a gift. Where was the variety? The flavor? 

Additionally, you and your long-term boyfriend, Shayne, had decided to forego gifts that year in favor of saving up for a house together. That meant birthdays, Christmas, and yes, Valentine’s Day gifts, were off the table because you both spend an outrageous amount of money on each other each year. So imagine your surprise upon seeing a gift neatly wrapped in the same red gift wrap the two of you had in your apartment sitting on your desk early Valentine’s Day morning. 

“I thought we agreed on no gifts, Shayne.” You picked up the wrapped item, turning it over in search of a tag. When you found there was none, it only made you more suspicious of your boyfriend. 

“That wasn’t me,” he said, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you fiddle with a loose piece of wrapping paper on the side. While he recognized the wrapping paper, he was one-hundred percent sure that he hadn’t bought you anything. You could check his bank statement if you didn’t believe him. 

“Yeah, I’m sure thousands of people have that exact same wrapping paper,” Courtney chimed in. You had no idea where she had come from but judging by the still-steaming coffee in her hands, you were willing to bet from the office kitchen. “I’m pretty sure Ian has that wrapping paper, too.” 

You blinked, unsure on how to process that information. “So you think Ian got me a Valentine’s Day gift?” 

“Why would Ian--?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Courtney cut Shayne off with a laugh, settling her coffee on your desk. She took the gift from your hands, smoothing back the bit of wrapping paper you had been playing with. “I’m just making a point. This could have been literally anyone in the office.”

You gave her a smirk. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Uh, a who-dunnit in which we figure out who put this present there?”

Shayne looked a little more than peeved at that. “And when you find out who left the gift there, you can tell them that you’re in a loving relationship and have been for the past eight years.” 

You pinched his cheeks, making kissy faces at your boyfriend. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to tell them that my incredibly handsome, loving, and amazing boyfriend didn’t appreciate their gift, bubba.”

Shayne’s cheeks reddened at the nickname, eyes rolling as you leaned in to pepper his face in butterfly kisses. He could be as jealous or as grumpy as he wanted but as long as he knew you were his, all was well. You trusted him and you were sure as hell that he trusted you as well. 

“Go find out who sent you the gift.” He moved his face out of range of your constant kisses, taking one of your hands in his and pressing a soft kiss of his own to your knuckles to let you know he wasn’t mad. “And don’t call me bubba at work, that’s reserved for home and home only.” 

With a laugh, you agreed. The nickname ‘bubba’ would stay home from thereon out. You turned to Courtney, who had taken to shaking the box in an attempt to figure out what was inside. The item rattled slightly, most likely having been swaddled tightly by tissue paper within the cardboard casing. 

“It sounds like pottery,” Courtney deduced, giving it another firm shake. The rattling, similar to the sound of a metal spoon hitting the side of a ceramic bowl, made you wary of the way your friend was manhandling the gift. 

“Maybe someone left it here on accident and it’s not actually for me,” you suggested. “After all, there’s no note or anything. I think even if it was from a secret admirer--which it’s not--” you gave Shayne a pointed look-- “I still think there’d be a note of some kind.” 

“But we still can’t strike one out,” Courtney pointed out, setting the box down. The shiny red paper sparkled under the shitty office lights, the glitter already wearing off on, well, everything. “Okay, maybe if we start by eliminating people in the office we’ll find who the gift came from faster.”

“Good idea,” you said, pulling out a spare sheet of paper from your desk. Your fingers sought out a pen, yanking the cap off with your teeth. Quickly, you scribbled down the names of all the coworkers you can into regular contact with“So we already know it’s not from Shayne or you--that’s two people down already. And despite the fact that Ian also has this same wrapping paper, I really don’t think he would have left this for you.” 

“Okay that’s three people down,” you crossed the names out, marking a heart next to Shayne’s name. You flipped the paper over, showing him the little heart you’d drawn. He frowned but caught the kiss you blew his way anyhow. 

“Here’s an idea,” Shayne said, rolling his chair closer to you. Courtney took a noisy sip of her iced coffee, looking between the two of you like a tennis match. “Maybe, someone accidentally left it on your desk. Like any second now, someone’s gonna come by looking for that thing.”

You glanced at the neatly wrapped box, a little battered from Courtney’s thorough examination. It was possible that it wasn’t supposed to be meant for you. It was half-on-half-off your desk originally, the original cart it had shared had been pushed away by now, moved to the other side of the room. 

You pulled the box toward you, running your finger along the middle and feeling for the sticky residue that would be a tell-tale sign of the tape that had once been there. Once you found it, you tapped the pad of your finger a few times watching as the paper clung to your skin before separating. 

“The label’s fallen off,” you voiced your observation, looking around the floor for it. “If we find that, we’ll find who this was addressed to and who sent this in the first place.”

Courtney immediately set her drink down, getting on her hands and knees in search of the label. You set the box back down on your desk and got on your hands and knees as well, tying your hair out of your line of sight. You pushed Shayne away, laughing as he rolled back a bit further than you thought he would. 

“Do you see it?” you asked, using your phone’s flashlight to look in the dark shadows under your desk. You squinted as the flashlight caught on something shiny, frowning when you saw that it was only a scrap piece of laminate. You picked it up anyways, disposing of it correctly and sitting back on your heels. 

Courtney’s arm was halfway under your desk on the other end, reaching for something. You watched as she extracted a thin piece of cardstock. She waved the paper around, blowing off the bit of dust clinging to the corner. 

“To, Jessica… who’s Jessica?” 

You crowded over her shoulder to read the label. “I have no clue who Jessica is, but if we know the sender we can get it back to them.”

She unfolded the paper a bit more. “From… Ian? Is Ian dating?”

“This is way more exciting than me having a secret admirer, oh my God!” You took the label from Courtney, taping the label back down onto the box. “We should really get this back to Ian though.” 

Courtney took the box from you, subtly glancing over your shoulder at your still-pouting boyfriend. He was trying to be sneaky, looking over at the two of you when he thought you weren’t looking. You rolled your eyes, laughing as you realized what was happening. 

“He’ll get over it,” you said. “He’s just a little embarrassed. I’ll talk to him.”

Courtney nodded, wishing you luck. 

You turned on your heel, looking at your ridiculous boyfriend and giving him a smile. You chuckled, sitting in your seat and sliding over to him and forcing his seat to spin so that you could slot your knees between his. You took his hands in yours, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. Instantly, he relaxed, unclenching his fists and lowering his shoulders. 

“You know that you have nothing to be afraid of, right? I love you and only you,” you reassured him. “Ten years and counting, remember?” 

You pressed another kiss to his knuckles. This was nothing new, the extremely light PDA at work. Everyone had gotten used to the two of you by now, not caring as long as you weren’t fucking on the desks. 

“Yeah,” he said, distracted. His thumb traced over where your ring finger met your palm. It wasn’t difficult for you to guess what he was thinking about. You waited for him to say the words, which you would inevitably reject. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry him because you did. It was just that growing up around parents that fought all the time made you wary of the idea of marriage. At the beginning, your parents had been the most in-love people you’d ever known but as the years drug on, you watched as their “love” disappeared into booze for your mom and other women for your dad. 

But sitting here in the office setting, as mundane and most likely cliches as it sounded, you wouldn’t hate the idea of marrying him. He reminded you of everything your parents weren’t and he managed to remind you every day that the two of you were not your parents and never would be, though the fear lingered. 

“You’ve got work to do, lover boy,” you teased, pressing one last kiss to his knuckles. “And I have a video of your dorky ass to edit.” 

Shayne sighed so lightly that if the printer had been running copies you would have missed it. But he let you get back to work, this wasn’t the time or place for that kind of conversation. 

“I love you,” you reminded him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I love you, too.”

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[tirednerd2012]

Barley learns Ian is missing

WARNING: Drew kind of makes an appearance? This one is going to focus on Barley fighting his own mind.

Barley didn’t really know what was going on. He remembered hearing Ian telling him everything was okay, two other voices, then a bunch of others. Now, it was silence. And he was trapped in this hellish nightmare.

Drew was with him. They were in the same cabin Barley killed him in.

“Well, you just know how to fuck everything up, don’t you?” Drew said, as he sat across from him. For some reason, Barley didn’t necessarily feel afraid. Not of his insane ex-boyfriend at least.

“You’re dead. I killed you,” Barley responded.

“Yeah? And Kirk has your little brother,” he said. “Too bad you can’t wake up and do something about it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Barley demanded.

“You don’t remember anything? Typical,” Drew sneered. “You were shot protecting the little shit.”

“Watch what you say about him,” Barley snapped. “Okay, then why are you here?”

“Only you know the answer to that, Bar,” he answered, indifferently. Barley went to argue more when Ian’s voice ripped through the air, but his little brother was nowhere in sight.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mistake, Barley. I wish I was never born,” the voice said and a sting of hurt and regret hit Barley. Ian couldn’t possibly mean that, could he?

“You know, he is a good kid. Such a shame what’s going to happen,” Drew said. “He doesn’t stand a chance against Kirk.”

“Can you just leave? I have to wake up,” Barley snapped.

“Good luck with that. Your body really took a hit when you took that bullet for Ian,” Drew said as he brought out a cigarette and lit it. Barley hated when his ex smoked even when they were together.

“I never should have been with you. You’re the one that showed Ian to Kirk and caused this whole mess,” Barley said bitterly.

“Yeah, blaming me is just what you need, right?” Drew said in return. He took a long puff and sighed. “You’re the one that is still holding on to me. I mean, this is your mind and I’m here, why is that?”

“You put me through hell and you’re wondering why I’m still trying to forget about it. You tried to kill me, and before that you abused me for months. I couldn’t even bring you around my family because I was so scared about what you were going to do to them. And then you went after Ian. You tortured him and kidnapped him to get to me. And then I-I killed you.”

“That’s in the past, Barley. You still have something to worry about. If you can handle me, why can’t you face Kirk? He’s just playing you right now. Sad, really,” Drew said.

“You’re not real.”

“You’re right. I’m not, but he is. And you need to wake up.”

“I’m trying,” Barley snapped.

“You need to face your past if you’re going to be able to face your future. And you’re running out of time.”

“What are you talking about, running out of time?”

Ian’s voice came again.

“Fine, I’ll go with you. Just get that gun away from him.”

“What’s happening?” Barley demanded.

“Ian is going with Kirk as we speak.”

“Why can’t I wake up? I need to wake up and stop this!” Barley said, desperately. Ian was going with Kirk? Willingly? Did he forget their conversation? He didn’t need to worry about Barley’s safety. He needed to keep himself safe. That’s all that mattered.

“Even if you woke up right now, you can’t save Ian. You’re in no condition, Barley,” Drew responded with indifference in his voice. “Right now, you need to face everything you’ve been putting off.”

“No, I need to get to Ian.”

“You won’t be able to save him if you aren’t in the condition to save him.”

“And why the hell should I trust you?”

“Because what other choice do you have?” Drew asked. They disappeared from the cabin to a hospital room. Barley looked over and saw himself as a small child. He immediately knew where he was. This was the day his father died.

“I faced this. I said goodbye,” Barley said, his voice tensing and he balled his fist at the side.

“Just keep walking. We need to find the door that will wake you up,” Drew said. Barley glared, but nodded as the two walked past his father’s hospital bed. He would never forget his dad connected to the machines and tubes. He didn’t look like himself. Barley hated to admit it, but seeing it face to face again brought back the same fear he hadn’t felt since he was a small child.

He found a door and walked through it. The day Ian was born. His mom was dozing off in the hospital bed beside him, and Ian was in his arms. A nurse was watching over him, knowing that after giving birth by herself, Laurel was exhausted.

“It’s okay, Ian. My name is Barley. I’m your big brother. I’m going to take good care of you, I promise,” Barley told the infant. Ian looked up at him and laughed, then brought his hand out and touched Barley’s chin. And for the first time since his father died, Barley felt true happiness.

The wave of nostalgia hit Barley as he continued to make his way through his memories. Some were amazing. Teaching Ian how to ride a bike, helping him with his homework, cuddling with his mom when he was a kid. Others were awful. When him and Ian were being bullied. When his mom came home from work exhausted. When Laurel and Colt started dating and Barley felt betrayed.

Then, at the end of one memory, was a door that was glowing. But Barley stopped when he saw Drew again, but not the one directly beside him. This is when they were getting into a fight while they were still dating.

“You worthless trash. You really don’t trust me anymore? I’m your boyfriend!” Drew snapped at him.

“I don’t trust you around Ian or my mom, no, because lately, I don’t even know who you are,” Barley shot back. It ended in a physical fight and the scene changed from Drew’s house to Barley’s bedroom. There was a knock on the door. Ian.

“Hey, Barley, are you okay? You haven’t really said anything since you got home,” he said as he opened and shut the door behind him. He sat beside his older brother on the bed and noticed the bruise on his arm and the marks on his wrists.

“It’s nothing. Drew and I got into a disagreement.”

“Did he do this?” Ian asked, pointing to Barley’s injuries. A fire lit up in his little brother’s eyes and Barley knew, even then, Ian wanted to kill someone at the idea of Barley getting hurt.

“Don’t worry about it, little brother. I’m just really tired,” Barley said and, to distract Ian and also because he deeply needed it, pulled Ian into a tight hug. “I’m going to get some sleep. I love you, okay?”

“I love you, too, but Barley, come on, you have to know this isn’t okay. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“It was a one time thing,” Barley responded.

“We don’t know that.”

“Ian, really, it’s okay,” Barley assured him.

“How would you feel if the roles were reversed? You wouldn’t even be talking right now, you would be hunting someone down. Barley, I know you know this isn’t right,” Ian said, desperately.

“I’ll handle it, Ian. I promise. It’s late. Just try to get some rest for me, okay?”

Ian didn’t argue anymore, mostly because he probably knew it was pointless. Instead, he hugged Barley. He wrapped both arms around his brother tightly and for a moment, refused to let go.

“I love you, Barley. I just want you to be safe,” he said.

“You can’t change this, Barley. What happened, happened. What I did, what you did, what Kirk did, it’s over. But Kirk is still moving. He’s still doing things and that is what you need to focus on,” Drew said and Barley knew that this wasn’t his ex. It was an illusion, a figment of his own imagination of the person he feared most. So why wasn’t he afraid?

Ian needed him. He was safe from Drew. There was nothing more that bastard could ever do to either of them. He was dead. Barley killed him and he did so without hesitation. But he wasn’t safe from Kirk. And right now, he had Ian. This monster, this lunatic, had his little brother and Barley wasn’t anywhere near to keep him safe.

He wouldn’t be a prisoner of his own mind for another second. He was in control. This was his head, he was in charge. And he would get to his little brother now. He didn’t care what it took, what he had to do. Everything in him filled with adrenaline and, in a rush, he walked over to the door and opened it.

There was a bright light and suddenly he was aware he was in a hospital bed. His muscles and head burned and throbbed as he looked around. Corey was there, whisper yelling at two cyclops, but Barley couldn’t focus on what she was saying. But none of it mattered as one name was all he could focus on.

Ian.

“Barley!” Corey said, but before she could do anything else, Barley darted up. Ian was gone. Kirk had Ian and who knew how long Barley was out. He needed to find his brother.

He tried to stand, but then realized he was connected to different machines and IVs. He ripped off the one in his nose, then the IV.

“Barley! Stop!” Corey tried to grab him, but he ripped the cords off his chest and stood. Several nurses came rushing in and tried to get him to sit down.

“I need to find Ian. Get out of my way!” he snapped, pushing through one of the male nurses. He felt someone grab him from behind then a needle in his arm and before he knew it, everything turned dark.

Ian tried to break the bonds that held both of his wrists together, but he couldn’t see anything. Kirk had blindfolded him and shoved him on the floorboard of his backseat. He also gagged and tied Ian up to where he could hardly move. His staff was in the trunk, but he knew he wouldn’t see that for awhile.

“Barley didn’t look so good, Ian. I’m not sure if he is going to even survive his injuries from before. No one is going to be able to save you now.”

Ian shuddered as he kept trying to escape, but deep down he knew it was basically pointless. He prayed that Barley would be okay. The last few weeks his brother had been losing it at the idea of Kirk getting Ian, but now it was happening. Now it was here and his brother wasn’t around. Was this it? Was this how everything was going to end?

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to  Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records.  Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records.  Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.  

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation. 

 James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.” 

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

 Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits) 

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.     

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it?  Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take: 

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

  Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No. 

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment? 

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found. 

 Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed) 

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No 

Derek Taylor’s take: 

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.  

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”   

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

 claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes  

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”  

Ian Mathers’ take:  

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest. 

 M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

 Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in. 

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while. 

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

 Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.” 

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience? 

 The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete) 

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No. 

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

 Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No. 

Jason Bivins’ take: 

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

 Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell 

Did we review it? Not yet! 

Mason Jones’ take: 

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

 Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

Who picked it? Ray Garraty 

Did we review it? No. 

Ian Mathers’ take: 

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.

[incomingalbatross]

Classic companions you could pretty easily bring back into modern Doctor Who:

Susan. I know we'd have to address how she survived the Time War, but look! That could be a whole episode's plot in itself, with the Doctor coming upon the time/place she was hidden and unraveling its mystery or protecting it from a new threat! And as far as context... "She's my granddaughter." "You have a granddaughter??" "Yes." "Then... How...?" "Before I was the Doctor. A long time ago. By the time we left Gallifrey, it was just her and me." You can weave more explanation into the episode if you like, but you hardly need more.

Ian. This one is a little harder, partly because SJA said he and Barbara weren't aging and I'm cool with that, and partly because telling a story with Ian and no Barbara would be hard and/or sad. But... Ian's head of the Coal Hill School Board, right? Even with Clara gone, this one would be EASY. Meshing him with the new series might be less easy, but... Ian's adaptable. He can be exasperated with the Doctor under any circumstances.

Vicki. Give me Vicki as a matriarch of the Aeneids in pre-Roman Italy! Have her older and more settled, but still clever and mischievous and cheerfully disregarding history in the interests of her loved ones. Let her be deciding policy and taking care of her half-Trojan family. Give her a bunch of weird and dangerous pets. It's what she deserves.

Steven. Like...we know where he is. I'd love to revisit The Savages! How are they doing fifty years later! What has Steven helped to build? They had rudimentary time-engineering going on, as I recall--did the Time War hit them at all?

Dodo. I mean, personally I'm pretty committed to Dodo being a young Melody Pond, but I would sacrifice that if someone actually wanted to tell a good Dodo story. And, like... she's free real estate. Where did she come from? Where did she go? IT WAS UNCLEAR. 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Polly. Like Ian's case, having her appear without Ben would be rough... But it wouldn't be hard to do a story with her. They're running an orphanage, according to SJA--let's see her protecting her kids from an alien threat! AND she already knows about regeneration, so I feel like she'd get up to speed pretty fast.

Zoe. Okay, War Games is a complication here. I don't like the thought of establishing she's lived without her memories all this time but I also wouldn't like to retcon them as having been given back offscreen... It's a puzzle. But I WOULD be up for seeing that she'd built a good life for herself, and kept the personal growth she found in the TARDIS even without the memories.

Benton. Come on, please, this would be so easy... You CANNOT tell me that he hasn't already been helping Kate offscreen. You can bring him into literally any story with a UNIT element--or without! If the TARDIS finds something interesting in his town you can bet he'd already be in the middle of it. And you would need so little explanation, because it's BENTON. He'd take a new Doctor in his stride. All we'd need is "oh yeah, we go way back" and that'd be that for Necessary Context.

Yates. I mean... It might end up feeling like a Planet of Spiders reprise, but it wouldn't be hard to bring him in. You could make his history part of the plot, but you could also just make him one of the people affected by the MotW. (If you brought back a UNIT villain, it would tie in especially well.)

Tegan. Okay, she REALLY deserves closure. Give us an Australian story with her in it! Let us see that she's doing okay, she got through her trauma and is leading a good life, and let her and the Doctor talk. If you want an angsty reunion episode, this is one where the angst would actually feel earned...but it could also end in healing for both of them.

Nyssa. ... Okay, I think Big Finish did stuff with her post-canon. But just looking at canon, it wouldn't be hard to go back to Terminus. Let's see leader-of-a-community Nyssa and the Doctor (hey, now they've both experienced genocide!! 🤦🏻‍♀️).

Turlough. The Trions exist in our time and have interstellar travel, this one would be super easy. And also you could have a stupidly complex interplanetary political drama, (with Turlough scheming and lying and generally Doing His Best in a good cause), and that would be a fun story just on its own merits. (I believe Mark Strickson said somewhere that if he came back, he would like Turlough to be pretending to be someone else, and I am HERE for that.) Give me cloak-and-dagger Turlough.

Mel. Mel decided to be, like, a roving space pirate, right? Easy. I mean, given all the Trial weirdness around her, I like the idea of her being Not What She Seemed (though benign), but it wouldn't be hard to bring her in, canonically speaking. And she'd be fun to see again

Companions that would be harder/I'm more torn about, but you could still manage:

Jamie. Okay, this one is complicated because... you'd have to address not only War Games but also Season 6B, and anything you established for his life since (memories or no memories, ended up in Scotland or elsewhere, happy or sad or whatever else) would probably contradict somebody's cherished headcanons. On the other hand... The thought of Frazer Hines back on screen, and Jamie interacting with a new Doctor, makes me happy.

Leela. She's a lot more complicated because A) Gallifrey, and B) Big Finish has done so much with her and Gallifrey... I honestly can't speak to how hard this would be.

Romana: see above. But gosh, I'd love to see Romana get an actual part in a Gallifrey episode...

Peri. ...OOF. Okay, yeah, using Peri would require picking one of her many semi-canon fates. Could be rough. But...she DOES also deserve closure.

Ace. ...Yeah, Ace problems are Peri problems but WORSE, because she doesn't have a canon fate AT ALL. But... Pick something from the EU. You could manage it.

In conclusion: I would really love to see more interconnectedness in DW. And it could be done.

(on a scale of angst to non-angst, it definitely ranges from Tegan to Benton, but most of them don't need the story to be taken over by angst. Their history with the Doctor would be part of the story, but it could just be a grounding or enriching factor rather than dominating the plot. Just, "we're fighting evil like usual, but this time the Local Fighter is an old friend!" So there's room for more trust and an added investment on the Doctor's part, but their past doesn't have to be the plot.)

[thegaybachelorsims]

IAN- “I really don’t want to live in San Myshuno, but----”

MARK- “Then don’t, Ian. We want you to stay here...if that is what you really want.”

IAN- “I do. Brindleton Bay is nice, the people are nice and it is fairly stress free living here, for the most part anyway. Everything is laid back and quiet.  I do really like it here. I do have a friend that said I could move in with him, over at Bayview Condos, but he is being really hard to get a hold of right now.”

SETH- “Ian, listen. You do not have to go anywhere, unless you really want to. I want you to know that I am fine with you and Mark’s relationship, and even if things change in the future as to how Mark feels, I trust him...and you. If it even becomes a physical relationship, I am fine with that, as long as you guys are open and honest with me.”

IAN- “Really?”

MARK- “He really is, Ian. Not that I foresee that happening, but it just makes me love this guy even more.”

SETH- “We are going away for a week, Ian, and while we are gone, we are going to exchange our vows, that doesn’t change anything that we have just said. Take the week to think about things, and let us know oyur decision when we get back.”

IAN- “Okay...wow, that is fair enough.  This certainly not how I thought this conversation was going to go.  I will give it a week.  And congratulations of the wedding. Take lots of pictures!!

MARK- “We will, trust me.  You know me and my obsession with taking pictures!!  So how about a hug?”

IAN- “You truly are a good friend, Mark.  And I do love you. Thanks.”

MARK- “Same here, and get a hold of Penny while we are gone, invite her over.”

IAN- “I just might do that.”

With that, Ian goes over to Seth and grabs him off the couch...

SETH- “WHOA!!....”

IAN- “Mark is one lucky man to have you as his husband, I don’t think I have ever met anyone quite like you Seth. Better watch out, or maybe I will fall in love with both of you....”

IAN- “Okay... I like you too Ian.”

Mark laughs, he thinks Ian has already made up his mind to stay.

[teacup-crow]

Sunset

It’s Zombies, Make! day 2, session one! Thanks @puptart :)

This one was harder than the other two but I got something eventually! Based on prompt 2 (Girls Just Wanna Have Fun) and prompt 3, some really pretty forest pictures!

Jody and Cameo meet up to talk about old times, post S5M40.

CW: implied/referenced torture but nothing graphic at all

“You know, things don’t always have to be death and murder and sadness. We can just hang, like normal people.”

Jody glances at her friend in some disbelief. The two of them are parked out in trees, high above the forest floor, concealed from any zoms or Ministry loyalists who might wander down the path. But it’s quiet, at least for now. She has a flask of ersatz coffee with far too much honey in it, Cameo’s attempt at making things more palatable. In the distance, there’s even birds cooing. Her hands itch for her bow and arrows just hearing the sound, and the thought strikes her as funny. Six years ago, in that other life when she was a bank clerk, the idea of shooting a pigeon for lunch would be absolutely grim to her. Now, she’s already mentally pairing it with wild onions and that red wine stash Ian had stored in the farmhouse cellar, imagining people’s delight around the dinner table. Her people’s delight.

It’s a warm day, and for the first time in a long time, they’ve nowhere to be. She could maybe even let her guard slip for half a second if she isn’t careful.

“You sound like Eleven,” she replies at last, her smile a little thin.

“Well, we spent enough time together. Our stupid boys and their stupid dreams, huh.”

That hurts. Owen’s dopey lovestruck smile shutters into her head with a camera flash. Next, Kytan’s earnest, beaten face, offering her fingerprint-marked bread through the bars of her cell. Even Tom, shaking her awake on a bad night, asking her to hold him until he falls back to sleep.

“Have you seen him since everything happened?”

“Ky? No. He writes me letters, but I’m… not ready for that, you know? I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“I mean… that makes sense. But he didn’t mean to hurt you, Cam. He was only trying to stop you from getting-”

“Doesn’t matter very much what he was trying to do. He still betrayed Five, and that means he betrayed every single one of us. If I choose to be insubordinate to a lunatic, that’s my choice, right?” Cameo shakes her head, her auburn curls finally beginning to grow out again where they were hacked off for some infraction or other glowing warm in the evening sunshine. “Hey! Aren’t I the one who said it doesn’t always have to be death and murder and sadness? Let’s not dwell on it.”

Jody nods, swinging her legs. “Remember how it used to be when we were roommates?”

“Oh my God. The original barracks were an actual nightmare.”

“Kids these days with their four person rooms, they don’t even know they’re born!” They both laugh. “Remember karaoke night?”

“I will never forget karaoke night, unfortunately. Three’s dance moves are printed on my brain forever.”

“I did not expect Five to be a Mariah Carey fan, but there you go.”

“Eugene’s rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” Cameo giggles. “Are you going to be reinstating those nights during your leadership Commander Marsh?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jody puts her head in her free hand. “It’s terrifying!”

“Are we going to have to salute you?”

“Stop. It.”

“I can only manage ironic saluting, I’m afraid,” Cameo waves her hand near her forehead mockingly, the universal signal for crazy.

“I’m sure Ian loved that.”

“Oh, he was my biggest fan,” she smirks. She’s expertly whittling some wood, one of those many, many extraordinary skills alongside hacking and beekeeping and being brave to the point of stupidity. Before meeting her, Jody had felt quite accomplished, but Cameo managed to be good at everything she ever tried. And that was valuable.

“Come back home, Thirteen. I need people like you, now more than ever. If I’m going to be in charge of this disaster, I need people I know I can still trust with me. You’ve been there since the very beginning, and…”

“Oh. So this is what this is.”

Jody didn’t expect her tone to be so bitter or accusatory. “What is it?”

“It’s not a catch-up for old time’s sake. It’s not a reminder of things being better. It’s not for fun. It’s trying to drag me back to fulfil a duty I didn’t ever sign up for. My boyfriend is dead; my other boyfriend has lost half his marbles, and I can’t go back because Abel is… it’s tainted. Ian took somewhere I loved and he warped it and now I can’t think of it without feeling this gnawing hunger in my stomach.” Her hands tremble around the knife she’s holding. “You’ve heard of the Stanford prison experiment, yeah? Ordinary people don’t do well when you give them guns and a whole fucking town to beat up on.”

“I’m – I’m sorry. I was supposed to die. Would have, if Tom hadn’t rescued me. I wasn’t supposed to leave you behind.” I never wanted to leave anyone behind.

“I know, but Four… it got so much worse. You left us for so long. And she, she, she let it happen. She let him poison everything, slowly. Turned us all on each other. And it’s broken me. I didn’t know it back then, because I was just trying to survive, but…”

She falls silent, staring down at the wood she’s whittling, her next words so quiet they barely carry between the trees.

“You have to stop her. You just… have to. But I can’t help anymore.”

Jody nods. The sunset glows in the trees. A chapter ends, a new one begins. She begins to climb down, feeling her radio buzz in her pocket.

“Will I see you again?”

“I’m sure you will.”

It isn’t a promise. She didn’t expect that much, but still.

“You’re a stronger woman than me, Jody Marsh.”

“I disagree. But Cammie… one day you are going to see a future. You’re going to heal. You lived through the first time your world ended, and you thrived. You can do it again.”

A thin face peers down from the leaves. “You know, I think you’re going to be a great leader.”

“I’m going to try.”

Cameo nods, and smiles again, and it’s genuine, not borne from forced bravado. Jody smiles back, and turns to run home.

[princessanneftw]

Mike Tindall: 'Zara and I are planning to send Mia back to school in June'

By Eleanor Steafel for The Telegraph

Mike Tindall has spent much of lockdown asking himself a question by now familiar to parents up and down the country: what would a teacher do?

Over the past eight weeks the Tindalls have joined the legions of families juggling homeschooling one child while keeping a toddler occupied, supporting vulnerable loved ones from afar, and trying to get some work done in between it all. With his wife Zara still needing to put in the hours training her horses on the Gatcombe Park estate in Gloucestershire, where they live, the programme of year one classes for their eldest daughter Mia, six, has mainly been shepherded by Mike - to varying degrees of success.

“Zara still has hopes that the horses will get back, they still need training and working on, so I get to be a teacher in the mornings which is sometimes really nice, sometimes really frustrating,” he tells me over Zoom. His Zoom background, incidentally, looks like a rather impressive bookcase but in fact, he reveals with a wry smile, “It’s wallpaper, I’m not that well read.”

The homeschooling, he says, hasn’t always been a walk in the park. “I don’t think any child is a great homeschooler because they definitely listen to other people better than they listen to their parents.

“[Mia] can be brilliant one minute and then something you’ve seen her do a thousand times she’ll just go ‘I don’t know how to do that’ and then you go ‘well I know you do’, and she’ll just say ‘no I don’t’ and then you get frustrated, and you’re trying not to get frustrated.”

Doubtless a familiar scene for the millions of parents currently attempting to provide an education from their kitchen table. “She enjoyed it the first week because it was different being around Mum and Dad all the time,” he says. “But then, ultimately, it’s the same people who are telling her off or telling her what to do and I think then she gets bored of that.”

They are hoping Mia will return to school on June 1st, as per the government’s plan to allow reception, year one and year six children back in the classroom. “The plan is, at the moment, that she would go back but obviously that’s still up in the air,” he says. “Every day you read different things... we’ll just have to wait.

“There is no ideal situation,” he adds, but is encouraged by statistics suggesting children are unlikely to suffer from coronavirus or pass it on to adults. “As long as they’re doing everything they can to make it as safe as possible,” he believes reopening would be a positive step.

He’s also keen to ensure the girls maintain their independent spirits. “They definitely enjoy having that full time attention, but you also want them to have some independence. That’s the side you want them to keep developing.”

Tindall is also navigating the tricky business of supporting parents who are shielding. His mum and dad live 200-odd miles away in West Yorkshire; his dad, Phil, has lived with Parkinson’s for 17 years, and his mother, Linda, has asthma. They have just started to go for the odd dog walk, but have mainly been confined to the house since mid-March. “It’s just tough... they don’t want to be cooped up but they are very worried about going too far afield and getting too close to everyone else.”

His brother Ian lives a few miles from them, “which is reassuring,” though he worries what would happen if his dad had a fall, as he would be unable to enter their house. “It would be very difficult for my mum to move a dead weight. And if his medication wears off and he can’t move and he’s not in a place where he can sleep then mum’s got to try and get him into bed.

“It’s just very tough for her. It’s pretty much like that most of the time but at least [usually] she knows that she’s got my brother on the doorstep... If you don’t have that it just doesn’t make [for] a very nice environment.”

WhatsApp video calls have taken the place of in-person visits, enabling them to chat to their grandchildren and watch them playing. That is, when Mike can “make them understand how a phone works. Most of the time I’m talking to [Dad’s] head or up his nose. But once you get that sorted you can get the kids on and that’s what they miss.”

However good the technology, however, “you still can’t have a hug,” he says. “Everyone loves a hug.”

When they are next able to be together, he and Zara’s youngest daughter, Lena (who is about to turn two, and counts Prince Harry among her godparents) will have changed a fair amount in the time since her grandparents last saw her. “It could be six months since their last visit and a lot changes at that age in six months. All you can do is keep taking photos and videos and sending it to them.”

They are yet to see his mother-in-law Princess Anne, who lives in another house on the Gatcombe Estate, in the flesh, but she has been getting to grips with tech, too. Many royal engagements are now being carried out via video: the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge popped up on Zoom to surprise a Bingo session at a care home this week, while even the Queen, who is isolating at Windsor, has got on board, receiving a video call from baby Archie on her birthday.

“It’s busy still for them,” he says of Princess Anne, who appeared on a call with World War II veterans earlier this month to mark VE Day. “She works so hard with all her charities and she’s still got a lot to do, so they’re still in full flow.”

Disappointingly, there have been no Zoom quizzes with the Cambridges or Sussexes, or competitive sourdough action on their WhatsApp group. “Actually it hasn’t been that active,” he laughs. “I think everyone is just getting on with it.”

The former England captain has always worn his royal links lightly - in part, one imagines, thanks to his upbringing. He eschewed university, instead joining Bath Rugby at aged 18 and making his national debut against Ireland at Twickenham in 2000. He now realises that this was the same year his dad started to show the initial symptoms of Parkinson’s disease, although it would be another three years until it was diagnosed.

That delay is one reason he is so determined to raise awareness. His annual celebrity golf day raises around £90,000 every year for the Cure Parkinson’s Trust, and though the tournament can’t happen this year, he is running an online auction to raise funds for the Trust, the NHS and the Matt Hampson Foundation, with proceeds to be split between them.

Tindall hopes he can “raise a fair few coins for the coffers”, particularly for the charity founded by his friend Matt Hampson, who became paralysed from the neck down in a rugby accident in 2005, and is currently in the vulnerable category during lockdown. “He is already permanently on a ventilator with his fractured and dislocated neck, and he doesn’t know if he can go out until there’s a vaccine.”

Tindall seems a pretty level-headed, get on with it sort of man, but admits he has spent the last two months “up and down a little bit,” he says. “You get to spend a lot of time with the kids and family which is unbelievable.” But life is also “in a bit of limbo, and you’re trying to fill the day with positive things to keep you mentally attuned and focused.”

A day always works better, he says, “when there’s a bit of a plan around it so you don’t wallow the hours away”.

He still has “a lot of questions about how things will look after”; both for his beloved sport, and the hospitality company he is an ambassador for. “But,” he admits, “I’m ready to break out - when we’re allowed to.”

Mike Tindall has launched an online auction to raise money for the NHS, The Cure Parkinsons Trust and Matt Hampson Foundation. To bid, visit jumblebee.co.uk/thestadiumoflife

[bi-dazai]

a summary of the whole contrapoints thing from someone who has been spending most of her time on twitter and seen it first-hand throughout

(im using screenshots, some ive downloaded from trusted twitter mutuals and some ive made myself. since i have the shinigami eyes extension and many of my twitter mutuals dont, some scs will be inconsistent. i have checked each downloaded sced tweet to make sure theyre real.)

please dont try to start an argument on this post, im just summarising whats happened. ive already argued myself out over on my twitter and whatever point youre trying to make has literally already been said 20 times before.

Basically in late august/september natalie said some inflammatory shit about pronouns and nbs and “binary transes” which she’d said stuff along the lines of in the past. both nb and binary trans folks have criticised her lightly for this kind of attitude in the past as well. she has a pattern of behaviour (including being very...lenient towards terfs) but the stuff she was saying and the bad takes were tolerable, if incorrect and a little ignorant. what she said this time was basically “asking for pronouns in trans spaces is good i guess but it hurts passing/semi-passing transes like me” which is a take that makes no goddamn sense and is extremely ignorant towards both nb folks and trans folks who do not have the luxury of even trying to pass. she exaggerates the actual effect it has on her as well. basically the entire tweet reads really badly (the discussion was about asking for pronouns in trans spaces):

peter coffin made some batshit crazy takes (as usual) including inventing the term “enby cultural capital” which he refused to actually evaluate on past asking people to read a book (if you cant clarify your point on your own then you have an issue). he started tweeting like a madman and making it painfully clear how hard he will go to bats for natalie despite him being nb himself (many people joked/suspected  that its because he wants to fuck her, same with philosophytube, and honestly looking at how they see her that isnt hard to believe).

natalie went off twitter for a while, eventually leaving an apology that was actually alright and made me and several others believe she would return a little more understanding of trans intra-community issues, especially in terms of class because she has always had an issue with ignorance from that angle. she said she had a friend called gwen taking over (nobody knows who this is nor had they ever heard of this friend, leaving some people suspicious that she may have made her up. im not going to confirm or deny this because i have no clue.)

idk what peter coffin was up to because at this point i and most ppl had officially stopped listening to him but i believe he was angrily tweeting about cancel culture. a lot of people were as well, even though the bulk of the criticisms of natalie had been written and expressed in a mature, appropriate way. some of my twitter mutuals who had been involved in discussing natalie’s past trends with these issues as well as her lack of class consciousness and (probably) accidental antisemitism began to get messages from what was very clearly alt-right trolls trying to doxx natalie. it was real information, which is extremely concerning, but no person published it and her criticisers that got those dms were vocal about not bullying or doxxing natalie. natalie wasn’t pushed away because of “cancel culture”, and “cancel culture” really isnt a real thing and many contra fans believed this too until she came under criticism, which highlights a pretty weird mentality but whatever.

anyway, she came back this week with a new video titled “opulence” which i dont care for watching so i just read about it from my twitter mutuals who did. since i didnt watch it ill only summarise its criticisms very basically. 

to put it simply the main criticisms of the video were that she conflated trans aesthetic with literal opulence and class again, which people weren’t a fan of. she talked about her experience over the last few weeks, spinning it her way because how else would she spin it, thats to be expected. it was mostly just the usual contra, flawed takes and a bit of class ignorance...except for one blaring massive issue which is absolutely undeniable proof for where she’s heading with her politics and her content.

on that video, natalie invited infamous transmed, the guy who outed lana wachowski for money, buck angel, to collab with her. this guy is infamous in the trans community for being a cis bootlicking bigot. he makes kalvin garrah look like a lovely guy. he’s been around for a very long time and he’s very famous for being a massive asshole. heres just a taste of the kind of attitude he carries:

contra has previously spoken up about why you shouldn’t platform bigots. so her platforming a bigot has some very very obvious implications.

needless to say, people were and are pretty mad and very disappointed. a large majority of her fans have been against this.

 when oliver (philosophytube) promoted the video on his twitter many replies to his quote tweet were his fans begging him to be even mildly critical of contra. 

on contra’s subreddit (for clarification, natalie isnt a mod there and im not sure about how involved she is on the sub) there was even a thread created in which MANY of her fans on there expressed criticism of contra’s views. the mods then locked the post, deleted comments, and banned the use of the word “truscum” because it was offensive i guess? it was a move very close to “terf is a slur” territory

furthermore, some pretty infamous transphobes have been in support of her and buck angel in the past, including ian miles cheong which is...wow. some of these are scs from a twitter mutual, but the ones with red names are from me - i have the shinigami eyes extension, so basically any person with a red name is a known transphobe (im surprised buck isnt marked yet lol).

finally, ill put some threads here that give a pretty good analysis and view of the situation imo

[feferipeixes]

(diff anon here just interested in the idea)Quarantine AU permanently scars Dipper. He never trusts his previous idol again, and treats his reincarnations with the same contempt and hatred as he does with Bill's, even going so far to avoid other reincarnations if an r!Ford is around. He's a definitely more off-his-rocker, and is less trusting in general.

(Quarantine AU is from this post)

Oooooo yesssss that’s a really good idea! So my thought is that in light Quarantine, Mabel is maybe eventually able to tolerate Ford. She can’t truly forgive him, and she treats him like she treats Mark and Anna in main TAU, although probably quite a bit worse than that cause Mark and Anna were never successful in separating the twins. He’s not really welcome at home and thats partially because Dipper still kinda believes what Ford said to him. Dipper’s been able to have a nicer life, been able to live with his family and be loved, but he’ll often still worry that it’s all just an act, that he really is evil and all he’ll ever really be able to be is a demon. Mabel and Stan and Henry do their best to comfort him about this stuff, but seeing Ford is just a reminder, just a quick and painful way to take him out of whatever mindset he was in and go back to the horrified look on Ford’s face, that awful lonely feeling as he watched Mabel and Stan from the Mindscape, that rush of making deals and going to summons for years without this pretense of being human (and it’s so easy for him to forget all the nice things he was doing for his family in secret the whole time).

No, Ford is definitely not welcome around him, but, in the far future? There’s no Mabel and Stan to keep him away from Dipper. And while r!Ford wouldn’t exactly know who Dipper was, Dipper would see Ford’s soul and remember, he’d just go right back there. Just like Mizar is able to bring him into a good cycle, r!Ford is able to bring him into a bad cycle. There’s some really interesting potential for stories here, like you could have a very sweet r!Ford who just sees the good in people and can’t understand why his very presence seems to hurt this demon’s feelings so much, and is maybe able to actually become a positive figure in Dip’s life. You could have an evil r!Ford who Dipper just cannot bring himself to hate, because he just sees this soul and can’t stop thinking about how everything he said was right. You could even have a Mira/Ian situation where Dipper has to deal with both his grounding element and ungrounding element being in the same place together.

Now, things are very different in heavy Quarantine (what I’ve been calling the darker variant of the AU). Ford is absolutely not welcome at home in the slightest, Mabel never speaks to him again after decking him, and if Stan ever speaks to him after kicking him out of the house, it’s only years later and never in person. His presence is extremely triggering for Dipper -- a big part of heavy Quarantine, for me, is going to be Mabel, Stan, and Henry (especially Mabel though) helping Dipper recuperate from his mind being ground into dust, and then Dipper struggling over time to deal with his trauma. Ford’s presence is a big setback every time. The whole time this is happening, Ford is spying on Gravity Falls, trying to figure out if this horrible demon that Mabel let into the family is killing them or torturing them, and he constantly gets signs that it’s not happening. And this just makes Ford feel worse and worse, because he starts to realize that oh shit he might have made a mistake, oh no oh NO how can he ever live with himself if that was really his great nephew that he isolated and tortured for years. At some point, Dipper's mind is recovered enough that he’s able to go out and about, and he and Ford meet eyes once. Dipper has an immediate setback and retreats to the house with the triplets, but Ford saw the humanity in those eyes, the wholehearted love that he was displaying for those kids he was with, and in that moment Ford knows how absolutely he fucked up. He maybe tries to make amends -- it’s been suggested that he spends the rest of his life researching how to undo what happened to Dipper -- but to no avail, obviously. He’s irredeemable, and that sucks so bad because from a very very high level it’s understandable why Ford did what he did.

So, in heavy Quarantine, how would Dipper react to r!Ford’s? Horribly. While r!Ford’s in light Quarantine sent him into a self-flagellating spiral, r!Ford’s in heavy Quarantine are a massive trauma trigger. He sees that soul and just feels that horrible anguish from his mind dissolving over the years of isolation, and it hurts so damn much. He may even hate r!Ford’s more than r!Bill’s, because even though it’s Bill’s fault that Dipper’s a demon, Ford honestly hurt Dipper way more than Bill personally did in his lifetime. When there are big demon-related tragedies in the world, r!Ford’s are at the middle of them. When you have a Mira/Ian situation, Dipper actively avoids Mizar -- he’s just so damn scared and hurt. He has trouble trusting anyone for a good while after that each time it happens. And yet it seems like r!Ford’s are drawn to him. He keeps finding them and he keeps regressing every single time. It’s only through the fact that he has an infinity of time to recover that he keeps finding Mizars who want him to be around.

I really appreciate the asks about Quarantine AU! I love brainstorming about it so I 100% welcome more asks if people have ideas ✨