#anyway I keep wanting to make regular posts and then get stage fright

[citadelspires]

cant believe i nearly missed november 5th entirely, only 3 minutes out from it being gone, imma go have a crisis about it having been 3 whole years now thanks and bye

[asterlark]

ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

[motherjoel]

Leading Lady (Spencer Reid x Reader)

chapter one- movie pirate

wc: 1.2k

summary: you’re a struggling actor in New York at risk of being the next victim in a string of local murders

a/n: this is a story thats on my AO3 that I decided to post on tumblr as well! i hope you guys like it

chapter index: chapter 2

“Deep breaths, Y/N. Once you’re up there, it’ll be a piece of cake! You just, yaknow, have to get up there,” you say to yourself, in hopes of convincing yourself to calm down. Being on stage was your favorite place to be, but for some reason it took all of your strength to actually walk onto the stage, even though it was just a rehearsal. Your passion outweighed the stage fright though, and as you heard your cue you got into character and made your way onto the stage. 

-

“It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes… Tomorrow comes!” you sang, tears threatening to roll down your face. It was still only rehearsal but for some reason the last words of Les Mis brought you to tears every time. You finally landed your dream role of Eponine, although it was just a local community theater, the cast was very talented and you were honored to stand with them.

“Great rehearsal everyone. I know it's been a long day so I wont keep you. Go home, rest your voices, stay hydrated and be ready for tech rehearsal next week!” your director said. The rest of the cast had rushed off the stage, running off to their night shifts and chicken flavored ramen. Most of the cast were young and struggling to make it in show biz, much like you, who had yet to move from your position on the stage, still soaking in the moment. You snapped out of it, though- you had an early shift the next day and needed your sleep. Jumping off the stage, you gathered your things from a chair in the audience and headed out of the theatre. 

Your walk home was fairly short. Living in New York had its perks, especially the walkability. Never mind the polluted air and real estate prices- you just felt like you belonged here in Manhattan. You normally felt safe walking home at night, with the streets usually occupied, but you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you. Picking up your pace, you made it to your apartment building and ran up the 5 stories.

“Yo, how was your rehearsal?” asked your next door neighbor and friend Brooke as you unlocked your door. She, like you, was a struggling artist- Brooke was always working on a novel, hoping to be the next big author. 

“It was fine. I'm starved, though. Wanna order a pizza?” you asked, hoping she'd come inside with you to hang out. You were still unsettled from earlier, couldn't shake the feeling of being watched and you didn't want to be alone.

“At 10:30 PM?” she questioned, to which you nodded. “Ugh I wish I could hang, I have to get to bed. I’m flying home tomorrow morning and I gotta leave the house at like 4 AM. Why don’t you ask Maaaaaatt to hang out…?” she suggested, drawing out the “a” in matt to tease you. Matt played Marius in your show and the two of you have a bit of a “showmance” going on. It wasn’t really a love connection but at least he was someone to pass the time. 

“Eh, maybe. It is actually kinda late and I gotta be at the store pretty early tomorrow. Have fun on your flight!” you said, stepping inside your apartment. Shutting and locking the door, you threw your keys and bag onto the couch and strode into the kitchen. Your apartment was very small- barely enough room for 2 people. You had moved in with your now ex-boyfriend, Logan, a few months ago. He has since moved out and for some reason, the small apartment always felt empty. 

Changing into your PJs and forgoing a shower, you climbed into bed and tried to fall asleep as soon as possible. You had to work at 8 and needed sleep. You drifted off with thoughts of France in 1815, not noticing the shadows on the fire escape outside your bedroom window.

-

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Ughhhhh,” you sighed, not a morning person. It was 7:15 but it felt like the middle of the night. Rolling out of bed, you put on a denim skirt with tights, a black turtleneck and a pair of mary jane doc martens. This was your usual style, a staple piece being a turtleneck, sometimes you experimented with a colorful sweater but it was nice to have a style that was easy to throw on every morning. You heated up a frozen breakfast burrito while you put on some makeup, planning on grabbing some coffee at work. As you walked to grab your purse from your bed, you noticed the window in your room was slightly ajar. Weird for the middle of October, but you had work in 20 minutes and didn’t have time to dwell. You shut and locked the window, hurrying out the front door.

-

It was a short walk to your workplace- a quaint little bookstore/coffee shop store that you had loved ever since you walked in a few short months ago. After becoming a regular, you had noticed a “help wanted” sign in the window and jumped at the perfect opportunity to work your dream job. It was pretty chill and you got free coffee every shift which was a definite bonus. Today, however, was the opposite of chill. You knew this to be true when two serious looking men walked in with purpose- not the meandering behavior of your usual customers. You were behind the counter, just having finished ringing someone up, when the two walked over to you.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” the muscular one asked. You were shocked, to say the least, and you guessed it was pretty evident on your face when the man introduced himself.

“I’m agent Morgan, this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI,” he said, flashing you a badge. “Could we speak with you?” 

You were caught off guard, once again. “FBI? The worst thing I’ve ever done is go on 123movies to watch High School Musical!” you said, noticing a smirk on the muscular one's face- the skinnier one in the sweater looked puzzled by you. 

“No miss, we’re not here about that,” he chuckled. 

“We’re here because we believe you could be the next victim in a string of murders,” said the sweatered one, quite bluntly. The man you now knew as Agent Morgan nudged him and he put his head down, blushing. Your mouth was agape.

“Sorry for my partner here, he isn’t the best with bedside manners. But, it's true. It’s possible that you’re in a lot of danger. Would you come with us?” he asked. You checked your watch, seeing that your shift was due to end in 10 minutes anyway. 

“Sure, I guess. Lemme just grab my things from the back,” you told them. As you headed to the back you heard the two bickering, but you were too in shock from the news you just received to listen in. After gathering your purse and jacket, you were led out the door by the two men and into a large black SUV.

[radramblog]

Radiohead Retrospective Part 4: We’ve got heads on sticks

Your name is Thom Yorke. You’ve just released what is considered one of the best albums of the 90s, if not of all time, and you’ve achieved a level of fame that at least one band member considers akin to the Beatles. Through the release of OK Computer, you’ve proven that even if people are pretty much over Oasis at this point, British rock bands still rule the airwaves. You’re also stressed the fuck out over just about all of this, and having a very hard time accustoming to the life of a celebrity- let alone the usual mental health issues.

What will you do?

Apparently, the answer was to write the fourth album to be as far away from the previous few as possible, seeking influence from IDM groups like Aphex Twin, jazz stuff, and just some bizarro instruments and experimentation and leaving a lot of the “rock” stuff behind. The primary genre listed for Kid A is usually Electronica or Ambient, with various off-kilter rock subgenres lagging behind, crying “you’re still gonna do guitars and stuff, right?”

Well…not as much anymore. But this era of Radiohead, this career-suicidal swerve, still proved monumentally successful, and showed that the band still had it, and that sometimes artistic risks do pay dividends.

A side note: I usually link music videos for the tracks I discuss as part of each post, as you’ll have seen in previous parts of this series. Kid A, however, doesn’t have any singles, and it sure doesn’t have any music videos. So…maybe just listen yourself. I’m probably in over my head here anyway.

I think the first 5 notes of Everything In Its Right Place are some of the most iconic in all of music.

Some personal background- Kid A was the first Radiohead I ever listened to. A particular cool and good mate of mine was a fan in high school, but I’d never listened to them at all, and I trusted his opinion musically, so I went to buy one of their CDs the next time I was at the shop. And for whatever reason, the cheapest one was Kid A at 10 bucks, and I didn’t want to gamble more than that, so that’s the one I got.

So the opening notes of Everything In Its Right Place were the first Radiohead I ever heard. And considering how much I obsessed over this band, in high school and beyond, it’s no surprise that this song is one of my favourites.

Not only did this song introduce me to Radiohead, it was effectively a gateway track for electronic music in general. This was the early 10s, and the majority of what I knew as electronic stuff was the EDM that was drowning the airwaves at the time. I hated that stuff out of principle, because being a hipster like that was definitely a personality. I don’t think I would ever have gotten into Vaporwave, into IDM, or into any electronic music the way I eventually would were it not for Everything In Its Right Place.

Now that I’ve spent 250 words talking about myself and not the actual song, we should probably stop that. Everything In Its Right Place is defined by this steady build of layering vocals and effects onto the relatively calm synth line, distorted vocals and word salad lyrics and manipulated noises growing and getting more chaotic before it just stops- the vocals fade out, the effects drop, and you’re left with the synth line- except it’s been slowly changing itself the whole time, and you don’t realise because you’ve been distracted by everything else at the same time.

It’s worth noting (and I don’t know if this was the case with OK Computer, because I don’t have an original copy of that one) that this was an album without liner notes, without the lyrics in the cover booklet. But at least in this case, the lyrics don’t matter as much as the v i b e. At least, that’s what I think.

On the topic of unintelligible lyrics, Kid A has a title track! I believe literally two Radiohead albums do this, the other being The Bends (though Hail to the Thief and In Rainbows do appear as lyrics). The song itself is an ambient, quiet piece that feels something like a twisted nursery tune- incredibly affected vocals, a syncopated (?) percussion, and a synth (I think???) that…I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels nursery-rhyme-y. If you’ve heard this song a few times, or you know what to listen for, you can piece together the lyrics somewhat- and they are, frankly, kind of unsettling. What is standing in the shadows at the end of your bed, can it please leave? And imagery of the Pied Piper is always either extremely silly or extremely unnerving, with this clearly leaning towards the latter. There’s a lot going on here- especially for a track most probably wouldn’t listen to outside the context of the full album. I know I generally don’t- not the kind of thing I generally am in the mood for.

 We’re at 850+ words, and we’re only up to The National Anthem? Fuuuuck. Well, anyone who wasn’t on board the IDM train can at least appreciate this one more, it’s got an actual bassline. A killer one, at that, that drives the whole track. Well, you know, that and the B R A S S. Seriously, it sounds like they invited a marching band to this bad boy. The combination ends up sounding mostly like controlled chaos, a jazz band traffic jam wound together by that B A S S. But the bass can’t hold it forever, and eventually that shit breaks free and just, it just honks all over the place.

I’m frustratingly running out of things to say about this song I really like, as opposed to the other songs I really liked. Unfortunately, ya boi forgot to take his neurotypicalification pills today, and so I’m getting very distracted. Hopefully, that slightly unhinged nature suits the album somewhat.

The next song, How To Disappear Completely, is a Big Mood with a fun story attached. The main lyrics- I’m not here, this isn’t happening- were allegedly something none other than Michael Stipe from R.E.M. told Thom to help him deal with that massive stage fright that came with Getting Big. Fun trivia aside, this song is gorgeous, luscious with massive strings, an acoustic bend, aethereal vocals, and a background drone running through the thing that makes sure your hair is always a little on end through the thing. It’s a song whose lyrics are an attempt to escape anxiety, whose instrumentation serves more to reinforce it- a calm, melodic piece that builds into nervous swells and threatening strings. A song about fighting your fear, and losing.

Fuck me it’s a bit depressing isn’t it. It’s potentially the most emotionally revealing song the album has- a lot of the lyricism on other tracks is more metaphorical, or subtle, but the meaning in How To Disappear Completely is evident even just from the title. You get lost in the strings and they go from calming, to imposing, to downright menacing (and then back again) in the song’s final minute.

Treefingers, on the other hand, has a lot less to say, and by that I mean it’s an instrumental. A very atmospheric, ambient one, and thereby one I don’t have a lot to say about. I’m not sure I’m particularly good at commenting on regular music, but this kinda thing is a whole different animal. I have no idea how to interact with discussing this. I like it? I will say, that one note right at the end, that echoes for a bit, the one piece of clarity in this muddled, reverbed sphere, feels especially poignant, for reasons I cannot describe.

We go from ambient instrumental to arguable the most rock-song-like track on this album, Optimistic, certified banger that it is. Some might argue that it doesn’t fit here, but like, did they even hear the lyrics? The bridge? It more that deserves its place on one of the best albums around. The little way the guitar scales up during the chorus is excellent, the proggy drums and riffs are glorious, it’s just a very good rock song.

Also this is the first song with the lyric “dinosaurs roaming the earth”, which, aside from being a bit of a non-sequitur, would return two albums later. And I’m really looking forward to that one.

In Limbo is a song I kind of always forget exists until I hear it again. It’s antimemetic, the way the song goes slipping from my mind until I hear those opening notes again. I’m going to be honest, it’s probably because it’s also the most mid song on the album. Far from bad, but it isn’t doing anything that How to Disappear Completely or Optimistic aren’t doing better. If I had to remove any track from this album, it might be this one?

Watch me get fucking lynched from the fandom for that one, if I ever post this to r/Radiohead or whatever. Which I might, though as much as I’d like more people to read my things I’m also extremely anxious about the potential response. Like the album I’m discussing today, I’m terrified of fame.

Incidentally, In Limbo is also the shortest track on the album (Treefingers beats it by 11 seconds), though this isn’t initially obvious online at least, because people keep messing with Motion Picture Soundtrack. But we’re not there yet, hang on.

We go from the forgettable (to me) In Limbo to the utterly mesmerizing Idioteque. Anxious but danceable, confusing but emotive, messy but tightly controlled. I love this fucking song to death. The reason I got the particular Radiohead poster that I did was because it has lyrics from this on it.

I’ve heard that lyrics for this album were largely pulled from a hat, and nowhere is that more clear than here (or maybe Everything In Its Right Place). Despite this, there’s a pretty clear theme in them, a continuation of some of the themes of this and the last albums. A condemnation of wealth and cowardice in the face of ecological disaster. In the form of an apocalypse disco.

What a lot of people don’t know about this track is that it actually samples an extremely old electronic music piece- one written in 1973, on a particularly old computer. The track, mild und leise, is a very interesting track considering its age- I’m reminded of Selected Ambient Works by Aphex Twin- not so much musically, but about how that reason was as influential as it was because it was the first time songs had sounded like that, because it was the first time songs could sound like that- I suppose it’s somewhat similar in that way, if older. These pieces and their composers inexorably linked by the allure of technology, and how that could be used to define new eras in music history- in Radiohead’s case, it certainly defined the next few albums in their lifespan.

Jesus mild und leise is long, it’s still going as I write this. I need to get back to Kid A, man!

Idioteque leads directly into Morning Bell, admittedly another less memorable song. Largely percussion lead, plenty of falsetto, and with a very unsubtle theme if you listen to the lyrics. I recall seeing someone saying that “cut the kids in half” was a really surprising and spooky line, and, yeah, sure, it sort of is, but it’s only particularly bad if you don’t pay attention for the rest of it. It’s about divorce, dude, it’s not subtle.

Or apparently not, according to one interview, but Thom said the interpretation isn’t invalid, so haha still winning baybeeeee.

I think the only part of this I really can’t do without is the outro, because the last minute and a half of this song is really cool. The mumbled lyrics go really well with the rising percussion and eerie effects that end the track.

Our final song is Motion Picture Soundtrack, or, Exit Music (for Walt Disney’s Depression Nap). This and Street Spirit I think are what really cement Radiohead’s reputation for brutal closers, both of them being tragic but hauntingly beautiful in different ways. In this case, it’s the instrumentation- glittering harps attempting the echo 50s Disney. There’s actually a version of this song from the OK Computer era with extremely different instrumentation, piano rather than organ, and no harps (and a third verse that is utterly brutal). Regardless, this is the song they chose to close the apocalypse that Kid A is on- the final lyric being “I will see you in the next life”, as the glittering echoes into the night. Poignant and tragic, but a little hopeful- the next life hopefully won’t have the struggles and pain of this one.

And then, of course, there’s the hidden track. Nicknamed Genchildren by some (that’s just the username of the dude who uploaded it to Napster back in the day), officially known as Untitled, and the true closer to the album. With Spotify slapping it right at the end of Motion Picture Soundtrack, it’s not clear the true nature of this song- it’s actually hidden on the original album, after several minutes of silence, just long enough that you’ve forgotten you left the player running (or you’re still crying from Motion Picture Soundtrack). I don’t think there’s a real word for what this sounds like other than heavenly, and incredibly brief piece I’ve heard compared to the pearly gates. After all, if we end on “I will see you in the next life”, then what can this be but that?

 Thus closes Kid A, a gorgeous and powerful album, yet an insane swerve for any rock band to pull, not just Radiohead. A bold strategy, and yet it paid off for them- Kid A would not only be massively influential, it was also massively successful both critically and commercially- but not to the standard of OK Computer before it. But they obviously weren’t trying to do OK Computer part 2, just as that album was deliberately not The Bends part 2.

Kid A would pretty much get a Part 2, though, less than a year later. And it’s that album we’ll be discussing next week, obviously. Until then.

[act-addict-actors-matchups]

@cinnamon-bunni said,

Hi, can I get a matchup please? I'm an ambiverted infp-t leo. I'm extremely quiet at first, out of shyness and that I don't really know how to talk to people. I can come across as passive or indifferent too, but really I'm not good at expressing myself. I try to make up for it by being extra polite but I tend to zone out a lot. Once I'm out of my shell I become really hyper and talkative depending on the other's energy level. I'm told I have a sense of humour and a little snark too. (1/2)

I love physical affection but I'm not good at initiating things; I prefer to make stuff for friends to show I care. For interests, I love drawing, needlefelting and animals. I like to try and befriend cats when I'm out and share random animal facts;; There aren't many things I don't like but I'm camera shy and have super bad stage fright, ironically;; tysm in advance 💞 (2/2)

✧ Thank you so much for requesting a matchup, love. As an Aries, I really love Leo’s lol. I hope the matchup is to your liking and am sorry it took me so long to get it down. 💓

I’d match you with: . . .

➜ HOW YOU TWO FIRST MET ; Cats. That’s it. That’s the post. That’s how you two first met each other. Jokes aside, you were on your way to meet up with your friends. That is until you got distracted by bunch of kitty cats. Just as you were about to reach your hand to pet one of them, it started to run towards the opposite direction. The action made you pause because normally you’d be able to befriend any cat without a problem. That talent was something you had pride in and you always made sure to rub it on your friend’s faces. Out of curiosity, and for the sake of your pride, you followed the cat until your eyes caught a glimpse of light purple locks. In the middle of bunch of stray cats were a young man dressed very casually, petting and playing with the cats, an energetic smile present on his face. He was wearing a dark green hoodie with a yellow triangle pattern at the front and a pair of blue jeans rolled up above his ankles. He also tied a yellow lumberjack shirt around his waist and wore a pair of white Vans with a camouflage pattern. If you weren’t irritated by how many cats were around him, you would have thought he was attractive. Very, very attractive. With a huff, you were about to turn back and continue walking until you felt something soft rubbing against your legs. Glancing down, you were surprised to find an Abyssinian cat rubbing its head and softly purring. The irritation you were feeling was thrown out of the window as you bent down to pet it. You were happily petting the cat until an amazed shout pulled you away from your trance. “Woaah, a cat with triangular face! I wanna pet it too!” Before you knew it, the man who was surrounded by kitties were right beside you, his orange eyes sparkling with excitement as your hand made contact with the cat’s head once more. “Go ahead. It’s not like I own it anyways.” You mumbled with a shrug of your shoulders. He thanked you and called you a nice stranger girl before starting to pet the cat as well. Everything was normal until he started to meow. It got even weirder when the cat meowed back at the male. You raised an eyebrow at the male’s action as you slowly started to back away. But what the male said stopped you in your tracks. “Waaa, he says he likes you! I’m so jealous.” With a glance at the boy, you asked how did he know what the cat was saying and as a response, he said he could talk to cats. Of course, like every sensible and rational person you didn’t believe him. Before you knew it, you were giving him a bunch of reasons how it was impossible to talk to animals. What you didn’t expect was for him to not hear a single thing you’ve said and talk about something entirely else. With his friendly but really eccentric personality, you couldn’t help but talk back to him. After spending some time together surrounded by cats, you learned that his name was Misumi Ikaruga and he was an actor at Mankai Company. You had to admit, he was an oddball but in a good way. Without you noticing he even convinced you to go and watch him act at the theater. After checking the time, you realized that you were going to be late to meeting with your friends, you quickly stood up. Giving him a one last wave, you turned ahead and started to walk towards your destination after making a mental note to buy a ticket for Summer Troupe’s next play.

➜ PERSONALITY COMPATIBILITY ; Misumi is probably one of the most friendly guy you can come across and he doesn’t really mind if you’re quiet at first because he can literally talk for hours about anything and everything. He doesn’t judge people or anything for that matter so it’s impossible for him to find you indifferent. He’s like the sun honestly, so I bet before you know it, you’d be comfortable enough to be your true self around him. He’s extremely energetic so good luck matching his energy level. Don’t worry about not initiating physical affection because Misumi is able to initiate it enough for the two of you. Sometimes, when he's passing you by he will kiss your cheek, then run out the door. Other times he'll surprise you and give you a kiss in the weirdest places. Your back is turned towards him, he will hug you and rest his chin on your shoulder or head, depending on your height. You prefer to make stuff for people you care about? Please, please, PLEASE make him a triangle. He will keep it by his side and treasure it until his last breath. It might even have equal value with his triangle ruler that his grandfather gave him.

➜ SHARED ACTIVITIES ; Well aside from your regular triangle hunting, befriending every single animal you’ve come across has became your ritual at this point since your boyfriend is basically an animal magnet. Like, you’d be walking together and cats, dogs or even birds would follow you two. You’re extremely lucky in that department since you love animals very much. If the weather is bad, two of you would do triangle crafts together. He absolutely loves your artistic abilities and how you can make the best triangles. Yes, you’ve even superpassed Kazunari in his eyes. A big accomplishment if you ask me. Onigiri making is also something you regularly do together. Not gonna lie, he makes the best onigiris in the entire world. He might even superpass Omi when it comes to onigiri making. Well, aside from typical Misumi activities, he’d also take you on normal dates like park & beach walks, moon gazing at night, cat cafes and so on. Honestly, everything you do together is fun. You make him feel loved and wanted, something only his grandfather did. Having someone like you there for him made him realize how lonely he had felt, please just protect this precious boy.

➜ ZODIAC COMPATIBILITY ; Misumi’s birthday is on June 6 which makes him a Gemini. Leo x Gemini love match is an equation that hits off right from the very first time these two individuals converse with each other. The charm and intelligence of the Gemini attracts the Leo like a moth to a flame. At the same time, the confidence and conspicuousness of the Lion is enough to blow the the Twins away. Both Gemini and Leo signs know how to flirt and are extremely compatible with each other from the word go. They love to talk about all the topics in the world and their communication is free-flowing, intellectual, fun and without any barriers. The immense loyalty of the Leo makes the Gemini feel comfortable in their own skin. On the other hand, the Twins has no problem in catering to the Lion's need for flattery and admiration. Leo gets a lot of attention from Gemini, and thus gives everything to their relationship in turn, which makes their equation tick from the very beginning. This is one of the most compatible pairings in the zodiac chart and if the minor friction is handled with maturity by both the parties, the Leo and Gemini compatibility relationship can last a lifetime. A lifetime, which will be filled with love, happiness, and success.

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas… Chapter 23: December 24, 2038

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble; OC Therin Thomson; Javic Thane; Gray Thane; OC Tianza; the TARDIS; OC Abby Tyler-Milne;

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations; life threatening illness; original characters

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Jackie decides to make Ugly Christmas Jumpers for everyone in the family.

Notes: Wow! Another chapter that got away from me! LOL And boy, did this one put up a fight.

To my betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci: once again, this chapter would not be what it is without you. You gave me inspiration (which I still feel guilty about!) and we had many, many discussions about lots of things to get me through this, including a particularly hilarious discussion about aliens (I’m dying laughing just thinking about it now… I don’t know why I find it so funny, I just do!) Just thank-you, both, for always being there when I need you, and putting up with my whinging. I love you both!

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Santa and/or Elves.

I know it’s the middle of April, but since the weather outside (here in Ontario) is still frightful, I don’t feel too guilty about posting part of my Christmas story. I have eight more chapters to go for the full 31 Days of Ficmas. I’m not sure if I will post any more through the year, or just write them and post them at Christmastime in December. I’ll see how it goes… ;D

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2038

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum never does anything by halves. When Jackie Tyler sets her mind on something, she doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right in; she takes the bull by the horns and beats it into submission. God help anyone or anything standing in her way. Just ask the Doctor…

(On second thought, best not. He might not take it too well, especially not after… well, you’ll see.)

Anyroad, ever since we welcomed my little niece, Abby, into our lives last autumn, Mum’s been on a knitting rampage. She taught herself. She started out with little things like baby mitts and booties, but quickly progressed to sweet little cardigans and jumpers. And she’s gotten really good! My very favourite one was an adorable navy-blue jumper with the words “I LOVE MY DADDIES!” emblazoned across the front in big, pink letters. Tony and Noah (the proud Daddies in question) loved it too, and dressed little Abby in it all the time, until summer came along, and they were forced to admit it was too hot for her to wear it anymore!

This year, sometime around August, Mum’s knitting took a rather… erm… dangerous turn. Stand aside, Molly Weasley: Jackie Tyler announced she was intending to knit jumpers for all of the Tyler clan, and their significant others, this Christmas.

And not just any jumpers: Ugly Christmas Jumpers. 

She only told me and Dad, not wanting to spoil the “surprise” for everyone else. Honestly, we just had to grit our teeth and tell her what a “great idea” it was. It wasn’t like it would’ve made any difference if we’d told her how we really felt. Besides, this way we were likely avoiding the pain of a good hard smack, and months of her patented Jackie Tyler silent-not-silent treatment.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d told us about it because she was actually seeking our approval. No, we were to be models, though I rather think guinea-pigs would be a more apt description. Honestly, as Christmas approached, I was seriously beginning to think it would have been better to shut the entire Ugly Jumper Project down in its early stages and endure whatever punishment Mum might have dished out, but at that point, we were in too deep to turn back.

The worst part of the whole process was Mum constantly calling me throughout the autumn to come over to the mansion to try something on, or to bring over jumpers the kids had left behind when they came to visit, so she could compare the sizing with what she was knitting. To be honest it got to be a bit tedious very quickly, but I could hardly say no to her when she was throwing her heart into it. Besides, this way I was able to keep an eye out and nix any design I thought wouldn’t go down very well with the intended recipient.

But, the jumpers were, for the most part, not too bad. They were beautifully designed and made. I was honestly quite impressed. Most of them either featured a cute character like a snowman or penguin or something like that, or they were the traditional Fair Isle design, with rows of little repeating Christmas characters and symbols in garish colours. Regardless of the pattern, all of them had some sort of saying on them, like Joy to the World, ‘Tis the Season, or Let It Snow.

“Soooo, which one is mine,” I asked.

“Never you mind, little madam. For your information, I ‘aven’ started it yet. And even if I ‘ad… as if I would spoil the surprise.”

I suddenly had a horrible thought. Cold dread washed over me. “Erm… what about the Doctor’s…?” Ever since he had revamped her dishwasher to sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer seven or eight Christmases ago, Mum had been out for revenge. Not that she would admit it. From the look she gave me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew better.

“Oh, I’m tryin’ to come up with jus’ the right pattern for ‘im. I’ve a couple in mind.”

“Muuuuum, don’t do anything rash, yeah?”

“Oh, honestly Rose, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I’m jus’ tryin’ to create a little Christmas cheer.”

“Oi! I’m the one stuck in the middle of you and the Doctor and your flippin’ Christmas cheer. Me and Dad!”

She ignored me, of course, and did a complete about-face on the topic. “Oh, speakin’ of your Dad… I got his jumper finished. What d’ya think?” She held up a dark green jumper, with a comical Santa body on it. The pattern stopped at the collar, so Dad’s head would be taking the place of Santa’s head (your head, Santa!) The words Ho Ho Ho were knitted in bold yellow letters below Santa’s feet. “I’ll get ‘im to wear a Father Christmas ‘at and all!”

I had to laugh. “Good luck with that!”

“’E’ll do it if ‘e knows w’at’s good for ‘im!”

“That’ll make for more of your Christmas cheer, then…”

“Oh, don’t ya worry; I’ll make it worth ‘is while.”  She winked at me. “There’ll be plenty of Christmas cheer and bells a jinglin’ around ‘ere.”

“Mum! TMI!”

“Since when ‘ave you been such a prude? I mean, jus’ look at the way you and ‘imself carry on.”

“Yeah, but there are certain things I really, really do not need to know. And that, right there: that tops the list! Look, I gotta run. Dad’s asked me to give a presentation this afternoon.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… Oh, Rose, wait a mo’. I meant to ask: Charlie, is she seein’ someone regular these days? Will she be bringin’ a date for Christmas Eve? I’ll need to make ‘im or ‘er a jumper too, yeah, whoever they are.”

“I dunno, Mum. I never know with that one these days. I worry… a lot.”

“She’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’s jus’ a phase. ‘Sides, she’s nearly twenty years old. I don’t need to remind ya w’at you were up to at ‘er age… gallivantin’ around with that bleedin’ alien. Not that you cared a fig about my worries!”

“Mum…”

“She’s jus’ like you in so many ways, so bloody-minded.”

“That isn’t helping, Mum! I jus’ hope you’re right… about it being a phase. Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definite about her bringing a date.”

“An’ in the meantime, I’ll knit an extra generic sort of jumper, jus’ in case.” Mum must have noticed I was about to protest, because she cut me off before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth. “Nah, don’t worry; Lor’ knows, it’s no trouble. After all, Therin might still decide to bring someone, too, and I’ll need one for ‘er. Best to be prepared.”

“All right. Suit yourself. See ya soon. Love ya.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door, the problem of Charlie weighing heavily on my mind.

--ooOoo--

That night as I was standing at the stove making supper, the Doctor came up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gave me a lovely kiss behind the ear. It was just what I’d needed. I’d been wound up all day.

“Penny for ‘em? You’ve been doing (might I say) a piss poor job of shielding your emotions.”

“That obvious, was it?”

“Yup.” He squeezed me tighter and gave me another tender little kiss. Even without our telepathic bond, I expect he would have figured out something was wrong. And I really had been sloppy about keeping my worry contained. To be honest, I’d been hoping he’d notice. “You could have just told me if something was bothering you.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, giving the sauce another stir. “I know. You’ve just been so stressed lately.”

The Doctor had been called in to help with seventeen frightened and violent Trumhurgi whose ship had crashed in Torquay. They were badly injured, and the Doctor was the only one who had any decent knowledge about their unusual physiology. It had been two months of providing medical care for them, sometimes round-the-clock for several days running. He’d been training Torchwood physicians and nurses as well, but it all took time. In addition, he’d been consulting about repairs on the Trumhurgi ship, and travelling back and forth in the TARDIS, obtaining spare parts and contacting worried family members, carrying their messages and even bringing them back to Earth to visit their recuperating relatives.

I’d been working on the case too, but I was helping out the traumatized humans who’d been caught up in the original crash and the violent, defensive outburst that had followed. Shots had been fired and, by some stroke of luck, there had been no deaths, but it had been a close call. Fortunately, I had a huge, experienced team at my command, so my end of the job had been a lot easier than the Doctor’s.

“I’m all right, love,” the Doctor assured me, as we dished up our supper and sat down at the table. It was the first time in weeks we’d actually been able to eat together. “Besides, by end of this week the last of the Trumhurgi go home in their very own, working-better-than-ever ship! Let’s have tonight be about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now spill. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s Charlie. I’m worried. I didn’t tell you about it because… well, the Trumhurgi… but Javic dropped by shortly after all that happened… with news.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened reflexively, but he waited for me to continue. “It seems Charlie has been taking a page out of Javic’s book, recently. She’s been, erm… let’s just say ‘embracing her sexuality’… a lot!”

“And he knows this how?”

“Well he ran into her at one of his favourite… spots.”

I sensed the Doctor’s anger flare, white hot. “He didn’t touch−”

“God, no! In fact, he’s sort of taken her under his wing, so to speak. Made sure she’s stayed away from all the dangerous places.”

The Doctor growled. He looked like he was fighting really hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes flashed at me. It had been a long time since I’d been a target for the Oncoming Storm. It was properly frightening (and more than a bit thrilling!) “And you… you never thought to tell me? This? About our daughter?”

“You were so busy. And it’s not like−”

He launched himself out of his chair with a roar. “You kept this from me?”

Reflexively, I shrank back into my seat, like some timid little creature. “I’m sorry.”

He began to pace, tugging at his hair. Each time he passed me, he opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mental shields were locked in place and impenetrable.

After five long minutes, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t my habit to let him intimidate me and I wasn’t about to chicken out now; history told me, it was far better to confront him, not let him get away with his bullying behaviour. “Doctor, stop! Enough. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me!”

“That’s was the point of having this conversation, yeah? Sit!”

He did as I asked, shoving his plate away from him, across the table. I grabbed onto his hand before he could move it, pouring my love through our bond. I was gratified when his shields began to give; it was only a little, but it was a beginning.

“Any other information you want to impart?” he bit out.

“Well… apparently she has one of Wilfred’s Vortex Manipulators, so… erm… she’s dancing through time and space.”

“Bloody hell!” He moved to stand again, but I held firm to his hand. He glared daggers at me. “Let go! We have to−”

“Have to what, Doctor? What do you propose we do? You’re not going to go storming in there like the Great Exterminator!”

“Try me!”

“This is Charlie… intimidation has never worked on that kid, and it’s not about to this time, either. We need to be rational and calm and supportive.”

“Supportive! But she’s−”

“I know. And Javic has been keeping an eye on her. He’s making sure she checks in with him, and he assures me she’s doing… fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t imagine Javic’s definition of ‘fine’ is quite the same as ours.”

I had to admit (but only to myself) I’d been thinking much the same way, though I knew Javic: he’d go to the ends of creation to protect any of us. “Hope’s been keeping in touch with her too,” I offered, hoping to appease the Doctor.

“Well that, that is a bloody recipe for disaster!” His anger flared.

Again, I had to agree with him, Santa. For all that she means well, Hope tends to get a bit bossy with her younger siblings. She’s mellowed over the years, but still… My arguments were crumbling around me. “You’re right. Let’s go!”

“What?”

“Let’s go… TARDIS. You. Me. Chat with our daughter.”

“But I thought you said...?”

“Changed my mind.”

--ooOoo--

Charlie, it turns out, was not thrilled to see us. I hadn’t been expecting a joyous family reunion or anything, but I think it would have gone a lot better if the Doctor hadn’t barged up to the bar where she was cheerfully chatting up some green-skinned bloke, waving his psychic paper around like some crazed maniac and bellowing to said bloke that Charlie was under-aged (an outright lie… on that planet) and if he didn’t want to find himself in a whole heap of trouble he’d better scram. He’d then grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled her out of the building and into the TARDIS.

To say Charlie was furious was the understatement of the year! She was ranting on about how it was bad enough her “puritanical” sister was on her case, but the fact that we were now interfering in her life as well incensed her to no end.  She only finally calmed after I ordered the Doctor out of the TARDIS. I would deal with him later.

In the end, there was very little I could actually do other than let Charlie know we’d both be there for her if she ever needed us. She assured me she was fine: having fun; being careful; and not doing anything too wild (and “bloody hell, Mum, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you… it’s just wrong…”.) I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t put myself in that mindset, and I told her as much.

“It’s just such a relief to be able to have fun and feel good without any obligations. I have so many obligations, Mum. School, Hand in Hand, work... This makes me feel, well free.”

Oh, Santa, it was then I realized how much that little girl (young woman) had taken on in her young life.

She must have seen the look of horror on my face. She grabbed my hand, and our familial bond snapped into place. She read me like an open book. “Mum, don’t you dare feel guilty. You never, ever pressured me, any of us, to do anything we didn’t want. You encouraged us in the best way possible, you… and Dad.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at the mention of her father.  “This is just my way of letting go a bit, taking time for me. Can you understand that?”

“Course I can, love. I worry, that’s all. Promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And listen to Javic.”

“Muuuuum! I know!”

“Now, since we spoiled your evening with that young man, how about we take you out to supper, yeah?”

“That sounds great! And don’t worry too much about my evening. He was a bit of a tosser, anyway. I was just about to walk out when Dad came barging in like some daft Onidsessi on pep pills. Urrrgh,” she groaned, “promise you’ll never let Dad near pep pills. Can you imagine…?”

“Oh, god, your Dad… he’s out there… Not on pep pills, but you know as well as me, he’s quite capable of stirring up all kinds of trouble without them if he gets a bit bored.”

Thankfully the Doctor hadn’t been stirring up trouble. We found him, pacing back and forth in front of the TARDIS doors. Charlie skipped right over to him, stopping him in his tracks and planting a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile. We might all drive one another completely mental sometimes, but there was no lack of love in our little family, and this incident had assured me our children always knew we would be a safe haven for them whenever they needed it.

With all our emotions running high, I never remembered to ask Charlie if she was bringing home a friend at Christmas, so Mum could plan an appropriate jumper. At this point, though, I didn’t imagine there would be anyone special, given that she seemed to be determined to stay away from serious relationships for the time being.

I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Santa, I need to run. We’re all at Mum’s tonight, and the jumpers have finally been unveiled. There were a few… complications. And I’m running interference! I’ll try to explain later.

Blimey! There goes the Doctor, now, and he looks far too happy for anyone’s good, especially considering…  Look, Santa, I gotta go! I’ll finish this letter up later.

--ooOoo--

Santa, I’m back, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m going to begin. A lot of stuff went down tonight. A lot of stuff.

Mum was just itching to hand out her Ugly Jumper parcels to everyone; I couldn’t get her to sit still, she was so excited. We were still waiting for Charlie to arrive and for Tony, Noah, and Abby, too. The Doctor had gone to collect Charlie in the TARDIS. Mum was bouncing off the walls.

Thank goodness my brother and his family decided to show up just after the Doctor left. Entertaining Abby was keeping Mum rather brilliantly distracted, and it meant I didn’t need to entertain Mum. As it turned out, it was just as well Mum was preoccupied, because it gave her time to ease into meeting Charlie’s plus-one which turned out to be a bit of a shock for her, just not for the immediately obvious reason…

The lovely, familiar sound of the TARDIS filled the room about fifteen minutes after Tony arrived. She landed in her customary corner of Mum’s living room, wearing her traditional Blue Box disguise, but topped with festive snow and icicles, and a colourful wreath on her door. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze with raised eyebrows and a little prickle of warning through our bond. He was being very guarded, not sharing any specific thoughts or images, and that made me distinctly uneasy.

Charlie followed him and was tugging behind her what could only be her date for the evening. The creature seemed to unfold itself from the TARDIS. It was very tall and rail thin. Charlie was holding onto one of its appendages, a hand of sorts, at the end of one of its four upper limbs, formed from an assortment of tentacle-like structures. “C’mon Hrau-Ard,” Charlie coaxed. “You’re gonna love my family! Hell, you and Dad are already like best mates!”

“Possibly a bit of an exaggeration seeing as we only met six minutes ago,” the Doctor countered, allowing Charlie and Hrau-Ard to step in front of him, “but he seems like a fine chap, I have to say.”

It took me a moment to get over my shock. Now, let me be clear, Santa, I have no trouble with interspecies relationships… I mean look at my darling husband, not exactly human for all he looks it. It’s just that Charlie, for all her sexual experimentation has never strayed far from standard humanoid partners before... at least according to Javic’s accounts. That’s why I needed to collect my thoughts before I moved forward to greet our new guest.

“Hello,” I smiled up into the creature’s majestic face. And majestic it was, by any standards… beautiful. Trust Charlie to pick a gorgeous date! A long muzzle, with an expressive mouth on the end, swooped up into a spectacular curved crest above it’s head. The crest had two main parts, a longer one below and a shorter part above. Its face morphed gradually from a rich teal colour at the muzzle to a deep indigo at the tips of the crests and was edged with many sensory tentacles and filaments. Two large purple eyes bulged above the snout, and several secondary eyes protruded from either side of the crests, set on stalks which were each adorned with several metallic rings. “I’m Rose Tyler, Charlie’s mum.” I held my hands out, spread open before me in the universal sign of peaceful greeting.

The creature bowed its head to me and dropping Charlie’s hand, held all four of it’s tentacle-tipped upper limbs out, mirroring me. Its fluting voice emanated from the crests. “Christmas greetings to you, Rose Tyler. My name is Hrau-Ard. It is lovely to meet you.”

“He’s male… mostly,” Charlie informed me, “so it’s okay to use ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Hrau-Ard piped in, bowing his head to me again, “Those pronouns seem to be the most accurate.”

Before I could respond to Hrau-Ard, Charlie impatiently snagged the hand she’d been holding earlier and tugged him past me. “Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family!”

He hooted in surprise, his long tan-coloured tunic billowing and brushing me as he passed. It dropped halfway down his two legs and contrasted spectacularly with the blues and greens of his skin and had an opening in the back through which a pair of wing-like appendages extended. They were bright turquoise and filmy (too delicate to be proper wings) and vibrated as he moved.

I admit, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Mum’s incredulous expression as she met him. She passed Abby back to Noah, and looked Hrau-Ard up and down, offering him all the appropriate greetings. She had come a long way since her “bog-monster” days on the Estate and was extremely well-versed in alien diplomacy. After all, she’d welcomed plenty into her home over the years. But, despite all her training and experience, she was still my mum, and I nearly choked when she repeated his name back for clarification: “Howard? Your name is Howard?”

With a low whistle of approval and if the TARDIS was translating properly, amusement, Hrau-Ard inclined his head, his facial filaments bobbing with the movement. “I enjoy the way you say my name, Charlie’s Gran.”

“Oh, just call me Jackie, please. Howard! Of all the names!”

“Is this name of significance to you?”

Mum glanced nervously over to Pete, who was busy grilling Wilfred and Tianza about the medicinal properties of a Gallifreyan plant he was interested in using in a new Vitex drink.  “Oh, ‘e’s jus’ an old mate of mine.”

“Fine fellow! Liked fruit!” the Doctor enthused from the TARDIS door with a broad, toothy grin. “I borrowed his pyjamas and dressing gown once!”

“Well then,” Hrau-Ard bleeped, “I am honoured to be his namesake.”

“Oh, off the two of you go then.” Mum shooed Charlie and “Howard” off to meet Tony, Noah, and Abby. She fixed a glare at the Doctor, who had stepped up behind me. “See, there, Time Lump! A proper alien, tentacles and all! ‘E at least ‘as the decency to look the part.”

“So sorry to disappoint you with my lack of appendages, Jackie (after all, I live my life just to please you),” he snarked back at her. “Fortunately, as it turns out, there’s one Tyler who is rather fond of my one, rather impressive appendage, just the way it is.”

“All right, you two,” I cut off Mum before she had a chance to bite back, “it’s Christmastime, yeah? Peace on Earth. See, the halls are all decked,” I gestured around me, “merry and bright. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ooooh, I’d like to deck ‘is halls, all right…” Mum grumbled.

The Doctor leaned out around me to shoot another barb at Mum. “Is that your resting Grinch face, Jackie, or are you just happy to see me?”

Mum lunged at him, slapping-hand poised and ready. Fortunately for the Doctor, I was still in between the two of them. “Stop!”

“Cuddly as a cactus; charming as an eel… Mrs. Griii-inch” the Doctor sing-songed.

“STOP!” My shout silenced the room, everyone turning to stare at me.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Charlie cooed at Hrau-Ard, “that’s sorta their normal behaviour.”

“Look what you two made me do,” I hissed at Mum and the Doctor. “Be civil! Honestly!” Fed up, I made to leave the two of them and go to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine, when Mum caught me by the sleeve.

“Blimey, Rose!” she whispered at me. “That Howard fella ‘as wings!”

“Yeah, well spotted! And tentacles!”

“No, no, no! The wings! ‘E’ll never fit into any of my jumpers! Never! And ‘e’s so bleedin’ skinny and all. (Blimey, ‘e makes the Doctor look like a sumo wrestler, ‘e does!) The jumper I made would be…”

“Mum, you don’t need to worry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

She burst into tears. “But I wanted everyone to ‘ave… and now ‘e’ll be without something from me… An’ it’s Christmas…”

The Doctor stepped up, concerned. He put a gentle hand on Mum’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? If it’s what I said, Jackie… you know I was just taking the mick.”

“No, no, no… nothin’ like that, ya plum.” She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “I’m jus’ disappointed is all.” She excused herself and rushed off in the direction of the powder room.

“What was all that about?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you?”

“Oh, you know I can keep a secret, Rose! Besides, I know better than to cross Jackie Tyler by leaking sensitive information. C’mon, give.”

I explained to him about Mum’s dilemma, how she had knitted ugly Christmas jumpers for everyone (his face blanched, probably imagining what she might have created for him) and now because of Hrau-Ard’s unexpected physical attributes, none of the jumpers she had set aside would ever possibly fit.

“Well, I could help,” he suggested. “She’s probably not going to like it much, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan of it myself, but I have an idea that just might work… if she’s willing.”

--ooOoo--

Everyone was so busy with canapes and punch and cocktails they never noticed Mum and the Doctor bundling into the TARDIS and the TARDIS dematerializing. The TARDIS was proud to be showing off her new “Silent Mode”: there was only a little bit of a breeze to indicate she had ever been there. (My little darling.)

They had only been gone for about ten minutes before the TARDIS rematerialized and Mum burst through the doors, beaming and carrying a neatly wrapped parcel: Hrau-Ard’s gift. To my utter amazement, she turned back to stroke the TARDIS’ doorframe, planting a soft kiss on the blue wood. “Thank-you, sweetheart. You’re a wonder, you are.”

The TARDIS hummed in response, a wonderfully joyous sound, as Mum practically skipped over to the Christmas tree to tuck the present underneath.

The Doctor stepped up beside me, closing the TARDIS doors behind him. “They hit it off like a house on fire,” he told me, “the pair of them, thick as thieves. Turns out when your Mum was ill a few years ago, and I put her in stasis, the TARDIS kept her company in her mind; they became fast friends. Brilliant!” He grinned down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him as we followed Mum to the tree. Then he paused, and I glanced up at him to ask why we had stopped. The grin melted from his face. “Although… I don’t much like the idea of the two of them plotting against me behind my back.”

I just laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Blimey… you’re getting a bit paranoid! How long were you gone in your timestream?”

“Five and a half days, Rose. Five and a half days… with Jackie Tyler on my TARDIS! That’s enough to make anyone paranoid!”

I admit, Santa, I shamelessly started to laugh harder. “How did you ever survive?”

“After the first day, I learned pretty quick to keep my head down. I made myself scarce.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right.” I nudged him with my elbow. “They won’t plot against you…” (…much, I added silently.)

“I heard that!” He arched an irritable eyebrow at me. “Do you realize she’s got her own room, Rose? No, not room, suite! The TARDIS gave her an entire suite of rooms with her own telly and a little galley too!”

“Awww, that’s lovely.” I was warmed through that the TARDIS had welcomed Mum so enthusiastically. My darling husband, however, was another matter. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll protect you from any plotting. C’mon, we better hurry. I don’t think Mum will be able to contain herself much longer.”

Mum was gathering everyone together, so she could hand out her creations, and getting a bit shirty at people who weren’t paying attention, so I dragged the Doctor over by the hand and found a comfortable seat for us.

Content that everyone was present and listening to her, Mum spoke: “I’ve decided to start a new Tyler-family tradition: Ugly Christmas Jumpers! Made by yours truly.” She preened and there was a round of groans from the family and a perplexed hoot from Hrau-Ard. “Oi! They’re not really ugly… that’s jus’ w’at they’re called, yeah. See I’m wearin’ one.” She stood up to show off the jumper she was wearing. It was made of soft, silvery yarn and she had sewn tinsel across the front to form the words “Don’t get your tinsel in a twist,” in cursive script. Of course, she also had tinsel tied around her up-do. She looked sparkly and lovely. My Mum… She’s been through so much in her life, experienced so many odd things, and taken it all in stride; things that would make most people go completely loopy. I love her so much. I was positively chuffed to see her so happy, handing out brightly coloured parcels to all our family.

Dad was the first one to get his present, and he was a real sport about it, donning both his new Santa jumper and the Santa hat Mum had included in his parcel. Everyone burst out laughing when he stood up and smoothed his jumper down over his tummy, and said: “Do you think this makes me look fat? Ho-ho-ho!”

“Oh, sit down, you!” Mum admonished, but I could tell she was pleased as punch.

After that there was great excitement as we all opened our packages. Abby’s jumper was the cutest little thing, with an adorable gingerbread man wearing a Santa hat on a bright, red background. There were miniature gingerbread men down the sleeves and a few white strategically-placed snowflakes. I figure it’ll be a new favourite piece of clothing for her doting daddies!

Javic’s jumper featured a grumpy Santa reading his list of children’s names. The words “I’m at the top of Santa’s naughty list,” were emblazoned underneath. He was ecstatic, claiming it couldn’t have been more perfect. My jumper was… well, glorious in it’s tackiness! And I loved it! Oh, Santa, it was TARDIS blue, and a string of knitted fairy lights trailed all over it. In the middle, the fairy lights formed the words “Merry and Bright” and were lit up with little LEDs. Mum had outdone herself.

Hrau-Ard seemed uncertain what to do with his package, but Charlie soon sorted him out, helping him unwrap the gift. He held the jumper up in front of him, looking around at everyone else trying theirs on. He peered at the design on the front, all of his eyes trained on the bright patterns, and gave a long low hoot.

“Well, are ya goin’ to put it on, then?” Charlie prompted. “Here, I’ll help ya!” Together, the two of them made short work of slipping off Hrau-Ard’s tan tunic and replacing it with the jumper.

Hrau-Ard stood up out of his chair to show his jumper off. It was long, like the undertunic he wore, dropping to mid-thigh, and had perfectly aligned spaces for all four of his upper limbs and his wings.

“The TARDIS helped Jackie with the proper design and style, so it was compatible with his cultural expectations and with his body configuration,” the Doctor murmured in my ear. “She even provided all the yarn, if you can believe that!”

I took a closer look at the jumper. It featured an green-clad elf body on a scarlet background. Like Dad’s jumper, Hrau-Ard’s head took the place of the elf’s head. The words underneath said: “Take an ‘elfie with me!” It was hilarious! We were all in stitches, especially Hrau-Ard, who particularly appreciated the pun in the wording, and was honking with joy, and pulling out his mobile to take ‘elfies with everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice Therin was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He sat on the other side of the room glowering at Charlie and Hrau-Ard and their easy familiarity. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over Charlie. He still loved her, despite her obvious disinterest in him… at least as a romantic partner. My heart absolutely ached for him as he quietly trudged out of the room, wearing his Fair Isle T-rex jumper.

“I should go check on him,” I whispered to the Doctor.  

“Nah, he needs to work this out for himself, love. He can’t change what’s in his heart. He just needs time to come to terms with it.”

“I hate to see him so miserable though… I wish I could−”

“Oi!” Mum’s shriek of disapproval cut through my thoughts. “Where’s your jumper, then, Doctor?”

The Doctor shifted nervously next to me, and I felt his crushing fear in my mind. He picked at the wrapping paper on the package in his lap.  

“C’mon then, ya big baby! Open it up! I made it special, jus’ for you.”

“That… that’s what worries me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Here, I’ll help you,” I offered. Honestly, Santa, Mum was right. He was being a big baby about it. Coward every time. “Best get it over with, like ripping a plaster off.”

“I don’t like plasters, and I don’t like the sound of your mum saying, ‘special just for you’. That, right there, Rose, sends my entire brain into mauve status!”

“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Even as I said the words, I glanced over at Mum who was watching the Doctor with a piercing, self-satisfied eye, and I braced myself. “Never mind. Just get it over with, yeah.”

By this time, we had the attention of the whole room, and the Doctor in a less-than-convincing act of enthusiasm, tore away the wrapping paper in one fell swoop. He reached into the shredded paper and pulled out the jumper, holding it up gingerly. Santa, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I swear the tears were pouring down my face, and the Doctor was scowling at me.

I better explain. The torso and most of the arms of the jumper were mostly brown. Around the cuffs of the arms, and at certain places over the shoulders were knitted green leaves. Some of them also trailed over the torso and back. When we lifted the arms of the jumper, we found dangling from their undersides none other than beautifully crafted, little knit pears! Pears, Santa, which as I’m sure you know are the fruit the Doctor despises most in the universe… for reasons that have never been very clear to me.

The crowning glory was the gigantic bird sewn firmly to the left shoulder: a partridge.

Mum had given the Doctor a Partridge in a Pear Tree-themed jumper!

Strangely, the bird was not knitted but a small-scale but realistic model, complete with feathers… and that gave me pause for thought, and trust me when I say the thoughts were not optimistic for the Doctor…

“Well, w’at are you waitin’ for?” Mum barked. “Put it on, then?”

“What? You expect me to wear this travesty… this… this pitiable excuse for clothing? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, just put it on, Dad!” Hope cajoled from across the room. “We’re all wearing them.”

“Yours don’t have pears and a great bloody bird attached, do they?”

“The jumpers are splendid!” Hrau-Ard spoke up with an earnest honk. “This is the most comfortable piece of clothing I have ever owned. And it is humorous too. Doctor, you really should try yours.”

Mum just about melted on the spot at Hrau-Ard’s compliment. “Oh, Howard! You’re such a love. But, you’re just sayin’ that!”

“No, I am sincere, Jackie. It is perfect. I think I like Christmas. And Ugly Christmas Jumpers!”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll make you another for next year, yeah?

Howard… I mean Hrau-Ard hooted happily in response, and Mum turned her attention back to the Doctor, by which I mean, she glared daggers at him.

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded, “…if it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your harping,” he added under his breath. He stalked off to the downstairs loo, crushing the jumper in his clenched fist.

“I better go help him out…” I made my excuses and rushed off after him.

I heard Wilfred snickering to Hope, Gray, and Tianza, as I passed them. “Ten quid says they’re off for a snog… or worse.”

Hope just laughed. “No deal, little brother! That’s a sure thing.”

“Oi!” (I’m sorry, I had to protest!) “Enough out of you lot!”

“C’mon, Mum, face it,” Charlie interjected, “you two are an embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Wilfred agreed, “I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had to spring the two of you from prison for public indecency.”

“Oi, what’s this then?” Mum leaned in for more tidbits of information, and I cleared out of the room as fast as I could.

Exasperated, I knocked on the powder room door. “Doctor, it’s just me.”

He opened the door to let me in.

“Blimey, we’ll have to watch ourselves. That lot are making wagers on whether or not we shag in here, and they’re telling Mum all about our arrests…”

He groaned, sniffing in disdain. “Bloody brilliant! Christmas, an annual excuse for almost completely unfounded gossip and rumour.”

“Exactly!”

“And then there’s this…” He held up the jumper. “I don’t know why I have to put on this preposterous get-up?”

“Because as I recall, a few years back, you mucked about with Mum’s dishwasher. Now it’s payback time,” I reminded him. “C’mon then…” I helped him pull off the (sexy) red jumper he was currently wearing, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. “Tell you what, though: if you’re a good boy and put the jumper on, I will make it very much worth your while…”

“Oh, yes!”

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What? Right now?”

“I’ll make it quick… I know all your secrets.”

He growled at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be wanting another round later tonight, Tyler.”

“You think so, do ya?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favour. I’ll make you come so hard, your screams will be heard all the way to Gallifrey and back! Think you’re up for that?”

I gazed up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile and stroked him where he was now straining against the front of his trousers. “You’re on! But the real question is, can you manage not to scream? We don’t really need that lot making any more wagers at our expense.”

--ooOoo--

Sorry Santa, got off on a bit of a tangent there… It happens sometimes, as you’re well aware.

So… where was I? Oh, yeah, so fifteen minutes later, we came out of the loo. With my help (holding the partridge), we managed to get the jumper over the Doctor’s head. He looked very, very, extremely not happy, despite my recent… erm… display of affection. “I feel ridiculous!” he gritted out to me.

“It’s just for a few hours, love.” I patted his arm and took his hand for moral support and made bloody sure to conceal my amusement from him.

As we returned to the living room, out the corner of my eye, I was pretty certain I saw some money changing hands, although, to his credit, the Doctor had kept very quiet and I had checked that my hair and make-up were in order. Maybe they were wagering on whether he’d be wearing the jumper… Who knows?

Anyway, I had to agree with the Doctor’s assessment: the jumper did look more than a bit silly, but everyone cheered and laughed at it.  They were having so much fun over it, and the Doctor ended up being a good sport, showing it off, spreading his arms and making silly faces about the “vile” pears dangling from them.

I admit, I kept to myself the fact that I thought there had to be more to it than just a jumper with pears and a big, daft bird. Mum had waited years to get her revenge. She wasn’t about to let him off with something so… simple. I could only wonder what she had planned and when it would happen.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wonder very long.

It was only a few minutes later when Mum called us all over for supper. She, of course, had place-cards at every setting. The Doctor was sat between Hrau-Ard and Gray, somewhere in the middle of one long side of the table, and Mum and I were directly across from them. Charlie was on the other side of Hrau-Ard; Noah and Tony were sat on either side of Abby, who was in Tony’s old high chair at one end of the table; and Dad was at the other end. Everyone else was scattered randomly around.

As the first course was served, everyone began to chatter to one another. The Doctor seemed quite relaxed, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Mum’s eyes kept fixing on him as he made cheerful small talk to everyone around him. Her lips pursed reflexively every time he stopped talking. She tried a couple of times to get Dad to tell us about something that had happened at work, but he had insisted he didn’t want to talk shop. He was determined to take some time away from it.

“Fine,” Mum muttered under her breath, “just tryin’ to liven up the conversation. Honestly.”

“I thought we were having a lovely time,” I told her. “Everyone’s relaxed and chatting… well except Therin, but you know… What’s going on? You’re up to something. I know you. You never ask Dad about Torchwood.”

“Pfffft, don’t be daft! Course I ask ‘im. And jus’ w’at do you mean ‘up to somethin’’? W’at could I possibly be up to?” With that, she turned deliberately away from me and began speaking to Hope about the progress of the Lunar settlements and asking her how she was finding living on a base. “I don’ know if I could take it, yeah. No fresh air, being cooped up inside all the time. I think I’d lose my mind, yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes brightened as he responded to her. I was relieved he didn’t end up spewing out something rude about her already having lost her mind years back, which honestly seemed like it would be the natural course of the conversation. Instead, he launched into one of his diatribes about the environmental systems on the bases and how they purify the air.

With a smirk, Mum sat back in her seat to listen.

“…and remarkably, the fundamental design never changes from base to base, year after year. It’ll be centuries before someone gets the bright idea that basic human needs aren’t quite being met by–″ He was cut off when the partridge on his shoulder swung around and flapped its tail across his face. He frowned, spun the bird back around, and began to speak again.

This time the bird nipped his ear.

“Fuck!” he shouted in pain, which of course was mimicked loudly by Abby at the other end of the table.

“You dolt!” Mum snapped. “Now, look what you’ve done!”

“Oi! It’s your blasted bird that bit me! Oi! It just did it again!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giggles erupted from the little girl as her daddies tried to shush her, and everyone had a good laugh.

Except Mum (“Don’t be so stupid! It’s not a real bird, ya numpty!”); and the Doctor, who glowered at Mum but (remarkably) held his tongue.

“Mum,” I hissed at her, “it bit him. I saw it.”

“Bit him? Stuff and nonsense!”

The Doctor shook his head at me, and at his telepathic request, I decided not to pursue it any further.

Abby had calmed down again, her new word forgotten as quickly as it had come, and normal conversation resumed around the table as the main course was served. It wasn’t long before the Doctor had dived into a conversation about the most current medical breakthroughs with Gray and with Hrau-Ard, who was apparently training as a physician as well. They bantered back and forth for a short time and then the Doctor launched into a long discourse about the benefits of some sort of medical scanner or other. About a minute in, the bird wheeled around, slapping him in the face with its tail once more, and another few seconds after that, it bit him again.

“Right! Ow! Again, you bloody– Ow!” He dug into his trouser pockets for his sonic, threatening the bird with it. “Now, we’ll sort– Blimey! STOP! Ow!”

I glanced over at Mum who was chuckling away to herself, while everyone else was up, getting ready to help the Doctor. Oh, she knew exactly what was going on. And I had no doubt she had orchestrated it.

Hrau-Ard had stood up and was holding the bird still, his tentacled appendages wrapped around it securely. He was doing a great job keeping it from pecking at the Doctor’s ear, which seemed to happen every time he tried to talk.

Mum scoffed next to me. “Talks far too much, anyway, that one. Maybe this will teach ‘im to keep quiet and not monopolize the conversation.”

“So, this was you, then? How the hell did you...?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it only goes off when ‘e natters on for too long. It resets again after ‘e’s given our ears a bit of a break.”

“But…”

“Oh, I know a few of the folks down in Tech. They were quite ‘appy to do me a little favour, especially after ‘imself barged in there a month or so back and told ‘em they were sequencin’ somethin’-or-other all wrong.”

“He told me about that. It was all wrong!”

“Well, seems they didn’t like ‘is tone… all ‘igh and mighty and ‘I’m so clever’.”

I flopped back in my chair, and just shook my head. I returned my attention to the other side of the table where the Doctor had adjusted the settings on his sonic and was brandishing it at the animatronic bird.

“Oi,” Mum yelped, “don’t you damage my bird.”

“Priorities, Jackie! Your bloody bird is trying to damage me. Do you realize how hard I had to concentrate to get these ears… not to mention this hair?”

“It is really great hair,” I agreed.

“Oh, shush you!” Mum shot me a scathing look.

“Right then! Allons-y!” Heedless of my mum’s protests, the Doctor activated the screwdriver pointing it at his feathered attacker, and several things happened all at once.

The strangest screeching sound reverberated from Hrau-Ard’s crests in harmonics that mimicked the sonic. He lost his grip on the bird and doubled over, two of his appendages flying to his crests. “This tickles! This tickles! I think I am about to…”

The bird, freed from it’s confines, resumed its attack on the Doctor’s ear, feathers flying everywhere. The Doctor, fumbled his sonic screwdriver, caught it again, and made a quick adjustment to the frequency, constantly yammering and threatening the bird and Mum, not quite making the connection that if he just shut up, the stupid thing would stop pecking him. Finally finding an opening, he pressed the tip of the sonic to the bird’s breast, activating it with a triumphant “Ha!”

Hrau-Ard had resumed his composure once the sonic had stopped but started making that bizarre sound from his crests again once it was reactivated. His facial filaments were absolutely trembling. “It is happening again. I am going to… I am going to…″

The sound seemed to amplify the effects of the sonic. The hapless partridge stopped its attack, but its entire body began to pulse as the wailing hoots from Hrau-Ard’s crest intensified. Everyone was covering their ears, except the Doctor who had turned off the sonic, and was watching in horror, from the corner of his eye, the ominous pulsing of the bird on his left shoulder.

“I am going to–″ Hrau-Ard shouted, and his crests shrieked in a final eruption of noise, and the bird’s body suddenly exploded with a massive blast, sending feathers, sparks, and electronic gizmos everywhere.

“–sneeze,” Hrau-Ard hooted into the silence that had fallen over us all.

A long moment later, just as everyone was catching their collective breath, the Doctor yelped, as cinders from the explosion caught in his hair, causing it to smoulder and burn. “Ow, ow, ow! Blimey! My face! My hair!”

Abby started howling; everyone started shouting; I leaped across the top of the table to get to my poor husband; and Gray, the only one maintaining his composure, picked up a pitcher of ice water and dumped it over the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor sat there, completely stunned, as water dripped from his fringe into his face.

“Oh my God! Doctor!” I pulled his damp body against me, hugging him tight. “Are you all right?” I pulled back from the hug to look him in the face. I took in the angry red welts, the burned hair and…

He must have seen my astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“Your… your left eyebrow. It’s… it’s gone…”

“What? What?” His fingers flew to his brow, where the hair had been singed away. “WHAT?”

“And some of your hair… just up the left side…”

“Jackie Tyler!” he bellowed. He made to get up from his chair, but Gray shoved him back into it.

“Sit still! You have burns. I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator on them.”

“It won’t bring back my eyebrow, though, will it? My left eyebrow too. It’s my most expressive one,” he added wistfully.

Mum had come rushing around the table. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll cut your hair for ya, real nice. And your eyebrow will grow back again in no time, I expect.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will,” he said relaxing a bit. “And more expressive than ever! Makes you think, what would I ever do without eyebrows?” He shuddered at the thought. “And, Jackie, I have to admit, you couldn’t have known that the sonic would resonate with Hrau-Ard’s crests and make the bird explode like that. Though, I have to say, good riddance!”

“It is all my fault. I must apologize profusely,” Hrau-Ard hooted, his wings fluttering.

Mum protested, “Oh, no, Howard!”

“Nah, she’s right, Hrau-Ard,” the Doctor reassured him, “don’t be silly! But now I know not to use my sonic at that frequency in your presence.” He beamed. “Besides, what fun would Christmas be without a little bit of unexpected excitement?”

“At least there aren’t any blinkin’ killer Christmas trees, yeah?” Mum pointed out, as Gray finished up with the dermal regenerator.

“Oh yes! Too true. Looking on the bright side, Jackie. Do it while you can, because you know what…?” He bounded out of his chair, tore the remnants of the hapless partridge from his shoulder, and plucked the Santa hat from Dad’s head. He shoved it over his wet, scorched hair and with a wicked grin spreading over his face, he sang: “Jackie Tyler… you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Oh, God, Santa, the look on Mum’s face. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare…”

“And Santa isn’t happy, Jackie. Really, you better watch out…” He skipped away out of the dining room, heading directly for the kitchen.

Mum took off after him. “You stay away from my appliances. You’re a bleedin’ hellion, you are,” she shouted.

Hrau-Ard honked in alarm and pulled Charlie next to him, wrapping his tentacles around her.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlie sounded resigned, “you get used to it once you’ve been around this crowd long enough. We’re all a bit mental, but we all love one another.”

So, there it is, Santa. A typical Tyler-Noble Christmas!

I spent quite a while trying to intercept the Doctor before he did any damage to Mum’s kitchen... and other things. I actually found him mucking about in her en suite. Not sure if he managed to do anything before I caught up to him and got him back home, but at least I got to him before Mum did. Like I said before, he looks far too pleased with himself, despite the missing eyebrow and the singed hair. He must have left some sort of surprise behind for Mum. No doubt I’ll hear about it soon enough.

And right now, I’m just waiting for him to “return the favour” he promised me in Mum’s powder room earlier, something about making me scream so loud I’d be heard all the way to Gallifrey. He’s just spending an awful long time in the loo... probably trying out my eyebrow pencils, if I know him. Maybe later I’ll take the TARDIS out, go back a few days, and get him some of his own for his stocking before everyone gets up tomorrow morning.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Give my love to all. Sorry for going off on a bit of a tangent earlier. I was just lying here, waiting for the Doctor and thinking… Oh, I reckon you’re used to it by now, yeah. There’ve been a few tangents over the years and I haven’t had a lump of coal yet. But, just saying, if you feel the urge to leave a lump of coal in the Doctor’s and my mum’s stockings, by all means, go right ahead! I’m all for it!

                                                                                                                                 Love, Rose

[singingwordwright]

(Untitled) Rock Star AU: Chapter 2

I think I’m going to keep this on Tumblr for now, at least until I have enough written or at least plotted to commit to a regular update schedule on AO3. Then I’ll edit, have it beta’ed, and post it over there.

For now it’s just going to be a casual thing I update when I feel like it. And since we’re probably not going to get any more goodies for the show this week, this seems like a good time.

Chapter under the cut. See end for more notes.

You can read the first chapter here.

Magnus craned his head around to peer over the back of his chair. “Tell me you have news for me, Raphael.”

“I have news for you.” Even Raphael’s deadpan delivery wasn’t enough to quash Magnus’s joy at the announcement. He stared eagerly, expectantly, but Raphael just stood in the doorway of Ragnor’s office, stone-faced.

“You’re going to make me ask for it, aren’t you?”

Ragnor chuckled. “I’m sure he just figures the more opportunity he gives you to blather on and on now, the less he’ll be interrupted later.”

“I don’t blather,” Magnus sniffed, turning back to face him. “I’m simply concerned that any hype I managed to generate while I was on the show will die out before I release my damn album.”

“You have to stop worrying about that,” Raphael said calmly. “Getting people excited for you is a job for Idris Records’ marketing department now, as well as your eventual publicist. Your job is making music. Let them find the audience for it”

Magnus clenched his fists to keep from wrapping them around Raphael’s throat. “But I’m not currently making any music, am I? Because I don’t have a band!”

“Tsk tsk. Be kind to your voice now,” Ragnor chided. “We don’t want to have to put you in vocal therapy before you’ve even produced your first single.”

They were winding him up. The damnable part of it was that Magnus knew they were winding him up but it was fucking working anyway.

“Did Santiago-Fell Talent get a sizable portion of my advance from the label or not?” he asked softly, gritting his teeth. “If you did, then I’m paying you to find me a band, so tell me you’ve found me a band!”

Raphael strolled into the office and slid into the other chair facing Ragnor’s desk with his usual silent, almost otherworldly grace. “We haven’t exactly found you a band...”

Magnus threw his hands in the air, wishing he had something to fling. “Seriously?”

“...But we may have found you something better.”

Magnus glanced from Raphael to Ragnor, who wore a cat-in-the-cream smile and was practically rubbing his hands together in glee. Clearly whatever news Raphael was baiting Magnus with, Ragnor already had the scoop on.

“This is why you don’t hire friends to be your agents,“ Magnus muttered.

They continued to stare at him.

“I’m waiting,” he sing-songed, hoping his bared teeth looked more like a smile and less like he was ready to literally bite one of them.

Ragnor folded his hands under his chin. “How would you feel about singing for The Nephilim?”

Magnus blinked. Then blinked again. That satisfied smile never left Ragnor’s face.

He glanced over at Raphael, who lifted his eyebrows in a silent, yes he’s serious.

“The Nephilim?” Magnus shook his head in confusion. “What in God’s name makes you think that would ever work?”

Ragnor frowned, looking affronted. “You like The Nephilim.”

“Yes I do. They’re catchy as hell and it’s obvious they’re exceptionally talented musicians whose music has been dumbed down by the label to make them more marketable in their target demographic. But when they dropped their first single, Alec Lightwood was the only one of them old enough to vote. Max’s voice hadn’t even changed yet. Their audience is, like, tween pop. Which is fine, because they make really good tween pop, but that’s not my audience.”

“Reality check: you don’t have an audience yet,” Raphael pointed out. “Your popularity is based on performing covers.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Okay fine. But they were covers of harder, edgier songs meant to appeal to a more mature audience. That’s the demographic I’ve been targeting.”

“It could also very well be the demographic the surviving members of The Nephilim want to capture moving forward after their tragedy,” Ragnor said, and leaned back in his chair.

Raphael nodded. “They’re rebranding. And I don’t just mean they’re trying to expand their repertoire or gradually change their sound. We’re not talking about The Beatles’ psychedelic/experimental period from Rubber Soul onward. I mean that The Nephilim are actually retiring. The surviving members are seeking a drummer and lead singer to form a new band from the ground up. I’ve been talking with Isabelle Lightwood all week and she says they’re looking for an entirely new sound and image.”

“Let’s not forget, either, that The Nephilim’s original audience is all grown up now,” Ragnor pointed out. “They are presently torn between a shameful affection that they just can’t shake for their dreamboat adolescent idols and self-consciousness over their fluffy tween pop phase. They want edgier, more mature music as well. Remaking themselves may be the only way Alec Lightwood and Simon Lewis can hold on to their audience.”

“And Jace Herondale,” Magnus added.

Raphael shrugged. “He’s a talented bassist but everyone knows The Nephilim owe their success to Lightwood and Lewis’s songwriting.”

“Herondale is also the potential downside to this whole scheme,” Ragnor said darkly. “If he doesn’t emerge from his stint in rehab fully reformed, the new band could have a very big problem on its hands.”

“The sobriety pledge Lightwood and Lewis are asking the new members is promising. Rumor has it, Morgenstern was the real bad apple,” Raphael said with a slight grimace.

“Or he was just the fall guy—” Ragnor began, but Magnus cut him off.

“Sobriety pledge?”

Raphael gave him a knowing look. “Isabelle was quite moved by your tweet thread about responsible indulgence.”

“And I was being perfectly sincere, but that doesn’t mean I plan to stop drinking entirely!”

“Not entirely. Just when you’re in the studio with the band. Or on the road with the band. Or socializing or attending events with the band.” Ragnor really was taking far too much pleasure in Magnus’s spluttering.

“I would be delighted to disembowel either or both of you right now,” Magnus gritted, glaring from one to the other.

“Does that mean I should tell Isabelle we’re not interested?” Raphael asked, smirking.

Magnus narrowed his eyes. “Scratch that. Disembowelment is too good for you. Of course I’m interested. Jackass.”

“Good choice.” Raphael pulled out his phone, his bland expression conveying how unimpressed he was by his impending evisceration. “They want you in the studio with them ASAP. I’ll set up a time and text you the location.”

Entering the soundproofed studio in the walk-in basement of Simon Lewis’s modest Los Feliz house sent an unaccustomed frisson along Magnus’s nerves. Which was ridiculous, because Magnus Bane did not get nervous. Magnus Bane did not get stage fright. Magnus Bane had never once so much as stammered during his stint in that stupid competition show, despite there being a new celebrity guest judge and guest performer every week.

He simply hadn’t ever anticipated that he would need to impress the musicians he ended up working with. He’d assumed they’d be hired specifically to work with him, not the other way around. This felt less like walking into a jam session and more like walking into an audition, only more momentous. The auditions for the so-called reality show hadn’t ever made him feel this way.

But then he hadn’t really cared about the outcome of the competition. His goal had only been to make it on stage for at least a few rounds, where he knew he could turn in performances that would jump-start his social media following. Everything had worked according to plan until the moment Raphael and Ragnor decided to hold off locating backup musicians for him and instead floated this notion of integrating with the remnants of The Nephilim.

Isabelle Lightwood had answered the door for him, and she was every bit as impressive as industry gossip had touted. She slipped her arm through his, leading him down a short hallway into the studio. “Alec is running a few minutes late, but I’ll introduce you to Simon, Jace, and the new drummer. Beware of Simon, he’s a talker and also a big fan.”

A talker and big fan, Magnus could handle. He was more concerned about Jace, who seemed a little pale and gaunt, obviously still underweight despite having spent 60 days at what Magnus was sure must have been a top-notch rehab that was probably as much a health spa as a place to convalesce post-detox. Ragnor’s point about Jace—despite Raphael’s attempt to deflect him from the subject—hadn’t missed Magnus.

Jace was the person here most likely to torpedo this whole endeavor before it ever got off the ground. They would need to watch him very, very closely.

Magnus shook hands with both of them, smiling blandly at Simon’s cheerful babble. Jace, despite his famed charm and notoriously fun-loving, laid-back attitude, was subdued and seemed almost nervous. Watching from the corner of his eye as Jace tuned his bass, Magnus wondered if maybe he wasn’t the only one who was aware of how much of their potential to succeed or fail rested on Jace’s shoulders.

That was a hell of a lot of pressure to bear, especially when someone was trying to stay clean.

“—And this is Luke Garroway, who has done some amazing studio work for Pack Howl and just finished touring with The Clave after their drummer had to have rotator cuff surgery,” Isabelle said brightly as Simon bounced on the balls of his feet, beaming at Luke.

Magnus leaned carefully across the drum kit to extend his hand. “Glad I’m not the only new face here. Was that you on Pack Howl’s latest album? Because I was blown away by the drums when I listened to it. Great work.”

“That was totally him!” Simon enthused before Luke could do more than smile and murmur his thanks. “Wasn’t ‘Prowl’ a great track? Man, I had that on repeat for weeks.”

“Absolutely.” Magnus nodded eagerly. “In fact, it sort of influenced some of the ideas I was tossing around for the theme I wanted for my first album—when I thought I was going to be doing it solo, of course.”

“Yeah, like what?” Simon asked, apparently not at all affronted by the idea of hearing Magnus’s ideas, even though he and Alec Lightwood had always been the creative minds behind The Nephilim’s music. Magnus would have expected him to be more territorial, but instead he seemed genuinely curious, glancing back and forth between Magnus and his equipment as he slung his guitar strap over his shoulder and plugged it into an amp.

“Well, I was considering—”

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” a new voice called.

Alec Lightwood, all six-feet-whatever of tall, dark, and handsome, literally had to duck through doorway. Basements tended to be a little low to start with, and the thick layer of acoustic paneling soundproofing the studio meant that Alec’s head nearly brushed the ceiling.

He looked different than he did in concert and interview videos, of course. Instead of being gelled into a calculatedly careless tousle, his hair looked fluffy, hanging across his brow, and his t-shirt and jeans were a little less tailored to cling to his torso and legs than the ones he wore on stage.

Somehow, that made him look more scrumptious, rather than less.

Before anyone could greet him, a tiny human who barely seemed to reach Alec’s knees streaked past him into the room. “Aunt Izzy! Uncle Jace! Uncle Simon! I lost my first tooth!”

“Hey, Gid, my man!” Simon crowed. “Gimme knucks.” The pint-size newcomer fist-bumped him and then showed Simon something resting in his palm. “Oh yeah, let’s see it. Awesome, that’s a big one! Is the Tooth Fairy bringing you money?”

Small fists balled up to rest on small hips. “Tooth Fairy?” Gideon gave his aunt a look as if to say, Is this guy for real?

“What?” Simon spluttered indignantly. “No one’s ever told you about the Tooth Fairy? Alec, what kind of upbringing are you giving this kid?”

“The kind that doesn’t involve extorting money for every tooth he loses?” Jace interjected quietly, and that bit of banter with Simon was the first remark Magnus had heard him make that sounded like the Jace Herondale he knew from TV and web interviews. He rubbed Gideon’s head briskly, and his smile seemed a little more solid than it had before.

Predictably, the kid only latched onto a single word of that. “Money?” He glanced up—way up—at his dad. “The Tooth Fairy will bring me money?”

“Uh, um, yeah, totally,” Alec said, sounding flummoxed. Then he folded down into a tight squat to get on his son’s level, and something about seeing him do that made Magnus’s heart flop over in his chest. “Hey, buddy, remember what we talked about? You’re going to be in the control booth with Aunt Izzy. She’ll tell you all about the Tooth Fairy and fill me in later. Got your coloring books and tablet? Okay. Don’t come out of the booth while we’re playing. It’s gonna be too loud for little eardrums.”

“‘Kay, Dad.” Gideon smiled a gap-toothed grin. Alec kissed his forehead, then stayed squatting as his son took Isabelle’s hand and disappeared into the sound booth. Only when they were gone did Alec take his eyes off them and rise.

“No school today?” Jace asked, clapping Alec on the shoulder before returning to his bass.

“Some sort of teacher in-service day. Lydia has meetings and his after-school nanny is sick,” he said with a sigh, brushing his hands on his jeans. The left, Magnus noticed, as now devoid of the wedding ring Alec was known for always wearing. His divorce had barely been a whisper on the gossip blogs after the more sensational scandal of Max Lightwood’s death and Jace Herondale’s trip to rehab.

Then Alec turned to face Magnus, and the sight of him full-on drove the breath from Magnus’s lungs. He had always assumed the gold-flecked hazel of Alec’s eyes and the lushness of his long, dark lashes were the product of really good lighting and makeup in photo shoots, but if anything Alec was more striking up close and personal.

“Hi, you must be Magnus.” Alec smiled bashfully and that, too, was a revelation. He was known for being the serious one, the grown-up whose straight-man act tempered Jace’s fuckboy flirtiness, Simon’s class clown routine, and Max’s puppylike excitability. Magnus wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Alec smile in an interview, and in the photoshoots where he did so, it always seemed a little forced.

This? This was the real deal, up close and personal.

Color crept up Alec’s cheeks and Magnus realized he was staring. He extended his hand.

“Sorry, I got distracted by seeing you with your adorable son and forgot we hadn’t been formally introduced. Yes, I’m Magnus Bane. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alec. I’ve admired your music for years.”

Alec’s smile flickered, turned a little incredulous. Clearly Magnus wasn’t the only one who felt that the simplistic mold their label had pressed them into had done their talent a disservice. Their growth as musicians had been artificially stunted until even the man who composed most of their songs doubted its quality.

Clearly at a loss for words, Alec turned away to introduce himself to Luke, which led to Simon chirping up again, “Oh, yeah, Magnus was about to tell us about some of the concepts he was tossing around for his solo album! I figured since we hadn’t yet decided on what we really want our new sound to be, maybe we should hear what he was thinking.”

Alec arched an eyebrow and looked Magnus up and down as if taking his measure, then ducked behind the rack of keyboards and began turning them on. “Yeah, sure, let’s hear it.”

As he spoke, his fingers tickled the keys lightly, the volume turned low as he tested his equipment. Magnus watched him, mesmerized by the length of his fingers and the dexterity of those huge hands. Only when Alec glanced up did Magnus realize he was in danger of staring again.

“Right. Well, my favorite concept, the one inspired by Luke’s work with Pack Howl, kind of skirts the edge of, like, old school prog rock. You know, themed albums where each song is a piece of a larger story.” Alec frowned, and Magnus could see the arguments forming behind his eyes. No one really did progressive rock much anymore; the label would declare it unmarketable. Magnus shook his head and pushed on. “Without the intellectual pretensions or psychedelic influence, I mean. People shouldn’t have to be high or have advanced degrees in classical literature to really get it.”

“How do you figure that would work?” Simon asked, brow beetled thoughtfully.

“Make the narrative that threads its way through, from track to track, something more in keeping with modern-day pop culture. Approachable to anyone who isn’t living in a cave.” Magnus rolled his eyes and pulled up a stool, sitting to face them so they all formed a circle. “Like, maybe a story about superheros, or—my favorite—an urban fantasy tale about demon hunters.”

“Like, what, The Walking Dead?” Alec asked, his lips pursed. His fingers never stilled on the keyboard.

“Or Teen Wolf! Constantine, Grimm, Supernatural, Hemlock Grove!” Simon rattled off, and Magnus laughed.

”All of that. And we’d each play different parts, right? Not like role play,” he said quickly when all of them started to look alarmed. “Not cheesy or overt. No costumes or makeup or acting. It’s more accurate to say the instruments would do the heavy lifting rather than us or even the lyrics. Word painting, in a way, with the instruments acting out the story.

“For instance, you, Simon—” Magnus pointed and stood, approaching him. “You’d be a—a vampire! Not a sinister, centuries old creature of the night, though. Not a predator. An college student who gets bitten and turned against his will, and now you’re pulled into this world and you don’t know how to navigate it. You’re trying to be a normal guy but you have these impulses you need to fight to control. Now...convey that using just the guitar.”

“Really? A vampire? Hmm.” Simon tilted his head inquisitively and closed his eyes, as though hearing the chord progressions in his head. A soft melody blossomed from his fingers on the strings and slowly crescendoed as he found the character in the music he was making. The sudden, harsh sliding chord assaulted their ears, erupting into several loud thrumming power chords that abruptly pulled back, resolving into the original melody he’d started with. “Something like that?”

“Exactly!” Magnus chuckled and started pacing, excitedly gesturing. “You take that sort of notion and work it into whatever the song we may be playing, let it inform your approach. I know it sounds like some weird musical inception shit, but, like, your guitar is that character, and that character is performing whatever song we’re on in the set list. So the only time it can be obvious is maybe when you’ve got a solo. You get what I’m saying?”

Simon nodded eagerly. “Oh, yeah, totally!” he glanced past Magnus at Alec. “If we can make this work, it could be really awesome, dude.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Alec agreed with a thoughtful tip of his head, then looked at Magnus. “Keep going. Give us the whole picture.”

Magnus dropped him a wink. “Thought you’d never ask. Jace, you’re a warrior.”

“What kind of warrior?” he asked, stroking the neck of his bass with a frown. “Another vampire?”

“No. You’re Nephilim, of course!” Magnus beamed when they all laughed. “I’m serious. You’re a half-angel demon hunter, the best of the best. You’re fierce and impulsive. Your bass line should be rapid and unpredictable, always trying to drive the tempo faster, always ready for a fight, a challenge.”

Jace nodded and started in on something that first reminded Magnus of the acid-rock-esque bass line in Heart’s “Barracuda” but which quickly differentiated into something else entirely. Magnus grinned and headbanged along for a moment before pointing at the drums.

“Let me guess,” Luke said wryly. “A werewolf?”

“Not just any werewolf—the alpha werewolf,” Magnus called back one of Simon’s sliding chords shrieked along Jace’s driving bass. “The leader, wise and patient, but savage when necessary. When the hothead over there starts to get too far ahead of himself, you rein him in, keep it steady. His kind, they don’t always get along with your people or Simon’s people, so there’s conflict there, but also the potential to work together for a good cause.”

Luke pursed his lips and jumped in on the off-beat, playing in counterpoint to Jace for several bars until they shifted to sync up so seamlessly the could have been doing it for years. Simon hooted gleefully and laided a new chord progression over their rhythm.

“So if I’m a vampire and Luke’s a werewolf, is there conflict there?” Simon had to shout to be heard. “That’d be a little Underworld, wouldn’t it?”

Magnus shook his head and they all slowly faded out until he could be heard without trashing his vocal chords.

“No, maybe there could have been, but your relationship with Luke has history that makes it more harmonious,” Magnus explained. “He’s a mentor to you, a father-figure.”

Simon grinned brightly at Luke. “Hey, just like real life!”

Magnus blinked in surprise, but before he could ask, Jace smirked. “So I guess that leaves Alec as a wizard?”

“I’m the warlock,” Magnus replied, sniffing. He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “It gives me something I can express physically, since I’ve only got my voice and the lyrics to play with, and it’s not supposed to be that overt.”

He glanced over to see Alec arching an eyebrow at him, as if to ask, Yeah? So what am I, then?

“Alec’s also a demon hunter,” Magnus said, watching him thoughtfully. “The other half of Jace’s team. But he’s not a scrapper, like Jace. His skill is archery. He’s steady, focused, mysterious, laser-beam precise. He can get in there and dust it up if necessary, but he favors strategy.”

“Mysterious, how?” Simon asked avidly.

Magnus shrugged. “Maybe that’s for us to figure out as we go. He’s a man with secrets,” he purred. Alec frowned and narrowed his eyes, then looked down at his keyboard. From the way Jace and Simon went still, Magnus suspected this was how they’d done their composing for The Nephilim. Alec would lay something down and they would build around it.

It was a heavy, expectant moment, and then it began. A single trilling chord slowly crescendoed, then resolved abruptly into a different chord, hard and staccato. Magnus could almost see a bowstring being drawn back and the arrow being loosed as though it were playing on screen before his eyes.

Then they were off to the races. Alec’s allegro chords were a little reminiscent of “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway” but with a slightly darker undertone, bringing to mind images of hunters running down their prey. Jace joined in after a few bars, his bass line a thrumming heartbeat, pounding with the thrill of the chase. Luke’s counterpoint rhythm threw the whole thing into confusion, suggesting something else was stalking the night, and the shriek of Simon’s guitar called into question who was hunting and who was the hunted.

Magnus let them riff for a while longer, ironing out any wrinkles until it came together smoothly, then grabbed the microphone and kicked in with a quickly improvised adaptation of lyrics he’d been working on for months now.

They say there’s two sides to every story As they sharpen their knives and shroud themselves in glory

Might makes right Got the angels on their side But what justice lies in store At the point of a sword?

It was clumsy and cobbled-together, but somehow also perfect. Perfectly full of potential, perfectly full of opportunities to improve and transform it into something amazing.

Alec led them through a transition and key change and they all fell in line like ducklings.

Duckin’ under sightlines Tryin’ to avoid the frontlines Keepin’ my head down Dodging heat from people whose heads never bow

They keep comin’ for me I just want to live, just wanna be Never good enough in thought, deed, or word When’s it time for my side to be heard?

Magnus could feel it, that sense of rightness, of having tapped into something special. It swelled under the music, running through them all like an electric current leaping from one person to the next until the circuit was complete.

When he glanced at the sound booth, Isabelle was beaming through the glass as though she’d won the lottery.

Magnus grinned back and began improvising another verse.

They worked for hours, recording the bare bones beginnings of half a dozen songs that they—particularly Simon and Alec—would polish and refine until they were ready to lay down the tracks for real.

Three of those were more fleshed out than the others, and though no one said it, Magnus knew they were all imagining the way those songs could segue into into one another in a medley. When played live on stage, those songs could easily become a true, fifteen minute long suite, hearkening back to the idea of old-school prog rock that Magnus had led with.

On the album, however, they would probably separate the tracks, to make it a little less obvious what they were doing when it was interspersed with a label-pleasing number of bops, ballads and anthems.

Magnus grabbed the cup of tepid slippery elm tea Isabelle had appeared with when she’d returned from one of several trips upstairs throughout the afternoon, along with one of the face towels off the stack she’d laid on a nearby stool as they’d all worked up a sweat. Even Simon’s perfectly adequate air conditioning wasn’t enough to keep them from overheating.

Luke, Simon, and Jace’s t-shirts had ended up in a sopping pile near the door, while Alec’s dark gray tee was nearly black and clinging to his torso quite attractively. Magnus felt damp and probably a little ripe as well.

Simon glanced at his phone and gasped. “Crap, I need to go. I’m gonna be late!”

“Tell Maia I’ll call her later this week,” Isabelle said with a fond smile, emerging from the control booth, leading Gideon by the hand. He rubbed his eyes and staggered a little, clearly having just woken from a nap.

Jace and Alec groaned in unison.

“Don’t talk about that sort of thing with us here!” Jace groused, batting away the towel Simon flung at his face as he rushed out of the studio.

Then Simon popped his head back around the door. “Luke, tell Clary I’ll pick her up coffee tomorrow morning,” he said, then rushed off again.

“Who’s Clary?” Gideon mumbled, all but falling into Alec’s lap as Alec sat down on the floor to receive him.

“Clary’s a friend of Uncle Simon’s,” Isabelle explained, squatting beside them. “And Luke there is her stepdad. He’s the one who got Simon interested in music, but then they moved when Clary’s mom got a job in Europe, and that’s when Simon joined The Nephilim. But Clary’s mom went away last year, like your Uncle Max did, so Luke and Clary came back home just when we needed to find a drummer. Lucky us, huh?”

“So that’s how you ended up playing for a German band like Pack Howl,” Magnus observed.

Luke nodded.

“Hey, little man,” he bent low and held out his open palm. Gideon give him a groggy high-five and Luke chuckled, something a little sad hovering around the edges of his smile. He straightened and looked at Isabelle. “I gotta run. Clary and I were gonna grab dinner tonight.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said with a gentle smile. “We can set up a time for you and Alec to debrief about how you felt things went musically today, make sure you’re on the same page there? And if you are, I’ll talk to our lawyer about the contracts.”

Luke nodded. “Sounds good. Talk to you soon, Alec. Great work today, Jace. Magnus, I thought your ideas were excellent. This is gonna be good.”

“It was great to work with you, Luke. Can’t wait for our next session,” Magnus said, waving with his cup of tea. The tea was really only a prop at this point, though. With this energy sizzling along his nerves, high on creativity and the overwhelming sense that the group had all really clicked while they were playing, he hoped he might have a chance to debrief with Alec a little now instead of making an appointment.

When Luke was gone, Jace sighed wearily. “I need to go rest,” he murmured. “Good work, Magnus. See you later, Gidlet.”

Alec frowned. “You sure you don’t want to come stay at my place?”

“Nah, I don’t think I should be around Gid until I’m feeling more like myself. As long as Izzy promises to order takeout, I’ll be fine.” He smiled wanly and slipped away before Alec or Isabelle could protest.

“Is Uncle Jace still sick?” Gideon asked solemnly.

Alec sighed and kissed his temple. “Yeah, he is.”

“But I thought he went to the special hospital to get better.”

“He did, sweetie,” Isabelle replied, stroking a hand over his dark hair. “But it’s not the kind of sickness you get better from all at once. The hospital got him over the worst of it, and he’s going to get a little healthier every day until he’s all better again. It will just take some time. But as long as he stays with one of us and doesn’t try to go home alone or anything like that, we’ll be here to help him through it.”

Gideon nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. If he decides to stay with dad, he can sleep in my room while I’m at Mom’s house. It has Captain America.”

Alec smiled. “I bet Captain America would definitely help him feel better,” he agreed. “I’ll be sure to let him know you made the offer.”

“Captain America’s kind of old now. My new room at Mom’s is gonna have Wonder Woman,” he announced.

“Good choice!” Isabelle hooted, high-fiving him.

Loath as he was to interrupt their family scene, Magnus was starting to feel a little creepy, hovering there while they spoke with no way to bring the conversation around to how Alec felt things had gone during their jam session.

“Well, I should get going,” he announced, setting down his empty teacup. “We’ll do our post-game roundup another time, Alexander?”

Alec’s cheeks seemed to darken slightly as his eyes flicked quickly over Magnus and then back up to his face in a cruise so swift and subtle Magnus would have missed it if he hadn’t been on the lookout for it.

“Um, y-yeah. I, uh, I-I need to get Gideon to his mom’s house soon, so I— I, um, have to go soon, myself.”

Isabelle glanced from Alec to Magnus and one corner of her mouth turned up.

“Why don’t you let me take Gid to Lydia’s place tonight?” she suggested, beaming. “We were having fun together in the control booth earlier and I have nothing going on tonight. You and Magnus need to talk about how the session went anyway, so you might as well do it while it’s still fresh in your minds? Especially if Magnus is going to have the sort of creative input it appears he will; that’s totally different from the way the band used to work.”

Alec’s brow furrowed and he looked at his son, who craned around to meet his eyes. “What do you think, buddy? Want Aunt Izzy to take you home?”

“You can show me your plans for your Wonder Woman room,” Isabelle added.

“Yeah!” Gideon shouted and scrambled carelessly off Alec’s lap, resulting in a muffled grunt that had Magnus wincing in sympathy. “I get to ride your car! Can we put the top down?”

Magnus smiled as Gideon dragged Isabelle out the door to transfer his booster seat into what would no doubt turn out to be a very stylish convertible.

“Don’t forget to tell Mom about the Tooth Fairy!” Alec called after them, then sighed heavily. “How much money is the Tooth Fairy even supposed to leave in today’s economy?” he muttered, standing to dust himself off. He glanced uncertainly at Magnus.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Magnus said before any opportunity for an awkward silence had a chance to set in. “Would you care to have dinner with me, Alexander? Then we can talk about the music.”

On to Chapter 3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s a musical technique called Word Painting (and if it has a more formal name I’ve forgotten it in the ~25 years since I learned about it) where an instrument or instruments imitate what the lyrics are describing.

A good example of that would be in Bob Seger’s “Hollywood Nights” at about 1:11 (listen to what the piano does after “They watched the waves tumble over the sand” and you’ll hear the piano is imitating the waves.)

Another example would be at 4:50 seconds of “Driving the Last Spike” by Genesis. Listen to the tumbling descent of both the vocal part and the drum part on the line “Stone fell like rain.”

Actually Genesis is a good place to look for the kind of more modern prog rock Magnus is describing in this chapter, especially their later stuff rather than the old-school variety in the Peter Gabriel era. Check out "Driving the Last Spike” for more straightforward storytelling, and then also “Home by the Sea” for a slightly more abstract prog rock piece (gotta love a band that makes a song about a cat burglar getting stuck in a haunted house.)

Pay particular attention to the second part of “Home by the Sea”, from around 4:30 onward, once it becomes wholly instrumental. That’s Tony Banks on the keyboards, whom Alec compares himself to in Chapter 1 of this story. It’s really his skill at the keyboards that stands out about Genesis’s music.

If you enjoy those songs, feel free to check out the rest of the Way We Walk Live Tour in 1992. It was really a great concert (and one I actually almost got to go to, but not quite.) Again, listen closely to Tony Banks on the keyboards, because I take a lot of my inspiration for Alec’s playing from him. If you listen to the Old Medley starting at around 24:50, you’ll hear part of “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” which I mention in this chapter (you can find the camera that focuses solely on Tony in this video here: https://youtu.be/wXm6jH0z324?t=129).

[void-03]

Mental Health Vent

This is just me venting, the post has no point. I just wanted to write my feelings out and post it publicly.

Around a month ago, I learned that I had my IQ score tested when I was a child (around 6-8 I imagine). Thinking further on it, I got upset. I don’t know why. Anyway, apparently I got an IQ score of 138, and my mum was recommended that I would be sent to a school for gifted children because I could struggle in a normal school environment. The test was done by a qualified professional who was a friend of my mum, though.

My mum didn’t really have options like that in my area, so I lived my life as regular kid (I’m not blaming her for this). I was a weird kid, I had my strange habits and I didn’t like to talk with people. I wasn’t shy, I didn’t really care what people thought of me, I just didn’t like to be around people or be in overwhelming spaces. I couldn’t even eat the food that was given to me, I had very specific preferences, so I’d bring the same crackers to school every single day for lunch. I’d eat those when everyone was out of the classroom at lunch time. They were all in the cafeteria. I also didn’t have a lot of energy, ever. If I did more than two things in one day (things like bathing, doing sports, going to an event, visiting a family member...) I’d feel mentally exhausted. This got me branded as boring by both my friends and family.

As I started to go to middle school, I found myself being interested in true crime and more importantly, psychology. I always struggled to understand the people around me and psychology was helpful about that. I had never been to a professional psychologist myself, my mum always said they were money-hungry and she only trusted that friend I mentioned above. But I was starting to suspect I may have mental issues, so I asked her to take me to her friend at least.

I knew this woman well though. I had spent time with her before, I knew her views. I remembered her talking about how she fixed gay people before, how they were all just confused. I decided that I would not mention my bisexuality to her, naturally. 

I continued researching psychologist, we didn’t immediately make an appointment as the woman lived in another city. I discovered something called Asperger Syndrome, as I read more about it (whether these were professional articles, Aspies expressing themselves, or tips on how to help people with Asperger’s get better at socialising) I found myself feeling rather close to something I’d read up on for the first time. I didn’t self diagnose myself, to be clear, I just suspected it.

After months, the time had finally come. Me and my first appointment with a professional, how exciting. I revealed my heart and soul to her (except the LGBT parts), talked about my deepest insecurities. She said I probably had generalised anxiety, social anxiety and a mild agorophobia. I asked her if it was possible I could have Asperger’s (I didn’t want to say Autism because people always imagine low-functioning Autistic people when you say that) and she shot down the possibility immediately. Her reasoning was “You can read body language, you just read it wrong.”

What? What does that mean? Wouldn’t reading it wrong mean I can’t fucking read it? 

I found her reasoning very stupid, but I trusted her. I continued to consider the possibilities she presented me, and read up further on social anxiety and agorophobia. My mum had already figured I had anxiety because all of my family members have it. But... I didn’t have social anxiety. I just didn’t like to talk with people and had stage fright. Stage fright doesn’t mean you have a disorder. High-functioning Autism fit my issues a whole lot better. 

I shrugged it off. I didn’t want to self diagnose myself with anything anyway because I didn’t agree with it. I blocked everything about Autism/Asperger’s from my life. If I read up on it, I’d relate. If I relate, I might suspect I have it.

At this point, my grades had started to drop. I never was able to watch the board and the lesson at the same time, I’d get distracted and fall into my thoughts, which were just chaotic. I could never stop thinking if I wasn’t reading, writing or drawing. Those were the things that comforted me.  Anyway, my grades started to drop because I couldn’t figure out the things the teachers had thought by myself anymore. I’d read the books before exams, but that wasn’t enough anymore. Books can’t answer your questions or guide you when teaching. 

I told my then boyfriend I suspected I might have Asperger’s, I was very shy about it because I didn’t want him to tell me I was wrong to claim I might have something. I’m insecure about these things.  He told me he believed I probably had it as well, and I should tell my mother about my suspicions, ask for help.

So I did. I presented her with the disorder, she said I might have it but she clearly didn’t like the idea of me having it. Everytime I found something weird that I did that was apparently a symptom, I got excited. Maybe I’m not just a weirdo, maybe these strange behaviours aren’t my fault. There are people who do the same things as me.  I would excitedly tell her about it each time I read up on something. She was displeased by this, she told me to stop insinuating I had it. That was fine, I didn’t mind it that much. I would keep those discoveries to myself in the future. After all, I just wanted a professional to speak to, who didn’t know my mother and me. 

So I asked her if she could take me to one, but she didn’t trust any. 

A year past until she found this psychologist online who she liked the videos and opinions of, so she wants to take me to him after the corona thing dies off. She wants this because she heard that one of her friends’ kid had the same problem with focus and was prescribed medicine for it, and it apparently helped him.  This is the reason she finally decided to research for psychologists, before then, she would say look for one online yourself. 

I told her the psychologist and I might not fit, as most people don’t find someone right for them immediately but she told me that she couldn’t find another psychologist so I better stick to the one I’ll probably be seeing. 

I don’t know if I want to pour my heart out like that again. This person will be a stranger. I know I wanted my psychologist to be a stranger, but I don’t even know if he is a reliable one. None of my friends tried him before. 

Well... I don’t know when I’ll be visiting him, but I’m still nervous. That’s it.

[winchesters-flannels]

Soundtrack of Us (Part Four) - Dive

Word Count: 2500+

Pairing: AU!Dean x musician!reader

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Ellen & Jo Harvelle, Castiel, Russell (OC), Dan (OC)

Warnings: Character Death (not main), DUI, angst, language

Summary: Y/N is a local artist with standing gigs at a coffee shop and a bar in a small town in North Carolina. She’s run from some things at home, but life has finally fallen into place in Asheville. Music is her life and her only worry in life, until she meets a pair of hypnotizing green eyes.

Author’s Note: Sorry it took me so long to post this! I am also working on the next couple parts, but honestly this story was very loosely planned haha. Anyways, is anyone else obsessed with Divide??? I heard this song and immediately wanted to add it to SoU! without further ado, here’s this rollercoaster of a chapter!

Song is Dive by Ed Sheeran. Lyrics are bold and italicized, flashback italicized.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“I will never forgive myself,” you wept.

“But you should,” Dan interrupted, “This isn’t your fault. This is because Russell is a careless idiot. Your heart is broken too and you aren’t out here trying to kill yourself.” You could tell that Dan was furious with his barely breathing brother.

“Please don’t beat yourself up, Y/N. I know I can’t make you see it, but this was not because of you. Russell was just in such a dark place. Nobody could’ve known this would happen, I don’t even think he was trying to kill himself.”

You tried to accept that. You tried to remember the smile that sent your heart into the sky. You tried to picture the way his eyes sparkled when he would laugh at your dumb jokes or embarrassing blunders. You glanced down at your left hand and let out a tear at the sight of your bare ring finger with a tan line running through it. You loved him, but you knew you had to let go and this time for good. This would always be on your shoulders, but for now, you needed Russell to be able to find peace. The peace that you knew you’d never find.

You left the room to Dan so he could say his goodbye.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you okay?” Dean awakened you from your silent trance. You were sitting in the passenger side of his bench-seated muscle car, surrounded by the smell of leather and the sounds of Led Zeppelin. Dean and yourself were heading back to your apartment after the two of you had a long and exciting day. It had been a couple weeks, almost a month that Dean Winchester became a part of your life now.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Zoned out in a daydream,” you blurted out, staring at the white and yellow lines that stretched out along the dark road. You hadn’t thought about the night Russell died for quite some time and your heart stung. However, you decided that you couldn’t destroy this second chance that you and Dean had. You regained your composure at smiled at the man to your left and he smirked back at you. You still were unsure of how things could go with him, but for some reason, he made you want to risk it all. Every hesitant fiber in your body had disappeared when it came to him. Every mistake that happened between you and Russell had been forgotten.

“If anything’s botherin’ you, just tell me, okay?” Dean shot a concerned smile your way.

“I’m good, Dean. I’m good here with you,” you glanced back at the road and Dean grabbed your hand. You both had gotten to know each other better. He came to all of your standing gigs, smiling at you and humming along to your songs. You learned about your lives growing up and how it had been hard on Dean, raising Sam with a little bit of help from his Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bobby. He learned that your parents had never really supported your dreams or really you in general, but they still cared about you, just not enough. You learned that he loved pie, any pie and every pie. You learned that he loved his car and he loved his family. However, you two never talked about Lisa. You two never talked about Russell. You both acknowledged who the respective exes were, but you hadn’t been in the mood to elaborate and neither of you tried to pry.

So you were getting to know Dean better, but you both still had so much to learn. You didn’t care if he was going to hurt you again. As much of an independent person you were, you wanted Dean. Knowing that he wanted more from you made you feel like a completely different person, someone who could take on the world. You didn’t need the acceptance of a man, but Dean only heightened your bravery.

You were ready to love again. You wanted to love Dean.

“Come on, Dean. Just sing one song with me,” you begged. You were back in your apartment, lying in bed with the strapping man you’ve been spending most your time with. You went on a hike earlier at Chimney Rock, one of your favorite places in North Carolina. You both were tired and hungry, but you still had thoughts about your gig for tomorrow night at Harvelle’s.

“Nope, I’m not ready yet, baby, I got stage fright,” he said to you, coyly smiling at the ceiling. Baby. How could such a simple pet name make your heart skip a beat? You were used to the usual ‘sweetheart’ because he called almost everyone that.

“Hmm… baby?” you asked.

“Do you not like that?”

“I think it’s cute, but only if it’s for just me. Not like how you use sweetheart,” you poked at his chest.

“Then I promise you’ll be the only baby,” he gave you his million-dollar smile. You melted at the sight of his dark blonde hair resting on your pillows. This man was just as into you as you were into him. It had been an amazing month falling in deep with Dean. You swooned at the way he opened doors for you and how he would grab your hand at random moments, just to keep you close. You would’ve never thought that you had only known him for such a short amount of time, let alone that your relationship started the way it did. Spending time with Dean started as group hang outs with Sam, Jess, Jo, and Jo’s new beaux, Castiel. You all loved to hit the bars during the week, especially Hippogriff where drinks were on the house (thanks, Sammy). It started to progress to lunch dates, dinner dates, and adventure dates. You and Dean enjoyed hiking around the parks in and around Asheville. Along with those dates, you spent a lot of time in your apartment with him. You showed him original songs you wrote and you two would play songs together as well, harmonizing perfectly with each other. You could really be yourself around him.

He spent the night a lot of nights. Sometimes he would fuck you into the mattress and others, he held you passionately and did nothing more than kiss you. Dean was a dream. The days you spent with him were phenomenal. You felt like you were walking on clouds and every night you were scared that you would fall right through and none of it was real. Except, it was real. Dean was real and Dean was here.

“What are you thinking about?” he interrupted your inner thoughts.

“Nothin’. I’m just happy. Maybe this is what I was looking for when I moved here…” you cut yourself off, frightened that you would be scaring him off. Maybe he wasn’t looking for any commitment. You were just lucky to have someone want you around as much as he did.

Dean didn’t notice your hesitance, he just smiled and kissed you on the forehead.

“And maybe you were what I was lookin’ for,” he said.

You gathered your equipment for your gig onto your cart and headed out the door to pack your car. It was times like these that you were grateful you lived on the first floor of your apartment building. That and the times you came home hammered drunk that you were lucky to even unlock the door. The downside to living on the first floor? Your upstairs neighbors wore five-hundred-pound shoes and it sounded like they were bowling all day. Today was one of those days. You couldn’t even focus on practicing, so you’d be winging it with some old songs and maybe even taking longer breaks tonight.

Another Thursday night and you were finished setting up at Harvelle’s. The usual routine occurred. Your regular customers were there and you caught up on the town’s events of the week and planned to get drinks with them on Saturday, maybe. You waited around for Dean so that you could try to convince him to play a few songs with you tonight. Except, he was late. He was usually here to help you set up, but he was nowhere to be found. The texts you sent him earlier were left unread and ignored throughout the day. Something was off, but you ignored it.

“Hey Y/N, over here,” Castiel called out to you and waved. He was sitting at the barstool section of the shop, making googly eyes at Jo while she poured steamed milk into a latte.

“Hey, Cas. Hey, Jo,” you replied. Smiling at your two friends who were smitten by each other. It was refreshing to see Jo settle down. She had a bad break up a long while back and never found another guy worth the time. Yet, here she was with Cas. She was happy and that made you happy.

“Y/N, will you please tell my useless cousin, Dean, that I’ve been waiting on him all day? He’s supposed to look at my car! It’s been making weird noises and I don’t know what to do about it,” Jo pouted with a hint of stress leaving her lips.

“Actually, I’ve been trying to get a hold of him all day. Weird. I guess I really scared him off then,” you joked. That unsettling feeling you had earlier came back. At least he was ignoring just you.

“He hasn’t talked to me either, but you know what I haven’t tried to reach out to him. I just wanted to be included in the conversation,” Cas interjected. You and Jo rolled your eyes and let out the groans you usually sighed whenever Cas was being… well, Cas.

“Gonna go take a step outside and try to call Dean,” you nodded at the two lovebirds and headed toward the door.

You made it outside, but before you could pull out your phone, your heart sunk. A few feet away, Dean was talking to a beautiful dark-haired woman leaned up against the Impala. She was naturally beautiful, something you felt like you could never be. She had curves in all the right places and stood with poise and grace. That had to be her. That had to be Lisa.

She was grabbing at his hands, saying something that you couldn’t make out. She had tears in her eyes and Dean was consoling her. He rubbed his thumbs over her hands, the same way he consoled you when you had a bad day. You felt jealousy building from your toes, filling your whole body. You couldn’t watch this site anymore. You felt like you were invading Dean’s privacy and at the same time you felt like you were losing him. You didn’t want to assume anything, but you couldn’t help this disheartened feeling you had in your gut. This was why he wasn’t speaking to you all day.

Before you could make it back inside unseen, Dean snapped his focus away from the brunette and caught the distressed face you sported. Panic washed over his face as he watched your silhouette scurry inside the coffee shop.

“Baby, wait!” he called out before the door slammed. You couldn’t face him though. Not right now. He obviously had something to handle with Lisa if she came here. This wasn't about you and it wasn't your business. You needed to go back to your most important love affair: your music.

You sulked your way to your makeshift stage with a heavy heart. It was a little earlier than usual for you to start, but you just wanted to get lost in your own little world. There was a new song that you wanted to try out and you hoped that Dean would come in to listen to you and calm your nerves, hear the song that was meant for him.

“Welcome back to Harvelle’s, everyone. Glad to see some familiar faces. As always, kick back and enjoy Ellen and Jo’s perfectly brewed coffee and their sweet treats. My name is Y/N, for those who don’t know me. I’ll be singing for you all tonight. This first song is for someone important to me at the moment. And for anyone who is confused about love,”

The pair of perfect olive eyes met yours upon his entrance and there was a new burdened look on his face. You didn’t know why he looked at you so desperately, but you stopped yourself from wavering under his gaze.

Oh, maybe I came on too strong Maybe I waited too long Maybe I played my cards wrong Oh, just a little bit wrong Baby I apologize for it

You tried to choke back your tears, feeling like you had made a mistake by letting Dean in once again. How many times did you have to punish yourself for wanting to be loved? You only blamed yourself.

I could fall, or I could fly Here in your aeroplane And I could live, I could die Hanging on the words you say And I’ve been known to give my all And jumping harder than Ten thousand rocks on the lake

You took a deep breath before starting the chorus, letting every confused emotion regarding Dean give each lyric new meaning. He was intently staring at you, but there was a tinge of something different in his eyes. His face was guilt-ridden and his smile that he usually sported when you sang was nowhere to be found.

So don’t call me baby Unless you mean it Don’t tell me you need me If you don’t believe it

A tear escaped, but your voice didn’t waver. It only rasped with sentiment. You stared directly at the man you spent a month falling for. The man who knew where you liked to be touched and kissed and bitten. The man whose hand fit yours like no other has.

So let me know the truth Before I dive right into you

You’re a mystery I have travelled the world And there’s no other boy like you What’s your history? Do you have a tendency to lead some people on? Cause I heard you do

You couldn't give up. You'd already made it this far. You weren't ready to wake up from your dream, but everyone has their limits.

And I’ve been known to give my all And lie awake, every day Don’t know how much I can take

He shifted in his seat and turned away from you. The motion made you wince as your heart dropped. You still weren’t willing to give up on Dean, no matter what just happened with Lisa. You were going to talk to him, you thought he deserved that much. But in reality, you were going to talk to him for your own self. So that you could still have him in your life.

And I’ve been known to give my all Sitting back, looking at Every mess that I made

So don’t call me baby Unless you mean it Don’t tell me you need me If you don’t believe So let me know the truth Before I dive right into you Before I dive right into you

You were nearly shouting at this point. You didn’t care. This was how you got out your true feelings, your deepest thoughts. Dean’s face was buried in his hands. Your hope for your relationship with Dean started to wither. With that, you let out one last line softly, but with the last of your passion resonating in your gut.

Before I dive right into you

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing @charliebradbury1104 @thecynicalnerd

[carbonsequestrian]

man i dont even know if i should share this because it’s super weird/ poorly written/ doesn’t make any sense but i feel like i keep too much too myself so here is a block of text i wrote and didn’t edit and if you read it, i love you.

Well, id like to kick off my music blogging career with a piece about a song that has continued to inspire me since the moment I heard it about 5 years ago. Something about the song awakens this dragon in me… or rather, something about the song awakens a knight that is about to go and slay a dragon, and that feeling crashes into every fiber of my being resulting in me feeling fucking powerful. Idk what the secret is. I wish I had found this sound when  I did a song analysis project for my freshman writing seminar back in college. (I chose Sublime’s Santeria for that project… and it was a shit show. Believe it or not, trying to write 10 pages about a song that doesn’t inspire every fiber of your being is insanely difficult. Lesson – if you have to write a lot, write about something you fucking love and admire.)

 The song is Don’t Waste Time Doing Things You Hate by And So I Watch You From Afar of their self titled 2009 release. I think it’s their debut album. Anyway, the band makes instrumental rock music. Stuff that superheroes and supervillains alike would use as a theme song. I discovered them from Worldhaspostrock on youtube, so check them out.

 Of course, now that im sitting down to write about the song I cannot think of any words to say about it. Lovely how that happens. Especially after bragging about how easy it is to write about something you love. HA>

If you’ve ever done something you hate, you sure know how that feels. Part of you feels trapped -momma didn’t raise no quitter – and another part of you is too busy daydreaming about what you’d rather be doing to formulate a plot to get you there. Feeling stuck doing something you hate is exactly how I felt when I discovered this song. I chose my major at college based on what a guy who I’d met over the internet was studying, he called me pretty and would send me ‘good morning’/ ‘sweet dreams’ texts, so we were obviously super serious. And I was going to study the same thing as him and we would conquer the world together, duh. Lo and behold, I hated my major. And because I hated my major, I didn’t really fit in with any of the people I met through my major. There was one chick who I liked because she hated it too, but we were very different people. I did sports in college instead of joining a music group (being in an acapella group was a last minute goal of mine) because A. everyone in my family was super sporty B. no one in my family thought very highly of music and C. I was fucking terrified of it. Every bit of it sends anxiety chills down my spine and up my toes. Singing in front of people in a room? Singing with people? Having people rely on you to do your thing correctly in order to achieve a desired result? Fuck that’s anxiety inducing. And let me make this clear, I don’t have stage fright. But I do have Perfectionist Block (a totally real issue, created by me, ill discuss it further in another post) which makes me extremely hard on myself.

 So anyway, to paint the picture – 20 year old me is in the library for the 50th hour that week (no kidding, I went to Cornell, and seriously spent 6-10 hours a day in the library studying during regular term. Finals/ testing weeks, it’d double) looking for upbeat instrumental music that could make me feel like a bad ass and I find this band. The first song I found by them was The Voiceless, off the same album. That song fucking slaps. I must’ve listened to it 30 times before saying “hey, why don’t I check out their other stuff?” and thus gave this album a listen. I was so stressed that week, so tired, felt so lost and alone. I hated every fucking minute of my life but I was pushing through it because I wanted to make my mom proud. Every morning I would angrily get ready for class, pissed off that elitism and this desperate urge to prove oneself through menial shit such as ‘ivy league’ degrees would push someone to find the line of their breaking point and balance on it. All for what? If I died tomorrow, who could speak of who I am? At cornell, I was a cornell student. That was it. By being there, I wasn’t anything of myself anymore. I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t funny, I wasn’t good with animals, I wasn’t a hard-worker, I wasn’t smart – though, those last traits were implied – I simply became a product of an institution. One that I loved, don’t get me wrong. I had been looking for reassurance/ acceptance/ approval my entire life, and that letter that I got from a world renowned school was it – so I thought. But then I got there and my imposter syndrome went wild. I wasn’t truly smart, or good at learning. In fact, high school had been so easy for me that I was able to scrape by with great grades without ever working on schoolwork outside of school (I’d do my work during lunch, when I would eat in the chorus room/ my English teacher’s room since I had no friends.) at school, I thought I’d made friends, but they ditched me when I needed them most. In retrospect, I should’ve been more forgiving – no one’s perfect -  but ill blame my poor socialization through high school here. I saw kids who worked their asses off day and night. A 16 year old math prodigy lived in my hall. And I had nothing to show for my intelligence outside of the fact I was able to take enough HS classes in middle school that I’d manage to have 4 hours of school my senior year (typically, that time would be so that kids could take extra APs. But I said fuck that.)

 Truth is,  I was so insecure and unsure of myself that being thrown into the lava pit that is college – any college, not just an ivy league – was emotionally and mentally overwhelming. I found myself getting drunk to the point of almost dying most nights. Every time with strangers. I’d often go to the bridges, where so many had leapt to their deaths before, and ponder if that’s where I belonged. Crashing amongst the rocks and water in the gorges. Man, I was fucking depressed. And a ball of anxiety. I had no real identity, you’d ask me what I liked or what I wanted from my life and I’d have no real answer. My answer would vary based on what youtube videos I had been watching that week. I was so scared of being judged.

 Point is, I found nothing that I felt a connection to. Not my major. Not my peers. Occasionally my surroundings, but typically only in the morbid, I’d like to throw myself off this sort of way. Life is so much more complex than those things, and truth is, ill never really be able to explain away all of the different shit in my life that was bringing me down. Making me feel worthless. Dumb. Like I didn’t belong. And the first thing that I felt like understood this, was this song. Even writing that out I feel like it confirms my worst fears, that I am worthless/ delusional/ crazy/ not even a real person. How does one go through 20 years of life and can only feel connected to a pile of noises that a stranger has made and recorded? Wavelengths generated by someone else’s finger tips never felt so good. They resonated through my brain and spoke to my soul. It was like I was being sucked into a black hole and obliterated to nothing. And that was what I needed, because I was able to look at who I was and take a chance to rebuild. To change.

 With no one to talk to, no one who understood me, and no real goals or aspirations in my life/ being too crippled by fear to even take a chance to achieve my goals/ aspirations in life, I darted in the complete opposite direction. Left that ‘dream school’ for a state school 2000 miles away. I still waste plenty of time doing things I hate, but every day I try to do my best to find the things I love. It’s been a long hard road, and I am so unsure of myself. I realize I’ll never have the validation I seek, at least not externally. Still, going to cornell is my greatest achievement and those close to me hold a grudge that I left without fulfilling my diploma. And looking back, I could’ve done it. Taken some time off, sought a therapist outside of the free service offered, opened up to some of the people I had met. Hindsight is 2020. And im here now.

 This song means the world to me. The suspense of the guitar plucking in the intro is an emotion I was swallowed in. the anger and noise of the guitars from 1:11-1:30 was how I felt every morning when I looked at the day ahead. The desperation of the guitars at 2min how I looked at the people around me, who appeared to have their shit all together. Their heads above the water. Looking at me drowning below the surface. But I had a smile on my face, so I must have been fine. Then the clarity that comes at 3mins. The music starts to feel like it’s getting itself together. 3:35-4:15, when big changes happen. And the la la lalalalalas. That’s how I was, just “la de da-ing” my way through life, not really thinking about what I was going to take from this world and my short time getting to experience it. The song gets progressively happier, and calmer, as I hope my own life will be, though I’m still in my 3min phase when it feels like it’s starting to get itself together.

 Ill always hold onto the hard times I went through at school. And ill wish everyday for a time machine, so I could go back in time and tell 18 year old me to just chill and ‘discover yourself, man’ before going to a place that has so much potential. Because the truth is, I was too insecure to be successful at such an institution. I still think I’m too insecure. But at least now I know, and I’m not living under this idea that because I got into a good school I am a good person and good things will come to me.

[dearyallfrommatt]

See the man with the stage fright, just standing up there to give it all his might.

 I don’t know who needs to hear this or if it will do any good, but I don’t have access to marijuana or any hallucinogens and I don’t want to start drinking again, but if y’all ain’t going to act right, y’all need to leave me the hell alone. We got people seriously defending the CIA and worried about communism in 2020, people defending a president’s “purge list of enemies” as a good and normal thing, and an entire party facing that sort of lunacy dedicated to shooting its own dick off if their Precious doesn’t get the nomination (or if some others’ Precious they disapprove of gets it).

 No, seriously, that’s really stupid and these are stupid times. The Dumb have won, and wrestling reality back from them might just be too much for this poor, old world. I’m not sure it’s even worth it, and even people joking about Life on Earth being wiped out by an asteroid are getting tedious. Mainly because you know they don’t mean it.

 I realize this sounds contradictory, considering I’ve pounded out going on three paragraphs doing just this (and will probably write more), but I am tired of the pissing and whining. It’s not going to stop, though. Bernie Sanders gets elected and isn’t able to pull down the whole structure of capitalism in the first week, his biggest fans will be calling for his head. Trump supporters being ground into mulch to fertilize rich peoples’ rose gardens will leap at the chance, screaming “MAGA” all the way down with a smile. You know I’m right. We are months away from them defending him having sex with underage girls provided for him be Jeffery Epstein. And if Bloomberg gets the nod and then has the dime that’s hanging like the Sword of Damocles dropped on him, plenty of “reasonable centrists and liberals” will do just the same thing.

 I’m tired, depressed, grumpy, cynical and melancholy, and to be quite frank, the anti-depressants ain’t making the nut. Part of it is my window of the outside world, Twitter, is full of guys who complain that protagonists from girls’ cartoons from the ‘80s aren’t busty enough, and this is considered serious pop culture criticism instead of evidence the guy needs to be locked away from decent society. My other option is engaging with my fellow humans here in rural Northeast Mississippi, and I doubt they want to hear it either.

 I like writing, I really do, but I’m beginning to think if I ever had a shot at making anything worthwhile out of this, I let it slide away 15 years ago when I decided I was too burned out to keep doing it. I wonder if the return of that small taste of the sublime I get from cranking out a clever(?) turn of phrase is somehow proportional to the relative lack of being completely stoned every possible waking hour. I was the type of head that wouldn’t leave the house to go buy a loaf of bread without first taking a serious lung punch of the noble weed.

 That’s probably too much. I had heavy stoners telling I was smoking entire too much weed, but on a realistic level, nothing much has changed with regards to the cognitive process. I’m still spending way too much time thinking about Jungian synchronicity or the philosophical implications of the Multiple-Worlds Theory. The colors are less bright, is all, and the jokes are less funny. Not that I’ve done much gut-laughing over the past several years, full of smoke or running straight.

 People would say, “Matt, you stop smoking all that pot, you’d have more vim and zest for living.” But here I am, making a concerted effort to not sleep all day, only wanting to get up to hydrate myself and use the bathroom, spurned on by all the goddamn medication I’m taking. None of which, by the way, can I abuse for screwing my brain up, which is probably a good thing. “Matt, you want to travel,” says my therapist. No, I don’t. I just let you think that because I really don’t have a good comeback to you and I’m too tired to come up with one. I don’t want to leave my room.

 Middle age is a drag, y’all. I understand what Pete Townsend was talking about and why he feels righteously embarrassed whenever someone brings it up. I’m supposed to be either married, kids optional, or some definition of “success” which I couldn’t suss out if you held a gun to my head. Instead, I’m just hoping my heart gives out before my teeth do.

 But I like writing, I really do. This has been very cathartic even if no one ever reads it, and nobody ever reads what I write. I get these likes on WordPress and hits on Blogger, but I’m convinced it’s like when someone with a high follower count starts following boring, slightly crude old me on Twitter. It’s a never-ending source of amazement to watch people discuss coming up with fictional stories, so many they can churn out self-described “basic generic plot” genre stories to self publish books on Amazon. I can never get past adding more plot to get in the way of the story.

 So, I write out this navel-gazing nonsense no one cares about or in-depth explorations of Doug Sahm albums from the ‘80s no one cares about or, indeed, patiently crafted explanations of why and how the Democratic nomination process does it this thing that no one cares about. It’s fun for me and amuses me, so there it is. I recall watching an old Perry Mason episode that took place at a “Camp Crystal Lake,” and realizing the only person who wanted to see a Perry Mason/Friday The 13th crossover was me, and mainly because I wanted to see Paul Drake’s smug ass gutted like a catfish. But for that afternoon, anyway, I desperately wanted to see it. And that is weird, I’m not going to lie.

 Another thing I find a nonstop source of wonder is YouTube people who’ve done five-plus years of regular episodes on crappy movies or Top 5 Examples of Other People’s Ideas. A lot of it is no doubt my own self-consciousness and body image issues, but goddamn, haven’t enough people explained why Phantasm is an awesome movie? Then again, I never have been able to wrap my head around the “Let’s Play” phenomenon. It reminds me of watching amateur porn except more depressing, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to watch someone unattractive as me fuck someone who’d be willing to have sex with me, and I’ll let you fill in those blanks.

 I had at least two more paragraphs here that apparently got ate when I tried to post the Terrence McKenna video. Just a bit of entertainment and elucidation for chewing through this mess. I guess it’s time to wrap this up and get on with my night. It’s pushing the Witching Hour and even though I don’t have anything on my calendar for the next couple of weeks, pulling all nighters isn’t as much fun as it used to be. More often than not, it’s pretty goddamn painful and takes me a couple day to get over.

 But this has been cathartic, and that’s a good thing, I suppose. I mean, I’m still gloomy and irritable, but the winds aren’t howling as loud as they were beforehand. I’ve completely lost whatever thread I had tentatively wrapped together to bring this all home. I had something for this, I swear. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter so long as I enjoyed myself. And I did, even if no one else reads it or, frankly, if they do read it and don’t enjoy it.

 Serves you right.