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anotherkindofmindpod · 6 months

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Hello lovelies! I wanted to go back to another episode, Strange Bedfellows: Hiroshima Sky, and address a point raised in that episode. You all discussed Paul "bothering his dying wife" with the song credits switch issue, but I had the exact opposite impression. Here's Paul's quote to Anthony DeCurtis of Rolling Stone in 2001: "But this is why we don't have a great relationship. That, and the fact that Linda rang her during the height of her chemo shit and asked her, and Yoko said, 'That's never going to happen.'"

I do agree with your conclusion that Yoko was not obligated just because Linda was sick and I was pleased you both eventually allowed that Linda may have been offended on Paul's behalf, because that's what I think happened. Let me backup.

Earlier in that same Rolling Stone interview, Paul said, "So when the [Beatles] Anthology came out, after thirty years of always having John’s name in front, I thought it should say, ” ‘Yesterday,’ by Paul McCartney and John Lennon.' So I rang up and asked Yoko. This is when Linda and I were going through our real horror times. I rang Yoko up and said, 'Couldn’t I, on the Anthology, just on this one song, put my name in front? Could we put, ‘Written by Paul McCartney and John Lennon’? It would be a great favor to me.' Linda actually rang her and said, 'Do this as a favor.'"

"Yesterday" appears on Anthology 2, which was released on March 18 1996. According to Keith Badman, Anthology 2 was originally slated for release on February 26, 1996, supposedly due to a track re-ordering (moving "I'm Down") and thus making the original CD booklets obsolete and needing to be reprinted (Paul supposedly footed the bill for that). I have wondered if that delay for Anthology 2 was actually due to Paul wanting to change the song credits on "Yesterday," as he later described (or maybe the booklets had the credits switched on "Yesterday"and Paul had to pay to put them back!).

Paul told DeCurtis that he and Linda made the request "during our real horror times." Linda allegedly started an intensive chemotherapy regime in January 1996 (diagnosed with breast cancer in December 1995), just a month before Anthology 2 was originally due to be released, before being pushed back to March at the last minute. Due to that timeline, it's almost certain that the "Yesterday" credits request from Linda took place in January 1996.

Per Badman's Beatles Diary, Paul essentially stopped working during the year 1996 to care for Linda. He only made two public appearances, both in support of LIPA, and three brief recording sessions for Flaming Pie (separated by months-long gaps) in the entire year. He also did the final Anthology edit approvals and promotional interviews working from home, which was unusual for him at that time, and cancelled a few other work obligations that year.

Now we have the context that Paul and Linda made the "Yesterday" credits request at a terrible time in their lives. Paul seems to have taken offense less at Yoko's refusal and more at the way she did it, which he perceived as insulting to Linda when she was going through an awful time. Whether Linda asked Yoko independently of Paul because she was loyal or protective of him, or whether he knew beforehand and/or urged her to do it? We'll never know.

Yet if you go back to the statement Yoko made on Linda's death, Yoko wrote without elaboration, "The last conversation I had with her was in January this year [1998]." Now why would Linda and Yoko have spoken that January? Did Linda call Yoko, or vice versa? What else happened that month? Well, it so happens that Yoko's "Paul was Salieri/Paul made the phone calls" interview was broadcast in a BBC documentary on.....January 6, 1998.

Putting the speculative pieces together, here's my wild guess as to what happened. While working on the Anthology, Paul realized he wanted to have his name first on "Yesterday." What if Paul brought up the issue in the run up to the Anthology launch, not when Anthology 2 was to be released? Then right after Anthology 1 and the miniseries premiered to much success, Linda was diagnosed with cancer. Right after she started intensive chemo in January 1996, Linda asked Yoko to allow the credit switch as a personal favor to her. Maybe she knew it would give Paul a life preserver during that time, or she thought Paul was right, or some combination thereof, or whatever. Anyway, Yoko said no. Maybe Paul learned about that, was incensed, and tried to switch the credits on the Anthology 2 CD booklets anyway, causing the delay of the album's release.

Then, in January 1998, Yoko gave the Salieri interview with the hurtful comments which cut Paul deeply and Linda, who was always fiercely protective of Paul, became angry. According to friends, Linda was deeply concerned about Paul's emotional state during her illness, and I could see another perceived insult from Yoko sending her over the edge. So she called Yoko to confront her. Paul learned of that conversation (at the time? at some point later?) and, knowing how sick Linda was, became incredibly angry at Yoko in turn.

I think that everything during this time has to be looked at through the lens of Linda's illness. The credits issue, the flaming pie kerfuffle and finally the Salieri comments must have been seen by the McCartneys as Yoko throwing blows when they were at their lowest.

Thanks for all this, very thorough! We're delighted you enjoyed Strange Bedfellows. :) Thanks for listening and writing in.

#AKOM #Strange Bedfellows #credit reversal #Salieri-Mozart gate #Linda's illness #Anthology #Yesterday #Yoko Ono #Hiroshima Sky

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 5 months

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Not so Strange Bedfellows part one

TW: nonconsensual affection, referenced murder, referenced attempted genocide, referenced necrophilia, implied kidnapping, human whumpers, vampire whumpees

Note: This is the first chapter of a crossover between You can't Follow Your Heart if there's a Stake Through It and the Eden Vampire AU. Colt and Jacob are going to get on like a house on fire.

Moving down to Idaho was the only reasonable solution to Jacob's problems. He didn't have such a horrible reputation there. Or any reputation at all. After nearly a decade spent dreaming of the day he would escape those who had scorned him, he was finally doing it.

He considered Washington State as well. But for a blue state, the politics sure were waving red flags. A so-called "vampire rights" movement was going strong among liberal circles in Seattle. Jacob had to protect Rurik from human politicians who would use him for their propaganda.

Getting Rurik from Alaska to Idaho wasn't as difficult as one might think. Apparently, if you flash your vampire hunting license at the officials running the airport, they let you check a vampire's casket under the plane during a daytime flight.

Jacob had never flown before, and spent the whole trip staring out the window, terrified and whimsical in equal measure. Part of him wished Rurik were awake to take in this view, but the smarter part knew that Rurik would have a panic attack within five seconds of the plane taking off.

Their new house was… nice. Not that Jacob had much to compare it to.

He hadn't lived in an actual house since he was taken into foster care as a teenager. Besides, his childhood home was forever marred by memory of his mother's body. Dolled up by his father as though she were still alive. Sitting at the dining room table...

Yes, his new house was much nicer than all that. He made short work of unpacking his few belongings.

His bed and Rurik's casket went in the master bedroom, of course. Food, both for himself and Murzik, went in the kitchen. Most exciting of all, there was a spare room for Jacob to convert into an art studio.

Murzik was confused by her new surroundings, and chose to take a nap on Jacob's bed until Rurik woke up. Victoria was still locked in Rurik's nearly airtight casket with him, and Jacob hoped she would stay there.

But even harder than keeping pets from escaping was the matter of keeping Rurik from escaping. Jacob figured anything that kept vampires out of a house would surely work as well as keeping them in.

The dried garlic looked nice hanging over every outside facing door and window, in any case. And it was better than having exposed silver around as a threat. It might repel vampires, but it didn't burn them.

All that was needed today was for him to get established with the local vampire hunting guild and return home before Rurik knew he was gone. He had no idea what the work environment would be like, but hoped it would be significantly less toxic than the one he had just escaped.

•••

Jacob sat nervously across from Ilya, the head of the vampire hunting guild he had applied for. This was the first time in over a decade he had to apply for a job. Somehow, he doubted whether this was going well.

"Your record looks good, for the most part," Ilya said, his Russian accent reminding Jacob of Rurik. "Fourteen years spent vampire hunting. Kill count almost as high as my own…" He smiled sarcastically. "The only problem I see is the multiple past charges of necrophilia."

"I've had a rough life," Jacob said, trying to wiggle his way out of this tight spot through trauma dumping and making shit up. "My mental health declined quite a bit after my parents died. Dear old dad kept mom's body in our house for over a year before he hung himself. I ended up committing a few acts of… um, necrophilia during a mental breakdown. I assure you, I'm doing much better."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ilya said. "You have a lot of potential. As long as you can avoid future necrophilia charges, I'd love to employ you."

"Thank you," Jacob said. "I've heard that vampire hunting guilds vary from place to place, but I've only ever worked for one."

"Our operation functions much differently than Miss Chandler's. Unlike her, I don't personally believe exterminating vampirism is necessary. This guild kills any vampires who murder shamelessly and show no desire to atone for their actions. But we also do community service, including ethical blood drives and education programs for vampires who want to rejoin society. It's a dangerous world for peaceful sorts, and we don't want to make it worse."

"That sounds wonderful. I didn't know there were any social programs for vampires, except for those hippies over in Portland and Seattle trying to pretend that vampires are just like humans."

"Humans and vampires are very different. Both in physical and mental aspects. Understanding that is the first step towards achieving peace."

"I'm assuming you'll be more specific about assigning me bounties, as opposed to Chandler's 'just bring back proof of a kill and I'll pay you' style."

"We have more thorough forms of investigation, and you'll usually be given at least an address of your target. We pay for singular bounties, instead of having monthly paychecks."

"I'm used to that last part. Shouldn't be too difficult. Do you want me to do it alone or with a partner?"

"We'll assign you a partner unless you would prefer to go on your own. Teaming up is much prefered, for safety reasons."

"I've always worked with a partner. I think I'd prefer it."

"Excuse me then."

Ilya left the room, giving Jacob plentiful time to think over his prospects.

This was shaping up to be a glorious opportunity, and one he hated the idea of blowing. He'd have to be more secretive with his necrophiliac tendencies, obviously.

The door opened, and Ilya sat down behind his desk, another man hurrying after him. He looked Jacob over with slightly judgmental interest, choosing to lean against the closed door rather than sit down.

"Mister Amity, meet Mister Spearing," Ilya said. "His hunting partner died a week ago, and I'd like you both to work together."

Jacob stood up to shake his new partner's hand. "Hi, I'm Jacob Amity. It's really nice to meet you."

"Colt Spearing," he returned, an unpleasant smile on his lips. "I'm sure you'll be fun to work with."

You can't Follow Your Heart if there's a Stake Through It taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @heavenlyeden @whumpsday @whumpshaped @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @whumpytine

Eden taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenlyeden @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-cl1t @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit @canislycaon24 @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @a-crumb-of-whump @pixelated-whump

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Whump #Whumpblr #Whump writing #Not so strange bedfellows #Vampire whumpees #Human whumpers #Crossover #Crossover writing #Whump series

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mashpoll · 7 months

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Some 38th Parallels (s4 e20): Radar bonds with a patient, Hawkeye is unable to bond with a nurse, and Frank decides the camp's garbage could be as valuable as war bonds.

Strange Bedfellows (s11 e11): Colonel Potter discovers his son-in-law's infidelity, while Hawkeye and B.J. have to find a cure for Charles's snoring.

#some 38th parallels #strange bedfellows #season 4 #season 11 #round 1

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arielries · 1 month

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Handed in the final art files for Strange Bedfellows on Monday...not to toot my own horn but it's a bit of a stunner

#strange bedfellows comic #ogn #strange bedfellows #comics #artists on tumblr #graphic novel

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celinamarniss · 3 months

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Ao3 is down so I'm posting the first chapter of A Smuggler's Guide to Joining the Rebellion (the sequel to Things You Find on Tatooine) here as a birthday present for @virusq Happy Birthday!

It was the sharp tone in Mara’s voice that Han registered long before he recognised the words as they carried down the starboard corridor. “Chewbacca,” Mara hissed, “you’re not listening to me—”

It was the sort of tone that brought Han to an abrupt stop before his brain had realized what his body was doing. Chewie’s reply was too low to make out, but his answer was terse and unhappy.

Oh no no no no. Han was not getting in the middle of some lover’s spat. Swiveling on his heel, He slunk back down the corridor as quietly as he could manage.

“I know you’re there, Han,” Mara’s voice rang down the corridor.

Han frowned, foot half-raised. He was sure he’d been quiet. Why had he tried so hard to be quiet? This was his ship, wasn’t it? He didn’t need to creep around on his ship.

“Yeah?” he called back. “What of it? A man should be able to walk around his own ship whenever he pleases!” To prove his point, he let his feet fall heavily on the grated floor, even though he was still retreating backwards down the corridor.

“If the both of you are done bickering, we’re coming up on Riggett Station. If anyone on the crew wants to help dock the ship today.” A sullen silence answered him and followed him into the cockpit.

Moments later, Chewie lumbered down the corridor. “Teenagers,” he muttered under his breath as he joined Han. Mara trailed behind him like a little black cloud.

She got like that sometimes. Han didn’t understand it, Chewie couldn’t predict it. Without warning, she would fall into a sulk and shut herself off in her room with only her small arsenal of weaponry to keep her company. Eventually she’d come out again, usually to eat, and when she did she acted like nothing had happened. Han didn’t know if this was normal, since he wasn’t entirely sure how teenaged girls were meant to behave. The girls he’d known when he’d been a teenager had, like himself, been fighting too hard to stay alive on the streets of Corellia to mope in a cupboard.

Mara tucked herself in the seat behind Chewie and turned to the navigator’s console without speaking. Chewie grumbled something Han didn’t catch as he settled into the co-pilot’s couch.

“What was that?” Han asked absently as he reached for the lever that would take them out of hyperspace.

But he never did find out what Chewie was going to say, because at that moment, realspace solidified around them with an abrupt jolt that rocked the entire ship. Was the alluvial dampener malfunctioning again? Han had a moment to wonder before the proximity alarm began to shriek.

“Shit.”

An Imperial patrol ship hovered like a viper wasp in the starboard viewport, gleaming silver against the star-pricked void.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Han silenced the alarm. “That shouldn’t be there!”

They knew the patrol schedule for this sector—at least, they’d known last month’s schedule—and no one was due in this particular space lane for a few days.

“They’re hailing us,” Mara said tightly.

The Falcon’s comm dropped the first seconds of the call, almost as if in spite. “—erial patrol, freighter, please identify yourself.”

Han jabbed at comm with enough force to drive it into the control panel. “This is the freighter Millenium Falcon, sending our transponder ID now.”

“Stand by, Millenium Falcon.”

“They’re going to board and search the ship,” Chewie rumbled.

They were fucked if the Imps did a full search of the ship. The fifty barrels of high-grade Kessel spice sitting in their hold wasn’t sort of haul you couldn’t hide under a floor panel. They didn’t have time to move the barrels to a more secure hiding place and if a boarding party had a strong enough scanner, it wouldn’t matter where they hid it.

“Prepare for approach,” the comm droned.

“Uh, that’s not necessary, officer,” Han said, knowing, even as the words left his mouth, exactly how unconvincing he sounded. “As you can see from our ID, we’re just an independent freighter headed to pick up some work on the station.”

“Millenium Falcon, hold and prepare for boarding and inspection.”

There was a finality to the click that ended the transmission that couldn’t be denied. The nose of the cruiser slowly rotated until it pointed in their direction like a blunted arrow.

“Dump ‘em,” Han barked. “We’re still out of range of their scanners. We’re far enough into the system—we dump the cargo and it’ll just look like orbiting debris.”

“Will that work?” Mara asked.

“It’s worked before,” Han said grimly. He and Chewie had never tried it before—not exactly—but it was a common enough tactic that lots of smugglers employed. “But we have to do it now. Dump everything. Mara—”

But she was already gone. Han cursed under his breath and scrambled after her. When he caught up to her in the cargo bay, she had already donned her gloves and was releasing the locking clamps on the rack of barrels.

“Just shove ‘em into the elevator and we’ll dump them out of the loading—careful! What are you doing!—Don't scrape them along the floor! They’ll be able to tell there was cargo in here.”

“On this floor?” Mara waved a hand wildly. “Oh, they’ll definitely be able to tell what scratches on this floor are from illegal cargo.”

Han heaved a barrel into the freight elevator. “I’ll be able to tell, and if I can tell—”

A large furry hand reached around from behind him and hoisted two barrels out of the way. “Quit arguing,” Chewie rumbled.

“We’re not—” Han and Mara snapped at the same time.

“Just a difference of opinion,” Han said as he helped Mara tip a barrel on its side and roll into the lift. “Mara’s opinion is wrong and mine is right.”

Han kicked the final barrel onto the freight elevator where it banged against the other with an ear-piercing clang. He spared a millisecond to worry about the goods before remembering that they were about to space the whole lot.

“Alright, back off.” They retreated to the entryway of the hold as Han activated the elevator release.

The elevator disappeared into the floor as it lowered the barrels out of sight. They listened to the clunk and hiss of the airlock sealing the cargo off from the rest of the ship, and then—nothing. It was all gone, thousands of credits dumped into space.

Back in the cockpit, they watched the shadow of the patrol ship slide across the Falcon’s viewport.

“Everyone gets boarded,” Han said into the silence. “It’s fine. It’s going to be fine, everything’s going to be fine. They’ll smell that something’s off, but if they can’t find it, they can’t pin it on us.”

The Falcon shuddered as it was caught in the grip of the tractor beam and they all flinched at the vibration, followed by the deep mechanical grinding of the airlock slotting into place.

Han could feel Mara and Chewie’s eyes on him. “I’ll go show ‘em around,” he said.

He had a bad feeling about this.

“I’ll do it,” Mara said, darting out of the cabin again.

“Mara—”

“She can do it,” Chewie said.

“She’d better,” Han muttered, pushing out of his seat. “All our asses are on the line if she doesn’t.”

By the time he reached the airlock, five stormtroopers were assembling in the cramped corridor headed by an Imperial officer that looked exactly like every other Imperial officer that Han had ever met. There was something about that uniform that seemed to drain any sort of personality out of a person.

Mara stood between him and the Imperials, her hands loose at her sides, as unarmed as Mara ever was. “Officer! Welcome to the Millennium Falcon!”

Han had never heard her use that tone of voice before. It was innocuous and sweet, too-bright. Chirpy.

It clearly wasn’t the sort of reception the officer had been expecting, either, and it was just enough to throw him off. He closed his mouth around an unspoken command and stared down at her for a moment before he was able to reassess the situation he had walked into. Mara met his gaze with the straightforward earnestness of a concerned citizen with nothing to hide. Han almost believed her himself. Good girl, he thought.

“We’re here to search this freighter for any contraband or unregistered cargo,” the Imperial officer said stiffly.

“Of course, officer,” Mara replied, bright and eager. “We’re on our way to Glavis to pick up a job, so we’re running light right now. Do you have all the equipment you need to scan the cargo hold?”

“A visual inspection is all that’s required at this juncture. Is that your captain?” The officer said, craning his head around in Han’s direction. The expression on the Imperial’s face froze as Chewie lumbered into the view.

“Yeah, I’m him,” Han said. He gestured at Chewie. “Our first mate. And muscle.”

“Is it under control?” the officer muttered, more to Mara than Han.

“Chewbacca’s very reliable!” she said, before Han had a chance to mouth off. “You don’t have to worry about anything! Would you like to view the hold now?”

The officer made a show of looking Han and Chewie up and down once more before he nodded. “Keep an eye on them,” he said to one of the troopers.

“Sure, we’ll just wait in the lounge until you’re done,” Han said, backing down the curve of the corridor. The trooper hefted his blaster and marched in the same direction.

“Our cargo hold is right this way!” Mara chirped. “If you’ll follow me, sir…”

A single stormtrooper remained to guard the exit as the other three marched after Mara and the officer toward the cargo bay. The stormtrooper assigned to watch Han and Chewie stood at attention in the entryway to the lounge, and while it was impossible to tell where he was looking, not with those helmets, Han could feel his eyes on them.

Kriffing Imps.

Chewie put his hands on the table, relaxed and visible, as though he were just resting them on the edge of the holoboard. After a moment, Han did the same, though he itched to drop his hand and rest it on the handle of his blaster.

Every moment that passed, those barrels were spiraling further and further away from the space lanes,

They’d never be able to retrieve them.

After about two minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore. The stormtrooper hefted his blaster as he got to his feet, and Han jerked his hands up in a display of compliance.

Insolent compliance. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

“Keep within bounds,” the Trooper barked.

Han let his hands drop a few inches as he paced over to one end of the lounge, turning on his heel at the edge of the room and looping back again. And again.

If Mara wasn’t able to convince them that the Falcon was a perfectly harmless cargo hauler, then the Imperials would arrest them and likely throw them into some sort of hellish Imperial prison. Han didn’t want to think about the sort of sentence that Chewie or Mara would face.

Or—the Imperials might just shoot them.

Or this was just routine harassment, and if they didn’t see any evidence of smuggling, they’d accept a bribe—not that they had much of anything to bribe with—and be on their way.

Han made another circuit of the lounge. He could hear Mara’s chatter drifting down the hall before he saw her. The sound of a door sliding open, and then another, told Han they were doing a search of the Falcon, but only a perfunctory one. He craned his head out of the lounge, obeying the letter of the law by not lifting a foot to step into the corridor. He could hear the impatient shift of the stormtrooper behind him, but the Imp didn’t call him on it.

Han tensed as Mara paused in front of the door to her personal arsenal. She stood in front of the former supply closet, radiating innocence and chattering on, and not one of the stormtroopers moved to open the door. It was almost as if they couldn’t see it.

Han squinted at the troopers as they continued on down the hallway until they reached the airlock. He could hear the click and of their comms, and then the trooper on guard duty in the lounge shouldered past him to rejoin his squad.

The inspection was over.

If they’d had an Imperial flag onboard, Mara would have waved them off. “Thank you, officer! We appreciate your service!” she called as the airlock rolled back into place.

They waited in the cockpit for a long, tense half an hour before the comm pinged.

“Millennium Falcon, you may go on your way,” a bored voice droned over the comm. Above them, the patrol ship slowly glided back into the space lane and hovered there, clearly waiting to track the Falcon’s route as it headed toward Glavis. There was no way they could go back and collect the spice they’d dumped without giving themselves away. Han could barely feel his fingers as he steered the Falcon away from a fortune in spice.

“Jabba knows exactly how many barrels we were delivering to Glavis,” Chewbacca said.

“Yeah.” A cold stone settled in Han’s stomach.

They were fucked.

#a smuggler's guide to joining the rebellion #or should it be 'joining the rebel alliance'?#wip weds #works in progress wednesday #my stuff #the things you find on tatooine #strange bedfellows

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