#banjo one taken just today

[weeniebagel]

the best pictures of me taken this year

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twelve

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: This part took way too long to write. Had a bit of writers block ngl, but I managed to get it done last night when I couldn't sleep. Be prepared for a load of fluff but also some surprises. It's a good chapter, I enjoyed writing it once I finally got into it! But I'm also sorry for long wait! Hopefully the next will be along soon.

> Just a reminder! We left off on the red carpet with Mouse and Matty:) You can look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 22m ago GFC Charity Event! The gals are currently live and interviewing The 1975! So far we’ve had Jamie Bell, Peter Capaldi, Dylan and Jordan Banjo! 2TIME @/user1 WHAT was that? 102 @/user2  chemistrychemistrychemistry Ugh! @/user3 SHE COOKED FOR HIM?? Soloveme? @/user4 What’s going on at this event?? It’s all over my feed😭 MILK @/user5 Screaming this is honestly all so mental Parisin75 @/user6 Wait so they’re friends now? Or is something else happening?? > Too_shy @/user7 Last time I checked but he seemed so happy on the carpet, and he wouldn’t look into the lens at all. His eyes were always focused just above it, either on Adi or Mouse! >> Drumonmepls @/user8 Couldn’t have been Adi!! She was to the left of Ross on and off screen!

***

It was days after the event that things seemed to finally settle again. For Matty, at least. Me? I was still getting the odd DM and tweet here and there, but I couldn’t complain, not with how it had been at the very start. Hordes upon hordes of people had come to make their opinions known on the stance of Matty and I’s ‘sudden’ friendship; fans had taken to both Twitter and Instagram, they’d called into the show, and a few had even turned up outside of the studio.

Matty had been helpful throughout it all though, mainly just finding ways to take my mind off of it and sending security down to the building just to ‘be on the safe side’. It’d been a nice gesture, sweet even. But had also meant that his management team had cracked down on him and the band, cooping the lot of them up in a recording studio and pressing them to finish up the album they were currently working on.

That in itself hadn’t affected me much, the whole Matty being distracted by work thing, because it had happened around about the same time that prep work for the Christmas period had kicked in. Which was basically a time where Adi and I focused on pre recording a few shows so that we could sail smoothly into the new year.

This year it had been hectic, to say the very least, but Finn had been a Godsend. Offering to pick up Teddy from nursery on the days when we were filming late and even keeping him occupied on the one weekend that we’d lost the previous day's audio- which had been a fucking nightmare.

Today though, was finally a day where I got some time to myself. Well, myself and Teddy, seeing as I’d completely and utterly missed him even with only having been gone a few extra hours in the day than usual. Still, the kid was my little ball of light and without him I’d be utterly lost.

“Alright there, Teds, what’re you drawing?”

It was a Sunday, the 17th to be precise, and so we only had a week and a bit left in the lead up to Christmas. I’d spent the morning wrapping most of Teddy’s presents before he’d woken and demanded sustenance- which, fair enough. But he was always a little moody whenever he first woke up. Bit like me, I suppose. And so, whilst I’d started cooking him his breakfast, I’d settled him down at the table with some paper and pens to keep him distracted, an old album by The Cranberries playing.

“Plane.” The toddler retorted easily enough, tongue poking out one side of his mouth in utmost concentration.

Grinning at the small action, I settled a cup of juice before him and then stroked a hand through his unruly hair. “Is that for mémé then?”

Teddy hummed, nodding his head at the odd angle it was resting at. I chuckled, always enamoured by his every little thing.

“That’s brilliant, bubs! I’m sure she’ll love it.” I assured him softly, trailing my fingers through his hair one last time before withdrawing to finish up with cooking.

“How many days?” Teddy asked once I’d plated everything up and taken my seat beside him at the table, immediately I knew what he was on about- seeing as he’d only asked the same question a dozen times a day since the last time we’d phoned my mum.

I pretended to think about it long and hard. “Um… about this many days.” I said, holding up six fingers.

Teddy’s brow instantly furrowed as he set about leaning as close as he could get over the tabletop to point towards each of my fingers. “One, two, three…”

“Six!”

I beamed once he’d finally got it, clapping along with him. “So good, you clever boy! Six- six days til mémé gets here!”

Teddy repeated the words in a breathy murmur, grinning gummily back at me as he wiggled in his chair. Then it was just “six” over and over again for a short while.

I tittered faintly to myself, shaking my head before we went about the rest of our breakfast in much the same manner.

It was almost ten to eleven when the doorbell went and I frowned at the thought of who it could possibly be.

“Mum, door.” Teddy informed me, still so invested in his colouring. I hummed softly in turn, wiping my hands before getting up to go answer it.

“Remember to put the lids back on.” I reminded him about the pens, tucking his hair behind his ear as I rounded his seat, “I’ll just be a sec, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

I smiled softly at his monosyllabic reply, listening to him mumble to himself as I padded my way into the hallway. From here I could just make out the darkened shadow standing on the other side of the door’s paned glass and flicked through a mental list of who it could possibly be, wondering if I'd forgotten anything that was supposed to be happening today. But I reckoned it could just as easily have been Finn dropping by for an impromptu visit, or Adi even.

Flicking the latch and pressing down on the handle, I opened it up only to blink at the figure that stood before me. They gifted me an impish grin as they pushed away from the door’s stoop and onto steady feet.

“Figured I’d just pop by, say hello.” Matty mentioned by way of hello, fiddling with an unlit cigarette he held between his fingers whilst I continued to stare back in surprise, “Studio’s been booked for the day, so I managed an easy escape.” He added when I made no move to reply, “Thought we could grab a coffee or something- if you ain't busy, that is.”

He tacked that last bit on in a rush, as though he was beginning to understand why I was so silent. He’d really, really caught me off guard here.

“Er, I mean it’s a bit out of the blue and that. Should've really texted, I know. But I figured I'd try my luck.” He blundered again, shifting awkwardly on my front step now, looking enough out of place for it to finally blink me out of my stupor.

“I-” I went to say but was ultimately interrupted by another voice from further inside the flat, one that was approaching on toddling feet all too fast for me to react to its sudden presence.

Matty’s eyes bulged a tad at the little face that poked its way out from behind my knees, and mine followed when it finally hit me what was actually happening. 

“God, sorry! You just- it’s- I just wasn’t expecting you.” I fumbled, arms reaching down on impulse to pick up the toddler by my feet. I forced out a heavy breath before plastering on a big smile for Teddy, who only seemed to have eyes for the curly haired man staring back at him. “Um, you wanting to come in then? I can do tea, I think. Coffee, even.”

I didn’t really give Matty much of a choice in the matter though, in truth, because I was sailing away to escape the sudden scenario that had started on my doorstep, simply so that I could wrap my head around it all. It was just as I made it back into the kitchen that I heard the door rattle close behind us though and then, as I'd perched Teddy back in his seat, I glanced up to find that Matty had in fact accepted the offer of a warm brew.

It was strange to watch it all fall into place for him, his eyes straying over toys that littered the livingroom floor, the tiny bike which sat in the corner, the star-chart that hung on the cupboard above the fridge, all of Teddy’s artwork and clothes that had been thrown about haphazardly over the last day or two.

I swallowed around my anxiety then, not really sure how I felt now that I knew that Matty finally knew. Because see, I had never really been sure. Teddy wasn’t much of a well kept secret amongst my longtime listeners but I didn’t go flaunting pictures around or mentioning him at every turn. For safety reasons and privacy’s sake. So I hadn't been too certain on whether Matty knew of him or not, having noticed that he’d failed to ever mention him in our texts or calls.

“Um, sorry for the mess. Work’s been a nightmare, and this is my first proper day off in weeks, you know? So." I shrugged a little helplessly, looking out at all of the chaos, then decided to pull on my big girl trousers and trek through this mess like I did everything else in life. “Tea, then? Or coffee?”

The small cough that escaped Matty’s throat echoed around the room once he’d found purchase in the kitchen’s entryway and his voice was tinged with a slight rasp when he finally spoke, “Yeah, uh yeah, please. Coffee.”

I smiled mostly to myself as I turned away to refill the kettle, my mind still whirling but finding relief in Matty’s obvious shock too. Whilst it began to boil though I had nothing much to occupy my mind with, so I decided to putter back on over to the table where Teds had started back up with his drawing and attempted to relax my shoulders. 

“Go on, sit down,” I said to Matty, pointing to a chair as I tried to steer us back into easier waters, “Feel lucky you just missed breakfast, this one tends to get it everywhere.” I chuckled lightly in hopes to fill the quiet I was met with.

Teddy glanced up at me then with a prominent pout, obviously not too pleased about my comment.  “No.” He argued and I heard Matty snort as he finally took a seat opposite, leaving Teddy to act as the buffer between us both.

“Uh, yes.” I fired back at the toddler, but little good it did me when Teddy only seemed to maintain his avid disagreement. 

“Uhuh. I eat it all today.” He reminded me, lips pushed out as his brows climbed higher up his forehead, leaning against the table’s edge again on his elbows. “See?” He added on, pointing a finger over towards where a sink full of soapy dishes now laid.

I smiled, unable to do anything but, though it was Matty who actually replied to him, which both surprised me and put me on immediate edge. “I mean, the little guys got a point. If you ate it all then there can’t be any mess, right?” He directed that last bit towards the little rugrat attempting to evade all guilt and I paused in wait to see how Teddy would respond.

Teddy appeared wary for a moment, blinking over at Matty in a startle, probably having not expected to be roped into a conversation, before his lips settled into something more like a grin. “Right!” He mimicked with a short nod of his head, his ‘r’ sounding more like a ‘w’.

Matty all but beamed at the sudden attention he’d drawn and continued to do so once Teddy started prattling away to him at a hundred miles an hour. I just left them to it, listening in as I padded back over to finish making the drinks. 

It was only after Matty had just about knocked back most of his coffee that Teddy grew tired of talking and asked if we could do something fun, eyes drifting over towards where we often kept his wellies. I knew just what fun he was looking to find.

I conceded easily enough, seeing as it was both his day as well as mine, and smiled with a gesture of my chin, “Go on then, but brush your teeth and find some proper clothes, then we can head on over. Alright?”

Teddy’s head shook up and down in rapid succession, already bolting up out of his seat to make a run for his bedroom. Matty wore an inquisitive look once it was just him and I, both of us sat on opposite sides of the table.

“The park.” I informed the singer, fiddling with the handle of my now empty mug whilst my eyes kept sliding back and forth from the counter to Matty himself.

The man simply hummed and leaned back in his seat, I was forced to watch on as he cast his eyes about the rest of my kitchen, taking his fill now that he had a moment to finally do so. I swallowed and struggled with the unforeseen worries of what he might see, what he might think of it all.

I wasn't well off, by any means. But I had a decent income, enough to provide for Teddy and I, as well as live comfortably. Though if the radio show suddenly dipped and we lost most of our viewing, then there’d be a whole different story to be told.

Even so, it was a much different life to the one Matty lived. That much I knew. So it wasn't too strange of me to wonder whether or not it met any of his standards. And how it alone made me feel.

“How old then?”

The question startled me somewhat, enough that I blinked and looked up at him without thought. My brows furrowed a tad and so he continued, “Teddy- was that it?” And at my nod of confirmation, he smiled at me for another answer, “How old is he?”

Caught off guard still, I gaped for a second and then forced myself to reply, “Um, four, he’ll be five soon enough.”

“Wow.” Was what Matty replied with in a soft murmur, his head moving in an ever so slight nod, “A good age though.” At my questioning look, he chuckled, “Or so I’ve been told.”

I hummed, mostly amused, then fiddled with one of the many pens Teddy had left behind at the table.

“They’ve all been good so far- the ages.” I said to him, rather stupidly, and grimaced around a low laugh at myself, “Just, I mean he’s a good kid, is all.”

Matty was smiling at me when I glanced back up, his eyes squinting with the strength of it. He knocked his fist on the table lightly, “Seems it. Just wish you’dve mentioned him sooner.”

I frowned at that, lips pursing as my nose wrinkled. I didn’t much like the way he’d phrased that last bit, because it’s not that I wasn’t proud of Teddy, I was always showing him off, constantly even. But I also didn’t feel as though everyone had the right to see to that. “Yeah, well he’s not a secret I’ve kept hidden. It’s just safer mostly.”

It was Matty’s turn to frown then, seemingly offended by the offhand remark. “What and that includes me, does it? You think that I’d be a danger to him?”

I stared back at him, brow dipped a tad, eyes squinted. Because I hadn’t meant to hurt him, far from, though could he really blame me for being cautious, for having wanted to keep Teddy away for as long as I had? 

“No,” I answered him, and it was an honest one, “But only now, after having known you as long as I have. I mean, you can’t really be surprised by the fact that I didn’t mention him in the beginning, Matty. I hardly knew you! I’d only ever had the picture that’d been painted of you in my head, I didn’t want that around him.”

He scoffed quietly at that and I heard the way his boot kicked out under the table as he shuffled further back in his chair to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah and what about now then?”

He had me there, I supposed. I sighed and raised a hand to rub at my tired eyes, this wasn't a conversation I had planned for yet, let alone on a morning like this.

“It’s hard, okay? It’s hard to know when to introduce him to new people, he’s only ever really known those closest to me, and after that it’s just been his nursery teacher and the handful of kids in his class.” I explained, watching Matty and hoping he heard the truth in my words, “And you’re this fucking celebrity people love, you’ve got places to be, fans to meet! I never once thought that you’d stick around, not for as long as you have at least. Or that you’d eventually pull me into your life.”

He looked up then, expression so carefully made. “And that’s a bad thing?”

I folded in on myself a little at his question. Unsure.

Matty rolled his lips together and dipped his chin in a slow nod, “Right.”

“Matty, it’s not like that.” I tried.

He was quick with his reply though, all but leaning into the table’s edge now, “Then what’s it like, Mouse?”

He hardly ever called me Mouse, from the day we’d met it had always been Squeaks.

I dragged a hand over my face and then into my hair, perhaps in hopes to bide my time, but mainly because I felt cornered. How was I supposed to tell Matty how much I valued him? His chaotic presence in my life, his texts and calls, his friendship. It was something I hadn’t known I’d needed, but he’d come along and surprised me. He had stuck around, even when I thought he wouldn’t, and he wasn’t asking for anything more than just my company. He didn’t have an ulterior motive, some trick up his sleeve. Or at least that’s what I believed.

“Does this change things, knowing I have a son?” I heard myself ask him, it was a genuine curiosity but I also had to know. I didn’t want to be strung along or let Matty into Teddy’s life like I had Finn and Adi, only for him to then up and leave when he finally grew bored of the normality of it all.

Matty simply stared back at me, those brown eyes of his narrowed as they flittered back and forth between my own, his lips parted slightly as he thought the question over.

“Do you want it to?”

And that hadn’t been the answer I was expecting.

Instantly I shook my head, dropping the pen so that my hands could fall limply into my lap. “Of course not, I like having you around, Matty. Me keeping Teddy from you has nothing to do with that.”

He continued to watch me.

Then finally he conceded with a prompt nod and I felt myself breathe in. “So, the park. Is there a spare invitation going?”

I let the air go in a stilted chuckle, smiling at the common ground he’d gifted us but also at the image of Matty messing about in a playground of all places. “Yes, yeah, ‘course.” I assured him, “Just, be prepared for any puddles, alright? He will soak you if you're within five feet of the splashzone.”

Matty finally laughed too, this soft thing I hadn’t really ever heard from him before, not in this way at least, and then grinned, whirling around in his seat when a stomping toddler came darting back into the room.

“Wellies ta!”

My eyes fell closed as I released another heavy sigh, “Please! Teds. Remember? Please, not ta.”

Teddy merely blinked back up at me and so I decided it would have to be a battle picked for yet another day. 

“Fine, go get them then.”

Matty snorted unhelpfully, which brought him to Teddy’s attention once more. “Need help with ‘em, little man?” He asked, raising a brow at me in hopes that it’d be okay.

I swallowed but ultimately nodded, I couldn’t not when Teddy’s curls started bouncing wildly with the nodding of his head at the question.

And so, I watched them go, Matty taking Teddy’s extended hand, praying that I hadn’t made a massive mistake here. Hoping that somehow Matty would prove me wrong and stay, for a little while.

–

The days after Matty’s impromptu visit came with little to no fuss, it was only when the man wasn’t in the studio that was on the phone to me- and by extension, Teddy as well, who’d taken quite the shine to him. Who could’ve known, hey?

Still, it was a massive change of pace. For me at least, I hadn’t managed to get a read on how Matty felt about it all, but I had yet to worry over it. Mostly because of the Christmas period and how stressed I’d been.

“Finn, I swear he’s driving me out of my mind!” I complained down the phone to my best mate, the thing was currently perched between my shoulder and ear whilst I attempted to throw my hair up into a half-arsed bun, if only to keep it out of my face. “The mess! I mean, it’s like a tornado’s gone and ripped its way through my flat!”

“He’s four, babe.” Came Finn’s unhelpful response. I huffed.

“Exactly! Four, how can someone so small create such a massive mess?” I stressed, trying to clear away as much of the clutter my living room was presently made up of as quickly as I could. “Mam’s gonna be here in,” I glanced hurriedly over at the clock on the far wall and felt my anxiety spike, “Just over an hour! I can’t let her walk into a bombsite!”

Finn laughed at that and so I scowled in retort, even if he couldn’t see me through the phone.

“Finn!” I admonished.

“Alright, sorry! It’s just, she’s your mum, babe. She won’t care what the flat looks like.” He tried to soothe me as he moved about on the other side, doing whatever it was that he was doing. “Why’s he made such a mess anyway?”

I gritted my teeth as I stepped on yet another rogue piece of Lego and just dropped down to start rounding everything and anything I could possibly see into a great big tub. 

“He’s excited, wanted to look nice for when mam shows up but also wanted to showcase to her all of his drawings and sculptures.” I told him, grimacing at the penstained action figure I picked up before tossing it amongst the heap too. “I’ve been in the kitchen mostly, cooking for when she arrives, so I didn’t really bear witness to the fact that he’d taken my permission and flipping run with it! You should see my front room, Finn.” I shook my head for the umpteenth time since I’d walked in and blinked at the chaos I’d been met with, “It’s a proper tip.”

I was given a resounding chuckle once more and simply decided to slump there on the floor, glad to note that most of everything had now been packed into the box. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.

“Finn, I don’t even want to go and see what his bedroom looks like as of right now. I can just picture how his wardrobe’s been overturned and all of his clothes have been tossed about the room.” 

I forced myself up onto my feet then, halfheartedly listening to Finn’s reply. I still needed to sort myself out before anything else and that thought alone stressed me out further.

And of course! Of course it would be in that exact moment that the doorbell went.

“Fuck.” I mumbled to myself, but found my feet already taking me towards the door. I paused only briefly by the mirror to catch sight of the mess my hair was in and tugged it free in hopes it’d help somewhat, “Listen babe, sorry for all my whinging but I’d best go. Door’s just gone and I’m guessing it’ll be that parcel I’ve been waiting on.”

“Cutting it pretty late there.” Finn said and I couldn’t agree more. It was the 23rd, Christmas was now only days away and still I’d yet to receive it- even after having ordered it well over three weeks ago!

“Fucking hell, tell me about it,” I groaned, opening the door up to be met with the sight of a big wrapped box blocking my vision. My forehead wrinkled in utter confusion, “Um, Finn? I really am going to have to call you back.”

“Why, what’s happened? Don’t leave me hanging! Who is it!”

The parcel dropped down an inch then to reveal a familiar grin and shining eyes. 

“Surprise?”

I hurriedly hung up the phone and shoved it into my back pocket, the feeling of bewilderment unable to override the instant worries that washed over me about what a state I must've looked. But I bullied those thoughts back down, ignoring the massive part of me that was currently screaming at the entire situation, for whatever reason I couldn’t even begin to really understand, cause it was just Matty, right? And instead propped myself up against the doorframe.

“What’s this then?” I asked, unable to help my smile when he was looking back at me seemingly so pleased with himself.

“Christmas, in’t it?” He replied all too easily, shaking the rather large present he held in his grasp to further the point.

“I can see that.” I chuckled, shaking my head a little at the picture he made, all bundled up on my front doorstep practically dwarfed by the box he’d brought along. “I just thought you were headed home today.”

He shrugged, an action that was made funnier by the large parcel, but continued smiling, “Meant to, just couldn’t leave without seeing you lot first.”

I blinked, startled by his words. But grinned when he merely widened both his eyes in exaggeration.

“It is fucking freezin’ out here, you know! Could invite a mate in.” Matty reminded me, so I hummed, mulling it over. But he wasn’t one to give up too easily and bribery appeared to be his best tactic here, “I’ve got presents. So open up or they’re going back.”

I narrowed my eyes in turn, “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but darling I would.”

I found myself grinning at him again, something I tended to do whenever he was around it seemed. There was just something about him, I supposed. 

He went to take a step back then and I relented all too easily. “Alright.” I laughed, opening the door up wider to allow him in. Matty all but jumped over the threshold, bringing the cold in with him, and whilst he set about shaking off his coat I went to close the door behind him, only to be stopped by a bright red coat.

“Oh, thanks.” I said in surprise to the postie that managed to time his arrival so perfectly. “Thank you,” I repeated for good measure, shooting my head up from the packaged parcel he’d handed me, “Happy Holidays!” He grinned in return, already taking off back down the steps and parroting the same sentiment to me.

I finally managed to shut the door after that and was met with a ruddy-faced Matty, who was wrapped in a big jumper I was immediately jealous of.

“Last minute present?” He wondered with a smirk and I waved him off.

“Ordered it weeks ago, got here just in time.”

Matty hummed and turned back to glance down at the big box that now rested against my hallway radiator, level with my hip it seemed. “Where is the monster?” He asked me, using the name both he and Teddy had taken a liking to.

My brow furrowed slightly. “You really didn’t have to, Matty.” I said to him quietly, looking down at the present he’d gotten for my son. 

He was having none of it though, rolled his eyes in fact and hunched over to pick the box up again. “Shut up.”

I snorted and couldn’t help but bite back, “You shut up.”

“Real mature, sweetheart. Ain’t you parents meant to be all boring and nice?” Matty quipped as he wandered his way into my living room, I breathed in a sigh of relief when I followed behind and found that my efforts in cleaning hadn’t been in vain.

“Ha ha. Should’ve taken up comedy.” I retorted to him, fixing a few pillows that sat askew on the settee, something to which Matty also rolled his eyes at.

“Nah, band makes more money.” He answered easily, like he’d thought about it before, as he glanced about for the best place to put the box.

“By the tree if you want, or you can leave it next to the chair so he’ll see it when he barrels in.”

Matty laughed and went with the latter. “You been alright then?” He asked me, taking the time to glance at all the holiday cards that rested on the mantelpiece nearby.

“Yeah,” I sighed with a small smile, “Hectic but that’s expected, isn’t it?”

He shot me a warm grin, nodding. “Christmas, babe.” Was all he replied with, which was fair enough, then he went to reach out to pick up a picture frame of me and a very very tiny Teddy. “When was this?”

I stepped closer and smiled down at the photo, “I was still in hospital with him then, my midwife took it.”

Matty hummed, looking down at it with a soft smile. It was then that I heard a thump sound somewhere down the hall, so I released a weighted breath and forced myself to step away, “I’ve got to go check on Teddy, he wanted to dress himself this morning and he’s been way too quiet.”

With another laugh, Matty let me go, nosing through more of the photos and cards which sat along the shelf. Something I could understand, he’d only been here just twice before, but even still, he didn’t care for how blatant he was with his nosing. 

I took the parcel with me as I went, slipping into my bedroom to unwrap and grin down at it. It was Matty’s, which is why its arrival had been so perfect. I'd begun to think that I would have to give it to him the next time I saw him. But now was as good a time as ever.

In a rush, I pulled out a gift bag and some coloured tissue paper, having no time to actually wrap it, and plopped it in. Making my way into the next room to see where Teddy had gotten to.

When I pushed his door open further than it was, I was only slightly surprised by the state of it. The rugrat in question, though, was stood by his wardrobe door, pulling an array of funny faces in its mirror.

“Oi mister, what you been up to?”

Teddy startled slightly at my voice but was giggling when he spun around to spot me. “Got dressed myself.” He stated, pointing proudly at the t-shirt he’d managed to pull on.

“Hm, so you have!” Taking in the jeans and tee combo he’d picked, I then grinned over at him, “Looking good, boyo. Could be a little stylist when you’re older, you know!”

Teddy gave me one of his impish grins and then darted over towards me. “No!” He dragged out in reply, hands clutching at my legs now he was near, his sweet mischievous face staring up at me, “Gone be like you.”

I had to press my lips together then to keep the strength of my smile at bay, his words making my heart swell. “You little charmer.” I chuckled, running a hand through his unruly locks, “Come on though, you’ve got a visitor.”

His eyes widened as he jumped back to rock onto the balls of his feet. “Mémé?” He asked excitedly and I almost felt bad about it not being her, but I knew how much Teddy had also grown to like Matty in the recent days so I wasn't too fussed.

I shook my head, “Not yet, soon though. But somebody else came to see you.”

Teddy’s eyebrows rose as he thought about who it could be and so, knowing that we could possibly be here all day, I started to steer him out into the hallway.

“Finny?” He asked, then, “Santa?”

I snorted, then shook my head to both. “Nope and no. Why don’t we just go see, hey?”

And with that I pushed the door to the living room open wider and watched on as Teddy gasped at the sight of the curly haired frontman standing by our settee.

“Matty!” He all but squealed, practically catapulting himself across the room to make a dive for the man.

Matty laughed, though also seemed startled by the reaction he’d garnered. He swept Teddy up though, all the same, and jostled him around before settling the toddler on his hip, eyes bright with something when they glanced over at me. I smiled, a heavy feeling settling itself in my chest.

“Alright, mate? What you been up to?” Matty asked Teddy, falling back onto the cushions behind them and stationing the toddler next to him.

Teddy replied in earnest, excited to tell Matty all the tales he had stored away since the last time they’d spoken, which had been a few nights previous over a FaceTime call. 

I shook my head in amusement and trailed over towards the kitchen, silenting motioning to Matty to see if he wanted a drink. The answer, as always, was yes and so I set about brewing him his usual, along with my own, taking the time to clean myself up a bit too.

By the time I walked back in, Teddy had just about finished telling Matty all the details of his last day at nursery (they’d had a party), which I’m sure the man had already heard about, but who acted as though it was the most brilliant story he’d ever been told. 

“One coffee.” I said in greeting, placing the two mugs onto coasters before taking a perch on the armchair by them.

“Ta.” Matty replied, grinning madly when Teddy cackled gleefully and repeated the word over and over. I rolled my eyes at the pair of them and took a calming sip of tea, unaware of how much I’d been in dire need of it. Whoever claimed Sunday’s were a day of rest, were liars.

“He spotted it yet then?” I asked aloud, already knowing the answer seeing as how I didn’t currently have a bouncing Teddy on my hands.

The toddler’s face wrinkled in confusion and he shot his head over to see me, I grinned from behind my mug. “Huh?” He sounded.

Matty hid his next snort well but then hummed too, pushing forward in his seat to grab at his coffee. “Oh his present, you mean?”

That had Teddy’s head spinning. “Where!”

“Manners, bubs.” I reminded, and Teddy nodded so quickly I was honestly a little worried about the whiplash he might face before his eyes were back on Matty.

“Please, present?” Teddy asked, pouting up at the curly haired man with a sudden urgency, his words butchered by his missing bottom teeth.

Matty chuckled, glad for the fact that he’d put his coffee back down in the toddler's haste, and then gestured his head over to the right. “You mean that one?”

Teddy’s eyes, if even possible, widened further, eyebrows reaching the tips of his curls and mouth dropping open as he finally spotted it.

“For me?” He gasped in awe, shuffling down Matty’s leg to approach it, all of his movements now slow as if his shock was stopping him from reacting typically. 

I leaned forward to watch on and Matty did the same, obviously nervous for Teddy’s reaction.

“For you, mate. Was walking by this shop the other day and spotted it, thought of you.” Matty told him seriously, smiling too whilst he wrung his hands together, foot tapping anxiously away, though unaware of it.

Teddy looked back at him, chewing on his bottom lip carefully, taking two more steps before he was touching the wrapping. He oohed at it softly to himself but I caught the way Matty’s face brightened at the sound.

“‘pen now?” Teds asked, his eyes drifting away from the gift, towards me and Matty both.

Matty looked over at me then too, the same question echoed on his face. I nodded with a small smirk, “Go on.”

Teddy’s eyes lit up and he spun back around to marvel at it once more, “W’ats it?”

The snort that escaped me at his ask went unnoticed by the pair as Matty moved to join the toddler on the floor. “Gotta open it up and find out, I ‘spose.”

Teddy’s grin brightened and then he fell to his bum so that he could pull the present closer. “Help?”

Matty blinked at the request and I was witness to the way his throat bobbed before he nodded, “Yeah, sure mate. Here, pull this, alright?”

Teddy did as instructed, tugging on a small opening in the wrapping. 

I noted as he began to tear away at it, how oddly wrapped it really was, meaning that Matty had probably taken the time to wrap it himself. My chest tightened again at the thought.

“Box.” Teddy announced once all the wrapping paper had been discarded on the rug behind him, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from outright laughing at the befuddled expression he gave Matty.

The man had no qualms though, simply chuckled at the question and leaned in closer to force one side of the cardboard box up a little, “Gotta open up that too, monster.”

Teddy’s brows drew together in concentration as he followed Matty’s lead, forcing the lid open more before a loud gasp escaped him. Matty went back to wringing his hands, fiddling with the rings on his fingers whilst I moved over to the settee to get a look too.

My expression faltered at the sight of the beautiful gift Matty had given Teddy. Inside the box rested a guitar in an incredible shade of deep blue, it was small enough for Teddy to hold whilst also being big enough for him to grow with. Even with my obsessive love for music, not once had I ever really thought about buying Teddy such a thing, not one of this calibre at least. It must've cost a fortune.

“Matty.” I whispered, but the man didn’t even spare a look my way, eyes trained on my toddler, trying to garner his reaction.

“You know what it is, mate?” He asked after a moment and Teddy’s little head dipped in a slow nod. Because I knew he knew, he danced around constantly pretending to have one in his hands whenever we had the tele or radio on. Where there was music blaring, there would also be a Teddy playing air guitar.

“‘tar.” Teddy stated in a soft voice, both Matty and I smiled at the way he said it, but the former nodded, pulling the instrument out of the box so that Teddy could get a closer look.

“Cool right?”

Teddy nodded silently again, reaching out a hand to carefully touch the wooden neck, blinking and reeling back when a string strummed. Before he then giggled and reached out once more.

Matty seemed to slump in relief, evidently glad that Teddy liked it. But I’d go as far to even say he adored it, never had he ever been so gentle with anything.

“Have you got something to say to Matty, Teds?” I prompted, ignoring the way my throat caught at the emotion I felt. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it.

Teddy pulled his eyes away from the guitar to gaze up at Matty as though he was something other. I merely blinked at the reaction and before I knew it Teddy had thrown himself into Matty’s arms, startling the man a tad. Matty welcomed him after a second though, glancing over the toddler’s head to share a look with me.

“T’ank you.” I heard Teddy muffle into the collar of Matty’s jumper then, actually saying the words this time. It seemed Matty knew what that meant too, because he tightened his hold on Teddy’s waist a little.

“You’re welcome, mate.”

The rest of Matty’s visit was used to teach Teddy a bit about the basics of a guitar, managing to play an E minor and get started on an A chord. Teddy listened to Matty with rapt attention, barely sparing anything else a second glance, which was startling for a toddler, let alone Teddy who was constantly go, go, go.

Watching them was all too lovely as well. For someone with such a cool front, Matty seemed to melt around Teddy, succumbing to that of the boy’s charm and easy going nature. It was sweet to see, surprising but endlessly sweet. Had me losing track of time, in truth. Which is why I jumped and cursed the way I did when the door finally knocked. 

“Mémé!”

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 11/04/2024

I will Never be a Redneck

Season 7 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume Sapphire

Ripped by Madinstance

Requested by Corb and uwustepanne! (Discord, Request Form) (@uwustepanne)

"I'm just kidding, this isn't a blue balls rip. However, you're going to wish it was. I warned you."

Can you IMAGINE being 601billionlazer and getting this rip for Secret SiIva 5?? You hear the silly blue balls and go oh, haha what fun, what a great little bit Madinstance, you always outdo yourself so its fun to see you've taken a funny step back here - only for the truth to be revealed and all hell to break loose? You hear the backing change and think, I swear I recognize that, there's no way he actually did it - the banjo comes in with a gleefully sinister pluck and reaffirms your suspicions. Madinstance fucking did it. The first proper rip uploaded as part of Season 7 introduced the year with a fucking bomb. I will Never be a Redneck.

And look, I've covered some One-Winged Angel rips on here already, One Winged PSYcho - V​.​S. Sepsyrop and Hen'yoku no Piraman - the latter even being made by Madinstance as well - but I feel like it needs to be stressed how thoroughly deranged this rip in particular is. We ALL know Cotton-Eye Joe, if not the original American country song then ABSOLUTELY the world-famous 1994 Eurodance version - one that, funny enough, was recorded by a Swedish band. Indeeds, its oddly befitting: A culture clash between my homeland, and the nation where a majority of SiIvaGunner's own audience and contributors live - the result is that ALL of us knew well what Cotton-Eye Joe was, a piece of our childhoods for some, or at least for me. Yet its prevalence on SiIvaGunner had been comparatively tame in comparison to that popularity, only appearing in some modest mashups and melodyswaps in Season 1 - seven whole years before Madinstance deployed the nuclear option. Realizing that this overplayed icon of a song even had the ability to be remixed in such a fashion positively blew my mind - I won't sugarcoat it, I will Never be a Redneck completely floored me.

And like, in some ways its to be expected, right? Madinstance is incredible, he continues to show up on here with rips like Initial Deluxe (I've Just Raced on this Course Before) and Fell From a High Place (Reprise) for a reason - his prowess for these large-scale projects feels like it shouldn't even be humanly possible. I remarked back in Hen'yoku no Piraman just how much the recent trend of One Winged Angel rips impresses me, how each one feels as if the ripper is truly showcasing their worth whilst dedicating it all to the glory of a single meme. That still stands, yes, but to apply it to a song that otherwise had near-no prevalence on SiIvaGunner, no standard set for how remixing it ought to go: To have my FIRST ever time hearing Cotton-Eye Joe pitch shifted be in this absolute behemoth feels downright criminal. And its even crazier how it WORKS the whole way through.

The amount of touches present to make this feel as cohesive as it does is staggering. The chorus' titular line of "Cotton-Eye Joe" replaces the use of "Sephiroth!" in the base track perfectly, the original song's violin instrumental breaks between the chorus and verses are pitch shifted into the ominous tone of One Winged Angel's equivalent instrumental breaks, the banjo going off the shits in the longer break from the main melody midway through the track...really, its incredible how much of the original track's excitement and danceable fun suddenly sound so ominous, with changes so deliberate, substantial yet conservative enough to not lose the Cotton-Eye Joe feel - this ALWAYS sounds like the right amount of both tracks in balance. I love how the song's chanting "Hey-hey-hey-heyys" suddenly sound akin to One Winged Angel's latin choir song, how the vocals of the chorus repeat in a somewhat staggered, haunting way near the rip's end - like Beautiful Dreamer or My Dr. Eggman Can't Be This Evil!, its remarkable just how drastic the change of tone becomes through rips like this.

Most of all though, it is that gradual realization of what you're listening to that has made I will Never be a Redneck such a classic for me - NOBODY could've anticipated it based on the channel's past history, and nobody would've expected THIS would be the way that Season 7 would officially "start". Yet its the kind of rip you can send to anyone - both songs are immediately recognizable, and the effort put in to making the two work in tandem is unmistakably impressive. uwustepanne, who wrote in to request this be covered, included a short anecdote with her write-in, about how this rip showing up in her YouTube feed was what made her realize the channel hadn't ended with Season 6's finale, that I will Never be a Redneck in a way represents everything she loves about the channel, the impact its had on her. And yeah - isn't it crazy how a rip as cracked as this one, still wound up facing incredibly stiff competition for rip of the Season?? 2023 was one of SiIvaGunner's greatest-ever years, and seeing a rip like I will Never be a Redneck uploaded at its very start felt almost like they'd set the bar far too high for the rest of the team. Yet somehow, someway, everyone else was up to the challenge and continued making absolutely incredible rips throughout the entire year. Madinstance continues to raise the bar of quality on the channel at almost every turn, and having him do it at the Season's very start - with a rip as out-of-this-world as I will Never be a Redneck to boot - remains as an absolute power move.

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 24

Today's theme is Obsession.

Enjoy a character study of our darling prophet.

==========================================

Many in the studio looked at Sammy's obsession with the Ink Demon and thought him a fool. After all, what was the point in worshipping something more likely to kill you than reward you?

But Sammy was no fool.

Although he might not have been completely sure what powers the Ink Demon had, he knew the Ink Demon was capable of much more than the average ink creature. The Ink Demon had power. What that power was, Sammy wasn't sure, but he knew it was power no one else in the studio possessed. Save, perhaps, for that man whose face seemed so strangely familiar. And while Sammy was well aware the Ink Demon couldn't care less about him, he knew it was safer to try to appease the Demon than make himself an enemy of it.

Sammy Lawrence was a follower at heart. He always had been. Loathe as he was to admit it, in the depths of his heart he knew it to be true. He called others sheep, but he knew he was the greatest sheep. He needed someone powerful to follow. An obsession calmed him. It gave him a purpose, a direction.

Maybe that was why he hadn't tried to escape from this strange prison he'd found himself in. His purpose had been taken from him. That man claimed the Ink Demon had been destroyed. Although Sammy didn't believe this claim, he knew something had happened to the Ink Demon. Something terrible. Sammy's worldview had been shattered. Everything had changed and he didn't know what to do anymore.

"Why not just follow our captor?" The Angel had mocked him when they'd occupied the cells together. "Be a good little sheep and follow your new shepherd."

But Sammy would not follow Wilson. The Ink Demon was cruel and capricious, yes, but there was no malice behind his actions. He didn't hate them. But Wilson did. Every time he spoke to Sammy, he could hear the disdain in the other man's voice, the sheer loathing Wilson possessed for the creatures of the ink that populated this place. And Sammy refused to follow a man like that.

So, he remained in his cell and he played his banjo, praying his congregation could forgive him these trespasses.

[liraspins]

@bucketkicked

The new stolen headphones that only really worked on one side didn't allow Lira to hear the subway that crossed close behind her, even slightly touched her backpack, as she jogged across the rails. She was worried that her spot was already taken by that weird violin lady again, so she was in a rush. Luckily almost getting hit by a subways was worth it. Her spot was free. It was a good spot, greatly visible and right where concerned hipsters would leave their change to the poor street musician after visiting various cafes. Today didn't seem any different Lira thought after starting to play her first few folk songs. The money was okay, the people were fake friendly, what else could you ask for in a good work environment? Just as she was finishing her last song before her break her look trailed off into the crowds of people, constantly moving. Except for this one person. Her gaze got stuck on two shaded lenses. Suddenly a shiver rushed over her, the adrenaline of someone who just almost got hit by a train and actually witnessed it.

Sunglasses? But it's already getting dark? Lira couldn't quite explain how or why, but she felt strange as she continued to stare at the woman who was apparently watching her play. Strange in a good way. Most times, when she was relatively sober at least, Lira would just shoo watchers away with a polite smile. But feeling stupid for the sheer amount of seconds she had already been staring, she decided to let the extrovert in her improvise. "Billy Talent is that you?" she exclaimed teasingly, pointing at the lady to break the awkwardness. Shortly she had her banjo back up and loosely strummed the chords to 'sunglasses at night'. Something inside her was wanting the lady to come to her spot, which was for street musicians always a minus; having some normal person standing around talking to you. Did she see her before? Somehow, this lady seemed so familiar to Lira. She's probably just here often.

[thislovintime]

Photo 4 by Henry Diltz.

A look at some specific books mentioned by Peter over the years...

- How To Play the Five-String Banjo: "Pete Seeger’s book was very, very good. He’s a lively writer as well as a very good musician, a good teacher, good, very enthusiastic kind of all around person. So it was very good to learn from his book. And I recommend the book highly if anybody ever wanted to learn how to play folk-style five-string banjo, his is the book to learn from.” - Peter, Headquarters radio, 1989 (x)

- Naked Lunch: “In Melbourne last night Peter Tork said that Sydney airport Customs officers had seized from his bag the banned book ‘The Naked Lunch,’ by William Burroughs. A Customs officer had taken one look at the book and said, ‘I’ll have that. It’s banned here.’ […] ‘It is a good book,’ Tork said. 'I was just getting interested it. It’s sold out everywhere back home. I didn’t know it was banned here.’” - The Sydney Morning Herald, September 17, 1968 (x)

- Letters to a Young Poet: One question posed to Peter for the Ask Peter Tork column in 2008 was, “Do you think [becoming a writer is] worth a try, or do you suggest I 'keep my day job'?” From Peter's reply: “What writers I know of say is, if you want to be a writer, you’re probably not going to do very well. If you must write, then write! Do you see the difference? Rainer Marie Rilke wrote 'Letters to a Young Poet,' which I recommend on this point. (It’s a small book, and cheap at the bookstore, and free at your library.)”

 -Why Do I Say Yes When I Need To Say No?: Escaping The Trap Of Temptation by Michelle McKinney Hammond: “Some years ago there was a movement afoot to separate assertiveness from aggressiveness, which I heartily endorse to this day. 'Why Do I Say Yes When I Mean No,' is, I believe the name of one book that tackles this subject.” - Peter, Ask Peter Tork, 2008

- Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind: “I recommend sitting in Zen meditation. The best book I know for that is Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, by Shunryu Suzuki. It’s all about watching your own mind rather than obeying it as tho’ it were the infallible voice of the truth.” - Peter, Ask Peter Tork, 2008

- The Sayings of Buddha: “The Sayings of Buddha (a small, inexpensive book you can find in almost any book store) always rests on the night-table beside my bed. I find that ancient wisdom, meditation and contemplation puts my mind in order and brings me great serenity. These things also broaden my scope of understanding.” - Peter, 16, September 1968

- Stranger in a Strange Land: “One of my favorite books now is Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein. It’s about the orphan child of the first Martian explorers. He grows to twenty-one years of age before he’s discovered by the second expedition to Mars which rescues him. He comes back to Earth, having been raised by the Martians — really fascinating!" - Peter, Fave, March 1968

- More Than Human: “Another writer I dig is Theodore Sturgeon, one of the greatest science fiction writers alive today. He visited our set one day and we were all very thrilled. He’s a visionary and a mystic, really one of the giant talents of the day. I hope everybody reads him. He wrote a book called More Than Human and a lot of other novels and short stories.” - Peter, Fave, March 1968

Q: "You read a book a day. Of all the books you have read, which three are your favorites and why?" A: "No, I don’t read a book a day. I sometimes spend weeks on a book. Of all the books I’ve read, my favorites are 'The Book Of [Tao],' 'Stranger In A Strange Land' and oh, I don’t know, a whole mess of other books, because they turn me on—they get to me." - Monkee Spectacular, January 1968

- The Book of Tao: “Peter also reads The Book of the Tao… all about an ancient Chinese nature philosophy with some simple, beautiful and meaningful messages in it. He studies all kinds of different religions, too. Peter has now figured out his own religion, what seems closest to Truth for him. It’s the result of much studying, thinking and sorting out. Peter was also influenced by the Oriental philosophies Zen. ‘Zen Buddhism believes in the theory of sudden enlightenment or sudden awakening. This idea is Japanese. I believe that Truth can just come to you in a sudden flash and you’ll know where it’s all at, if you prepare yourself to receive it. ‘Zen also teaches that you should just go along and live your life as best you can from minute to minute, always living in the present. You’re already there and there’s nothing else. If you can make the most of each day, accomplish and learn all you can now, you’ll get so much more done in your lifetime than if you sit around waiting for tomorrow to come. Because when tomorrow gets here it’s just another today. You end up just waiting and putting things off and nothing ever gets done. So, try to make each minute count!’” - Fave, March 1968

- Upanishads: "[Peter] starts clowning around [on set], but after a bit he settles down and starts reading a book. He sees you looking and explains, ‘This is a book of some of the excerpts of the Upanishads. Actually, these are excerpts from ancient Hindu writings. I guess you could say that in a sense they are like the Bible, only they were written many centuries before the old testament.’ Peter stops speaking for a moment. ‘Am I boring you?’ he asks gently. After you assure him that he is not boring anyone, he continues, ‘Well, the Upanishads are simply but beautifully written. I mean, they are quite easy to understand. You can buy the Mentor pocket edition for about 50 cents —′ Just about that time, Peter becomes aware of 16’s camera focusing on him. He promptly becomes a clown again, laughing and joking and holding his book myopically up to his eyes. You realize that you have just had a glimpse of the real Peter Tork — the sensitive, sincere young man who hides behind the veneer of a silly-funny Monkee. And it makes you feel very warm that for a brief moment you have glimpsed Peter Tork’s secret self." - 16, February 1968

- Autobiography of a Yogi: As Henry Diltz recalled (in Laurel Canyon: A Place In Time), “I remember giving one to Peter on The Monkees set. I did a group shot of them sitting on a couch and he was reading the Yogananda book. I always felt so good about that.”

[finnickodaiir]

Okay, so I've been doing the "re-listen and rate all the 11 albums" thing. I did Debut on Wednesday, so today it's Fearless's turn!

1. Fearless. What an opening!! Easily in her top 3 opening tracks. Seeing this in the Eras and doing the 🫶 was one of my fave moments of 2023. Rating: 10/10

2. Fifteen. While I don't revist this song super often, I still think it's great and quite touching. My favorite lyric is, "But I found time can heal most anything, and you might just find who you're supposed to be". Rating: 9/10

3. Love Story. This is the first Taylor song I ever heard in 2010, so I'll always have a soft spot for it. But it's also genuinely a perfect song. Rating: 10/10.

4. Hey Stephen. Super cute and iconic. "All those girls, well they're beautiful, but would they write a song for you?", you'll always be famous. Rating: 8.5/10

5. White Horse. You guys give this song too much hate. It's s not her worst track 5 by any means. You guys just don't get her like I do. My favorite lyric is "Maybe I was naive, got lost in your eyes and never really had a chance.My mistake, I didn't know to be in love you had to fight to have the upper hand.". Rating: 8.5/10.

6. You Belong With Me. Banger of all time! Been there, too, Nerdy Taylor in the mv. Rating: 10/10.

7. Breathe. One of my fave deep cuts. There aren't a lot of friendship breakup songs out there, so I'm glad she exists. My favorite lyric is, "Nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall out". Rating: 10/10

8. Tell Me Why. The fiddles here give me life. It has a lot of good lyrics, my favorite one is "You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day". Rating: 8/10.

9. You're Not Sorry. Gonna piss a lot of people off, but I genuinely don't like this song much aside from a few lines and the production. I just find it rather boring, and it's really similar to White Horse because both songs are about not forgiving an ex and going your own way after finding out they were cheating on you. I do like the first few verses. My favorite lyric is "And it's taken me this long baby, but I figured you out" and I love the guitars and violins, but yes, I don't have a lot of positive things to say about this song. Rating: 6/10.

10. The Way I Loved You. What a banger!! The guitars, the banjo, everything!! Chorus of all time, which also has my fave lyrics in this song. My favorite lyric is Rating: 10/10.

11. Forever & Always. Another perfect song! And late 2022 me really related to this (fun fact F&A was written on the same day I went through a friendship breakup that had me blasting this the rest of that day). My favorite lyric is, "Was I out of line? Did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?". Rating: 10/10

12. The Best Day. I get why some people may not like it, but I love it. Favorite lyrics are, "I'm thirteen now and don't know how my friends could be so mean. I come home crying, and you hold me tight and grab the keys, and we drive and drive until we found a town far enough away, and we talk and window shop till I've forgotten all their names", because yeahh... anyways. Rating: 9/10.

13. Change. Love the production, but lyrically, it is weak. I don't 100% agree this is Long Live 1.0, because Change feels more like a rousing speech, while Long Live feels more like a celebration of their achievements, declaring that in case everything goes wrong she hopes everyone will look back fondly on their times together. My favorite lyric is, "Because these things will change. Can you feel it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down". Rating: 6.5/10.

14. Jump Then Fall. This song is cute and all, but I just think Hey Stephen is better tbh. My favorite lyric is, "The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry, but I'll hold you through the night until you smile." Rating: 7/10.

15. Untouchable. I've debated whether rating this song or not since it's just a cover, but since it's on both the 2009 Platinum version and on Fearless TV, I'm rating it. I think her vocals here are quite good, and I love the country rearrangement. My favorite lyric is, "In the middle of the night, we can form this dream, I wanna feel you by my side, standing next to me. You gotta come on, come on, say that we'll be together." Rating: 8.5/10.

16. Forever and Always (Piano Version). Since this is genuinely another version of the song with different vocals and production, and not just a remix, I'm rating it. While it's not my preferred version of the song, I think it's a nice rendition. Rating: 8/10.

17. Come In With The Rain. Soo underrated, her vocals are quite nice, and the production is really good. Rating: 8/10

18. Superstar. I don't get why you all hate this song. Is it the best platinum track? No, but it's not the worst one when Jump Then Fall is right there. Rating: 7.5/10.

19. The Other Side of The Door. Another banger of the century. One of her best outros!! Rating: 10/10.

20. Today Was A Fairytale. Sooo cute, you are mean for hating on this one. Rating: 8/10.

21. You All Over Me. I'm gonna be honest, I'm not big on the Fearless vault tracks, because I feel like most of the truly great material made in either in the standard edition or the platinum edition, so what was left off was overall just alright imo. I don't dislike this song by any means, but I prefer production on the 2005 demo over the one on the Taylor's version because it just doesn't like a Debut/Fearless Taylor song and it sounds a little too polished (idk if it makes sense? Idk, the only time Aaron Dessner has let me down is when it comes to the Fearless Vault). Rating: 6/10.

22. Mr. Perfectly Fine. It's definitely the best vault track on Fearless! My favorite lyric is Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy". Rating: 10/10.

23. We Were Happy. I quite like this song, actually, but I prefer the demo production over the TV one. While it does feel more Fearless esque than You All Over Me TV, I didn't love how they switched it from the orchestral arrangement to a downtempo ballad one. Rating: 7.5/10.

24. That's When. Writing wise, this song makes no sense... but melodically, it's quite nice soooo... Rating: 6/10.

25. Don't You. I kinda hate this song... the lyrics are okay, I guess, but the production??? This sounds like a Midnights demo... why are you doing synths and vocal layering on the most awarded country album??? Rating: 5.5/10.

26. Bye Bye Baby. Well, I hate this one more, actually. I do like the lyric "It wasn't just like a movie, the rain didn't soak through my clothes down to my skin", because of how it contrasts with Fearless the song and her vocals here are nice, but everything else sucks imo. Rating: 5/10.

Overall score: 7.8/10 (counting the vault), 8.6/10 (if we're going off solely the original tracks).

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

World Domination or Death, Vol. 1 1990 Alternative Rock / Indie Rock / Goth Rock / Thrash Metal

So, according to a 1988 Rolling Stone profile that I just read about Björk's old band, The Sugarcubes, and the Icelandic music scene more broadly, the small island nation was pretty musically desolate until about 1981, when UK punk had finally made its way up there. And even after that, Iceland still only had one TV station and one radio station well into the 80s—both of which were state-owned—and the radio station almost exclusively played US top 40 fare.

So, given that landscape, it's then pretty remarkable just how downright weird Icelandic music managed to get so quickly by 1990, which is when this pretty eclectic sampler from The Sugarcubes' own label, Smekkleysa (Bad Taste in English), was released; because it wasn't like Icelanders had a collective easy access to any avantgarde traditions, and they certainly hadn't been organically forging their own either. But if all you and your fellow countrymen have access to for decades is US hits, then I guess the eventual backlash to that can and will turn out to be severe.

So, here's a strange brew of alternative Icelandic tunes that were recorded and released between 1986 and 1990. This label showcase's biggest draw is, naturally, The Sugarcubes, who were one of the first bands to ever receive attention from outside of Iceland (the first was jazz fusion band Mezzoforte; h/t to @dropdead-celebration), when their song, "Birthday," managed to peak at #2 on the UK's Indie chart in 1987, which then caused industry types and journalists to flock to the country itself in order to investigate just what the hell the conditions were like in this small, isolated nation that could lead a band to make something that sounds like that.

But while their exclusive, "My March," received its own sticker on the front of the CD's jewel case—so you'd know that this album had The Sugarcubes on it without having to pick it up and then turn it around in order to view its tracklist—there's actually another band on here that plays the nutty, hall-of-mirrors Sugarcubes style on here too, and with a very similar type of touched little girl vocalizations as Björk as well, but their pair of contributions are, dare I say it, actually better?

Reptile is a band that comes with the following assortment of instruments: your standard drums, guitar, bass, and keyboards, but also a saxophone, a violin, a banjo, and a marimba too. And while that combination sounds like something a bunch of smirking college stoners would probably torture their fellow classmates with, this group actually seems to squeeze out the best sound that anyone possibly ever could with what they have. "Gun Fun," which also appears on their only album, 1990's Fame and Fossils, and their exclusive, "Ó," really do sound a whole lot better than you'd think; a pair of quirky tunes that are unpredictably fun as hell.

But this album's not just made up of a Sugarcubes-type sound; there's also goth rock, thrash metal, industrial, even rockabilly, and also a band called Daisy Hill Puppy Farm (named after Snoopy's home), who deliver a song that totally flies in the face of the vibe that you'd think a band with that name would have; "Young Blood," which also ended up leading their final release, a 1989 12-inch called Spraycan, is a great, ploddingly heavy, downtempo indie rocker that sounds like it came from the States.

So, truth be told, I did not really end up enjoying most of this album, but it's still definitely interesting and worth it to hear some of the varied sounds that this little country that seemed to be pretty culturally isolated from the rest of the world for a really long time for was able to muster in such short order. Other places with far more ease in their many avenues of cultural access seem to have taken a whole lot longer to get to a similar point of weirdness when compared to this small island nation. And while weird stuff tends to stay underground and indie most everywhere else, it seems to not only just rise to Iceland's mainstream, but it becomes their most popular music attraction, overall.

Highlights:

Reptile - "Gun Fun" Reptile - "Ó" Daisy Hill Puppy Farm - "Youngblood"

[heritage-instrument-insurance]

The Story of Fiddle Instruments Evolution

Close your eyes and picture this: a fiddle snuggled comfortably in your hands. Just four strings and a bow, right? Simple, perhaps. But this little musical instrument holds a world of magic that has traversed the globe for centuries. It has been there for the lively jigs of Europe, the soulful whines of Appalachian evenings, and everything in between. The fiddle has been a companion, a storyteller, and a way to celebrate life's ups and downs. Simply put, this string has been a constant friend of the human spirit. Let’s know a bit more about it.

Europe: A Tapestry of Folk Fiddling

The fiddle's story starts way back. It begins with its medieval ancestors like the rebec – a pear-shaped string gear with just one drumhead! By the 16th century, the fiddle we know and love had taken shape. It was not just for fancy folks in castles either – it became a regular at lively parties and community gatherings in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Jigs, reels, and strathspeys were not just fun dance tunes. They were a way for people to show their spirit and keep going, even through tough times.

Meanwhile, over at the grand courts of Europe, it had a more sophisticated cousin – the violin. Famous composers like Corelli and Vivaldi wrote beautiful pieces for it. But the lines between fancy and folk music were not always distinct. Elegant dances like the gavotte and minuet found their way into village celebrations, and sometimes catchy folk melodies snuck into the grand ballrooms too.

All credit goes to trade and cultural exchange that the fiddle kept transforming and growing. The lively Celtic styles met up with the unique sounds of Scandinavia, where musicians loved using drones and special harmonies. In Eastern Europe, it became a part of klezmer music, the energetic and beautiful tradition of the Ashkenazi Jews. So, it is a whole family of sounds, constantly evolving and reflecting the cultures it touched. If you are lucky enough to have this gear, make sure to cover it under a comprehensive fiddle insurance policy.

The Fiddle Sails West: A New World Songbook

Across the Atlantic Ocean, European immigrants were not just carrying their belongings – they were carrying an absolute musical heritage in their trusty fiddles. In the melting pot of North America, the gear found a whole new way to sing.

For pioneers pushing westward, it became a steady partner. Small and easy to carry, it was perfect for livening up barn dances, community gatherings, or even a lonely night under the vast frontier sky. Tunes like "Soldier's Joy" and "Forked Deer" were not just catchy melodies. They echoed the struggles, the grit, and the deep longing for home the settlers fronted.

But the fiddle's story in America did not stop there. Up in the Appalachian Mountains, a unique blend of European, African, and maybe even Native American influences came together to create bluegrass music. The fiddle, alongside the banjo and mandolin, became the heart and soul of this new sound. Bluegrass fiddling is all about driving rhythms, fancy fingerwork, and sometimes even playing two notes at once (called double stops).

Its influence was not limited to just one region, though. Down in Louisiana, they joined forces with accordions to create the lively sounds of Cajun and Zydeco music. And even in American country music, it became a staple. Think of iconic artists like Johnny Cash and Charlie Daniels – their signature styles would not be the same without those unmistakable melodies. Therefore, industry experts recommend getting a dedicated fiddle insurance plan in the first place.

A Legacy That Endures

The string's journey is not over yet! Modern players like Alison Krauss and Mark O'Connor have been keeping things fresh by mixing old tunes with new ideas, making this gear a welcome guest in today's music scene.

So, what makes this instrument so special anyway? It is all about how adaptable it is. A skilled musician can use it to create wild, happy jigs that make you want to dance all night. But it can also be a gentle voice, expressing sadness in a mournful ballad. It is versatile.

[cloth0]

A rather lengthy post about my hallucination process, and how to waste a couple of hours

The setting: in The Office 8x13, when Jim and Pam bring their babies to the office, everybody is greeting them yatta yatta, and at some point Andy says about baby Philip: "He's licking on my finger just like my cat does." I remember being rather confused when I watched this scene, like... Andy has a cat?? Why I didn't know this? Why nobody (asfarasIknow) is exploiting this information for fan stuff???

But that huge discovery (!) just kinda sat in the cluttered back of my mind, collecting dust. Until today.

I was randomly recalling this scene (while taking a shower, the vapors from the scorching water really help my "creative process"), and the actual line of thought went something like:

Andy has a dog personality, and owns a cat

Oscar has a (dorky) cat personality, and owns a dog

-> cute + absolutely perfect

Uh, Angela owns multitudes of cats as well tho, how does it fit in the equation?

And so I started to connect the dots and I thought... But what if

What if after he discovers the cheating (possibly also after the honeymoons), Andy needs to speak to Angela to sort the last things out, like getting back the engagement ring etc, and maybe in the heat of the moment he's taken by spite or anyway tries to come back at Angela somehow, and

Andy: "... And I want Fili back!" Angela: "WHAT I'm not giving you Fili!" Andy: "I took her from the warehouse, I saved her. She's my cat, I want her back."

(Yup, I was thinking about the cat that Andy captured from the warehouse and gave to Angela to win her over, which in my head was i) a female cat, because yes, and ii) named Fili, which admittedly is a work-in-progress, I was trying to find a cute name that could have had a reference to the warehouse, so I went with Forklift>Foli>Fili, eh.)

And eventually Angela begrudgingly complies, and Andy finds himself with this cat, and has no idea what to do with her, but he's enthusiastic (as Andy does). The cat on the other hand is Less Than Thrilled, because cats notoriously do not like to change homes, plus she doesn't have her cat pals anymore, AND the human she's stuck with is clearly incompetent. So she strives to make her distress very clear by peeing on any available surface and staying the fuck away from Andy, engaging as little as possible (glaring at him while eating and hissing if he tries to get closer).

Andy is heartbroken. Not only her betrothed cheated on him, now not even the cat wants anything to do with him? How sad and pathetic is that? So he depressingly starts to think that maybe it's best for everybody to give Fili back to Angela.

But then one day he gets home and idk, maybe it was just a particularly bad day, maybe he blew yet another sale, maybe the whole 'missed wedding' affair just caught up with him, maybe all these things together, but he just flops on the couch and just sits there quietly, head in hands, trying to decompress and calm down.

And.

And Fili peers from a corner of the house and watches him with curiosity for a bit, then starts trotting to him, gets between his feet and starts playing with his dangling tie, which is extremely colorful as always and just so pretty. Andy opens his eyes, sees her and goes: "Oh hi".

The next morning he comes to the office with some very visible scratches on his face, to everyone's confusion/worry(/disinterest), and when Pam asks him if he is alright he just makes the brightest grin and answers: "Never been better!". And from there those two just clicked, and Fili steadily warms up to Andy, accepting to be patted and purring in return, snoozing contently on his lap while he plays his banjo/guitar, and generally do all the adorable mayhem a cat usually do, just being Andy's little princess.

After all this wild hallucination, I pondered the idea of actually writing something based on this scenario - the only real problem I saw was the 3-months period of Andy being on the damn boat. I could only see him leaving Fili to somebody he actually-really-truly trust (who? Oscar maybe? so obvious?), and when would he drop her off anyway? The entire journey's reason is for it to be a very spur-of-the-moment thing, so...

... Unless...

(that's Cooper "The Sailing Cat", check him out)

I mean?? It works???

At this point, I was totally in a "you had my curiosity, now you have my attention" mood, and started collecting some refs etc.

And it was then that I discovered that the cat that Andy captures in the warehouse is actually the same cat, Garbage, that Dwight tried to give to Angela as a present, but she refused. Which is actually Bandit, the kitty that Angela throws at ""Oscar"" on the ceiling during the Fire Drill episode, the puss on the roof if you will. Speaking of 9 lives.

Needless to say, this canon pretty much ruins my entire well-concocted (?) plan. I think I will still do something will all this brain-garbage I produced, but now I'm too fussy about it.

[titan-fodder]

For Keeps

Pairing: Vampire!Reiner x human!reader

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

wc: ~7.3K

Warnings: modern day but add vampires, Reiner's angsty self-reflection, Reiner-typical brooding, prostitution (but with blood, not sex), confessions, explicit sexual content, biting, messy sex, and blood blood blood. 

A/N: very inspired by this song. alternate titles: battling banjos, there will be blood, and ping-pong match of logic. Special thanks to @lady-lauren​ (who kept renaming my doc) @whats-her-quirk​ and @mindninjax​ for beta reading and urging me to finish this. It is embarrassingly fucking soft and not at all spooky, but that's just how I write Rei. It's also a little more flowery than my normal stuff I think, so hopefully that's a good thing. Enjoy~

One bite is all it took. One instance of teeth piercing flesh and blood pooling on his tongue rendered Reiner completely helpless, nothing more than a slave to his selfish desires. 

 He's drunk from humans before, sucked a couple dry in his earliest days, but this is different. You are different. That first evening when you'd led him up to your room in the blood brothel, fingers dancing by your side in nervous anticipation, you had told him about yourself, the basics—name, small family facts, why you do what you do. It was smart, a subtle reminder that you were more than simple sustenance. You were a person with a life, someone who would be missed. 

 It had made Reiner wonder what kind of monsters you'd been faced with before, or were you just smart enough to realize that you're nothing but a meal to most of his kind? 

 Whatever the case, he had taken the details to heart, watching closely as you got comfortable in the rocking chair set up in the corner of the room, and he eventually came to kneel on the floor beside you. You extended your arm, clenching and unclenching your fist a couple times as you took a few deep breaths, and when you nodded and Reiner lowered his mouth to soft skin, he thought of your mother and father, the yappy dog they have, and how college is too expensive to afford on server wages.

 However, the reminders of your humanity were lost temporarily, your blood the sweetest he’d ever tasted, filling his head with a thick fog and weighing his body down. 

 Even today, he can still remember the way you had hissed—not when he had initially bitten, but when his grip had tightened, when he’d sunk from his knees further down, one leg bent awkwardly to the side while the other remained tucked underneath him. The sensation of his ankle digging into the hardwood floor was lost on him, only one thought present as his fingers tightened at your bicep and wrist.

 You didn’t fight him, didn’t try to push him away. Instead you reached over to place your free hand on the crown of his head, a grounding weight that brought Reiner back to semi-consciousness, just enough to hear you when you requested, “Not so hard,” and after some time, “‘m getting light-headed.”

 Reiner had no idea how long he'd been at it, but when he broke away and blinked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, he found you with a small smile on your face.

 “Thank you,” you’d murmured.

 Your arm still in his hands, Reiner stared at you in awe because why… why on Earth should you be thanking him? You were the one who took the risk, who offered yourself to him knowing the potential consequences. You gifted him with nourishment—with life—not the way his mother or his sire did, but honestly, the life you’ve given him might be better because it doesn’t feel entirely like damnation. Reiner’s existence may have been a scourge on the rest of the world, but you… You were his deliverance. 

 You are his deliverance. 

 One bite. 

 He needs you to know that. Since he met you those several months ago, he’s been doing his best, trying his absolute hardest not to be the monster everyone believes him to be. He hasn’t killed, hasn’t even hurt anyone in the time he’s known you. 

 Part of that has to do with the fact that his hunger is significantly more controlled these days. He doesn’t thirst for every human he passes anymore. 

 It’s only you now. 

 Your veins are the only ones he cares about, and though he craves you near constantly, tonight as he makes his way to the brothel, it isn't your blood he longs for, but flesh—the sensation of skin on skin, of bodies pressed together head to toe rather than mouth to vein. Tonight, Reiner prefers to be buried, not drowned. 

 The older woman who runs the front desk—cracked and always covered in papers—nods at Reiner when he enters and answers his question before he can ask it. 

 “She just got finished with a client. You may want to wait or see someone else tonight.”

 His hand forms a fist in his jacket pocket at the thought of anyone else drinking from you, but there isn’t anything he can do about it, so he presses on, admitting to the keeper, “I’m actually not here for that.”

 She lifts an eyebrow over her gaudy glasses then motions for him to continue. “I just wanted to talk.”

 The woman clicks her tongue, reaching for a magazine and flipping it open while leaning back in her rickety chair. 

 “Tell you what, kid—” He doesn’t bother telling her he’s been on this godforsaken planet for nearly two centuries. “—go out and grab her some food, and you can talk however long you want.” 

 There’s no reason to argue. He’d rather you be at your full potential while having the conversation Reiner has in mind, and besides, it’s not like he hasn’t brought you food before, not like he hasn’t taken you out on many occasions. On nights that he drank just a little too much the two of you would wind up at the little diner a couple blocks down. It’s how he’s learned so much about you, asking questions as you tear into a hamburger then listening closely when you're able to answer. 

 You’re witty and open-minded, empathetic to a fault and always so unguarded, like… Like you trust him. 

 You’ve asked your own questions—what it’s like to have lived as long as he has, what the transformation process was like, how he developed such strong self-control.

 Reiner had laughed at that one, still a little blissed out from his own previous meal while you ate yours. “What are you talking about?” Him? Having any semblance of self-control? That must be a joke. You’d seen the way he heaved and spluttered around your arm just earlier that evening, like a little kid who shoved too many cookies in his mouth and started coughing up crumbs. There’s nothing controlled about that.

 “You haven’t killed me. You’re able to listen when I tell you to stop.”

 He’d smirked at you then, a lazy expression of satisfaction as he told you matter-of-factly, “If I killed you, I’d never be able to come back for more.”

 Reiner wants to come back for more. Over and over until the end of his days, but the longer this goes on and the more these ideas plague his mind, the more he realizes that this has almost nothing to do with your blood and all to do with your brain, your heart. He wants to consume you, yes, wants you to be the last thing he ever tastes, but his obsession isn’t the kind that ends in your body being found; it’s the kind that ends with rumpled sheets and the rhythm of your heart beating against his chest.

 He hopes, anyway. He hopes you receive him well tonight, but if you don’t he’s already made his mind up. He can’t keep seeing you without possessing you the way you possess him. It’s no longer an option. So, if you hear what he has to say tonight and decide to turn him away, then this will be the last time. He’ll fade into the ether of the city, never to be seen by you again, and do everything in his power to forget how it feels to press his lips to the warm skin of your forearm, the sensation of you petting his hair and calling his name. 

 Reiner, that’s enough… Reiner, you need to stop… Reiner...

 “Reiner.”

 He blinks at you, standing outside of your room with a paper bag clutched in his hand. He can hardly even recall going into the diner and ordering food, the walk back to the brothel and up the stairs just as blurry, but you, here in front of him, are clear as day (what he remembers of day, anyway). 

 “Did you bring me food?” You ask almost teasingly as you bat your eyelashes and grin. 

 “Yeah, Cindy downstairs—”

 “Sadie,” you remind him, taking the bag from him and moving to let him inside. “Honestly, with how many times you visit, it’s a wonder you can’t ever get her name right…”

 “She’s not who I come to see.”

 You shrug, “Fair,” and set your food down on the small coffee table, immediately digging until you find the fries stashed away. “You’re gonna have to give me a little while before you can—”

 “I didn’t come to eat,” Reiner cuts you off, and you give him a look similar to the one Sadie gave him downstairs. 

 “No?”

 He shakes his head. “Just want to hang out.” Reiner swallows, eyes darting away from your face when he adds, “To talk.”

 Sitting in the rocking chair you love so much, you hum, taking a few more bites while regarding Reiner where he stands. “You look considerably more serious than usual.”

 He can’t help but grin even as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, just eat. You’re weak right now.”

 “Could probably still take you in a fight,” you joke even while your hands shake around your sandwich. 

 Reiner makes himself comfortable on the very edge of your bed, hunched forward with his hands clasped between his legs. He tries not to watch you eat, but it’s hard not to, especially when you sigh around every bite like it’s a gift from the heavens. He can relate, but he doubts he’s ever looked as cute as you currently do—tiny piece of deli meat at the corner of your mouth, eyes shut as you wriggle your shoulders the way you always do when you get food. 

 It’s so undeniably human, and it has Reiner by the heartstrings because the reason he’s here tonight, what he wants to ask you… It could take that away. It could take all of this away. 

 He fiddles with his phone for a few minutes but only until you ask how his day has been, and he responds the way he usually does: “Just starting, really. Got up a few hours ago, tidied up some, and now I’m here.”

 “You’re off tonight, I assume?” You press. 

 “Yeah—well, no. Kind of.” Your eyebrows raise, and Reiner runs his hand through his hair. “I was supposed to work, but Bertl asked if he could take my shift for extra cash, and I had better things to do anyway, so…”

 “Worked out then.”

 “It did, I guess.”

 “These better things wouldn’t happen to do with little ol’ me, would they?” 

 There’s something about your gaze, a certain twinkle that Reiner doesn’t often see. He can’t tell if it’s curiosity or amusement, and at this very moment, he isn’t sure he wants to know. 

 He also isn’t sure how long he can stand you looking at him like this, so Reiner motions to your sandwich as if to remind you it’s there and demands, “Eat,” to which you chuckle and pop another fry into your mouth.

 The color in your lips is already coming back, not as pale as they were when he had first walked in, and your hands have stopped shaking. He can almost forget that someone—something—else had been feeding off you before he got here. Almost. 

 Reiner asks how classes are going to distract himself, then if you were able to see your parents over the weekend, if their dog is housebroken yet or if your mother is still coming home to accidents. You complain about stats but lighten up when you speak of your family and their terror of a pomeranian. 

 But, soon you are out of food, and Reiner is out of questions, leaving you to throw the trash away then pad into your tiny bathroom. You’re adamant about brushing your teeth after mealtimes, a habit you share with Reiner, only while you’re brushing to avoid cavities, he’s simply trying to wash away blood. When you reappear, you plop back into your chair, pulling a knee up to your chest while using your other foot to gently push yourself back and forth. 

 “So…” You prompt, eyes fixed on him, already chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

 “So,” Reiner mimics, and he suddenly hates himself for setting this up as some sort of discussion, leaving no more room for chit-chat, no way to talk about his feelings in an organic way. It’s all going to be forced, an awkward confession of him babbling and backtracking and trying to keep you from running away from him. Why did he do this to himself? Why—

 It’s like you know when you look away, focusing instead on the ends of your hair, brushing your finger over them and giving Reiner the space he needs to think. Your chair creates a steady creak in the floorboards, the sound keeping his mind from wandering too far, from spinning out of control, and the noise paired with the sight of you, completely open to him yet with seemingly no expectations, it makes it easier, easier to form a coherent thought even if that thought is one that’s never quite solidified itself in his head before, a thought that’s only three words. 

 “I love you.”

 Your head lifts, eyes wider than before but not alarmed. Receptive, maybe a little confused. 

 “Reiner,” you start, dropping the strands held between your fingers as your brows finally knit together. “I don’t think—”

 “I do, though. And, I know—I know you think it’s just the blood, that I’m confusing one thing for something else, but I’m not. It’s not like that.”

 You squint at him, questions dancing just behind your growing pupils, but you don’t look accusatory. In fact, your mouth begins to lift at the corners. Reiner can tell you’re skeptical (as you should be), but you don’t look like you’re about to scream at him, so that’s one less thing to worry about.

 “How do you know that’s not what it is?” You ask, not giving him time before you add, “We’ve been seeing each other for months now. You’ve been drinking from me for months. I’m sure that has the potential to… cross some wires.”

 “My wires aren’t crossed,” he sighs, leg beginning to bounce with his mounting anxiety. “I—don’t get me wrong, I love the way you taste. I want you all the time—it’s just… changing. It has changed. The way I want you, I mean.” 

 He can smell the blood that rises to your cheeks, nearly hears it pooling in your face, and it makes his mouth water, but there are so many things he’d rather do than sink his teeth into you and suck, so many other ways he’d prefer to consume you. 

 “How can you tell?” 

 “Because…” Reiner runs his tongue over the point of his right fang, enjoying the pinprick of pain that comes with the motion. “Because I’d rather have you than… have you.” All of this sounded much better on his walk over here, smoother, clearer. 

 It doesn’t seem to bother you, though, because that tiny smirk you’re wearing grows into something wider, if only by a little bit. You rest your chin on your knee, and your gaze is so, so soft that it feels like Reiner’s chest caves in when you murmur, “Reiner, you’ve had me from the start.”

 "Wait." He tilts his head to the side as if it'll help him make sense of what you've just said. "As in—"

 "Surprised you haven't noticed, actually," you muse, slowing your back and forth motion until you come to a stop. "Sometimes when you're around, I'm scared I'm gonna have a heart attack or something, it starts beating so fast."

 He’s noticed. He just assumed it was panic, that you were always afraid that it could be your last night alive. 

 "Didn't think you could ever feel the same—anywhere close to the same, really," you muse. 

 "Didn't think I could or that I would?" He questions because that's something he needs clarification on. Do you believe creatures like him even have the capacity to love? Because he does—he absolutely does, and if you’d let him show you, if you would open yourself up to him just a little bit more, Reiner could convince you just how much—

 “Both, I guess,” you shrug, and the dead organ in his chest plummets to his stomach. “But, it’s not a reflection on you, it’s me. Like… why?” Your hands twitch where they’re clasped around your knee, like you’re fighting the urge to throw them out in incredulity. 

 “What do you mean ‘why’?”

 “I mean,” you drawl, dropping your leg and leaning forward. “You’ve been around for, what, like, two hundred years?”

 “Hundred and ninety,” Reiner mutters, and he tries not to snort when you roll your eyes. 

 “Right. So, you’ve been around for one hundred and ninety years, watched and participated in literal wars, are fluent in god knows how many languages—” It’s only seven, could be eight but Arabic just escapes him… “Have been married before—”

 “Yeah, in the eighteen hundreds! Look, forget about all that—”

 “Okay, then we can talk about you in this day and age. You’re a bouncer at one of the most high-end clubs in the city, could get anyone you wanted, but you’re carrying a torch for me? That doesn’t make sense. I’m—” You let out a little laugh and motion to your surroundings, the ratty curtains and warped floors before you continue in a quieter voice, your tone darker—bitter. “I’m just a college girl paying for school by whoring myself out. All I’ve got going for me is exceptionally tasty blood or some shit.”

 Groaning, Reiner scrubs his hands down his face, chastising, “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” while scratching at the bit of stubble on his cheeks and chin. You don’t respond with anything other than a sigh, and Reiner tries to come up with proof of his feelings and even more importantly, proof of your worth, what you mean to him. You’re so much more than a desperate student, so much more than a girl willing to bare her neck for extra cash, just one more thing he’ll have to convince you of.

 The problem here is that there is an obvious disconnect between Reiner’s brain and his mouth. Despite wishing to find all the perfect words, unscramble all the poetry in his head, all he manages is to blurt, “I want to change you.”

 You straighten in your chair, eyebrows knitting even further together.

 “Like… Change, like…”

 “Make you like me,” he breathes. Reiner can feel how wide his eyes are, unblinking as they remain fixed on you. He sees your pulse in the side of your neck, hears your heart pick up in tempo, driving blood through every artery, vein, and capillary with dangerous force, and he can’t keep his nostrils from flaring. 

 Too perceptive for your own good, you zero in on the way Reiner breathes in a little too deeply, how his jaw relaxes, almost going slack as his mouth begins to water.

 “Change me and you’ll never get to feed on me again.”

 “I know,” he nods. “I’ll live.”

 Neither of you speak for several seconds, but the slow creak of the rocking chair picks up once again, filling the silence as you teeter back and forth, back and forth, back and—

 “That’s a lot to ask of someone,” you tell him.

 He almost scoffs. You think he hasn’t already thought of that? Like he hasn’t laid awake in the middle of the god damn day imagining all the awful things you could say to him in response to this.

 “It is, and you don’t—I mean, I’m not actually asking you to do that right now. I’m just trying to tell you—show you—that I’d rather be with you than have you as a fucking meal.”

 “And, what happens in a couple decades when you get bored of me? I’m sure there are plenty of little lost girls out there with blood just as sweet as mine.” Your tone is still sour, but you take on a goading expression, one arched brow and that damn smirk. 

 “Yeah, I don’t see myself getting bored with you,” he states. “But, take time to actually think it over, and if it’s not something you want—which, you know, understandable—” It’s literally damning yourself to eternity, watching loved ones die, experiencing the feeling of your humanity slowly slip away, and it’s such a selfish thing to request, but… there are still moments when it all comes rushing back, even if just for a little while.

 And, that’s what you are to him. You remind him that he isn’t just passing through this lonesome world without purpose. There is still good to be found and love to be—

 “I…” You begin only to stop and gnaw on your lower lip. “Will give it some thought, and in the meantime…”

 Reiner straightens as you push yourself out of the chair, taking calculated steps and watching his reaction closely. 

 “You know that turning me isn’t the only way you can have me, right?”

 His own swallow echoes in his ears, and he cranes his neck as you come to a stop directly in front of him, right between his legs. 

 “And, that there are other ways to taste me.”

 Reiner just breathes for a few seconds, getting stoned off your scent—both blood and perfume, and fuck, he could drown in you. He could lose himself completely, let the waves of lust wash his body away, but before he can let that happen, he wants you. 

  Your heart is racing, and Reiner can hear it like a pounding in his eardrums, growing louder as he pulls you into his lap, one hand immediately moving to the back of your head to guide you to him. 

 Lips are softer than the skin he’s used to feeling—your wrist, the crease of your elbow. They’re plush and actually move with and against his own mouth, insistent and hungry and parting so perfectly when he swipes his tongue across. 

 Back arching, you press yourself against Reiner, and that thump thump thump is ricocheting in his ribcage—fuck, how long has it been since he’s actually felt a beat in his chest? Even if it isn’t his own heart, that echo is still so familiar, makes him feel more alive than he has in decades, centuries. 

 A surprise shove leaves Reiner landing on his back in the midst of your blankets, a soft grunt pushed from his throat that makes you smile into the kiss. He can feel your body heating up, blood warming your neck and chest, and the scent of arousal makes him dizzy as he grips your hips, holding you tightly as he grinds into you.

 “Mmfuck, Reiner—”

 He likes the way his name sounds in your mouth, especially when your voice grows shaky and desperate.

 “'I've wanted you for so long now,” you pant, placing sweet little pecks to his lips before moving to his jaw, your nails scratching at the back of his neck as you do. 

 “Should have—should’ve said something,” he grits out, still rolling beneath you, begging for friction even through the confines of clothes. 

 "Not brave enough,” you tell him. 

 Reiner has to chuckle at that, fingers trailing up your spine then to your face so that he can make you look at him. Your eyes are wide, pupils blown, lower lip tugged between your teeth when you gaze at him. 

 “Brave enough to let me feed off you but not enough to confess?” You shake your head in response. “You realize one is infinitely more dangerous than the other, right?”

 A nod this time, and you follow up with a murmured, “Rather go to the hospital for blood loss than have to deal with—...”

 “With what?”

 Your eyes flick away, and Reiner waits and wonders until you finish, “Potential heartbreak. Physical wounds heal faster.”

 Both hands are on your cheeks before he realizes, and Reiner is surer than he’s ever been when he tells you, “I will never break your heart.”

 Your little scoff makes him frown, but despite your disbelief, you still concede, “Guess I’ll have to trust you on that one.”

 He kisses you again, deep and longing, trying so hard to communicate that hurting you is the last thing he wants to do, that he will cherish you for as long as he possibly can, until he gets trapped in the sun or meets the end of a stake. He is yours—body, mind, and soul—and he’ll spend the rest of forever proving it to you. 

 It’s difficult not to whine when you pull away and sit up, but it’s even harder not to groan when you grip the hem of your shirt and slowly pull it up and off. You’re hot to the touch, and Reiner has to—he has to—get closer, has to press his nose to your neck and breathe because you’re so sweet and heady, the most intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced.

 You let out a little giggle and a gasp of, “I’m ticklish, Rei,” but all it does is prompt him to nibble at the flesh just above your shoulder. He laves over the patch, sucking without ever piercing through, and once he’s had enough he moves back to your face.

 Nimble fingers work at the buttons of his shirt until you’re able to push it from him, and the two of you part just long enough for Reiner to pull his undershirt off. Your bra is tossed behind you, and then his hands are on you once again, cupping your breasts, kneading and pinching so that you mewl and tremble over him. 

 He can’t do this for much longer. As much as Reiner loves this, he needs to feel you, needs to be inside you, needs to experience this new flavor of you. 

 In a fluid motion, he has you on your back, working your bottoms off, kissing down your body the entire time, unable to catch the lustful growl that rumbles from his chest when he makes it between your legs. 

 He doesn’t need to touch you to know that you’re wet for him, your desire wafting straight into his god damned brain, but more than that is the iron that makes his vision blur, makes his mouth water. Your thighs on either side of him, his fingers gripping both, he can feel the pulse of arteries beneath his thumbs, rushing blood so thick and rich that he has to distract himself before he loses it. 

 Thankfully, your pussy is so pretty, so slick against his tongue, and the sounds you make—fuck, the sounds—have him reeling. Little moans, praises and pleading, “Reiner, oh god, please…”

 Your fingers card through his hair before tightening in it, forcing him just a little higher until his lips bump your clit, and as soon as he sucks the swelling bud into his mouth, he can feel your pulse on his tongue. 

 Reiner groans, pressing his hips to the edge of the mattress. His nails dig into your thighs too harshly, but he can’t help it. You’re so beautiful and teeming with life. You’re covered in goosebumps, every tiny hair on your body rising from your skin, and your breaths are coming so fast and so short. Warm and wet and alive—alive underneath him, and Reiner knows he’s a monster for wanting to take that away, but he wants to so badly, needs you by his side for longer than a few decades.

 Besides, you’ll still be you even if your heart isn’t beating. You’ll still smell like you do now, just not as strong. Blood won’t be pumping, but it’ll remain there, still undeniably yours. Your eyes will keep shining with vitality, and your smile will keep dazzling him even when decorated with pointed fangs. 

 You must feel how tense he is. He’s trying his best to relax, but that metallic tang is already so deep in his nose, it’s all he can think about, and while Reiner busies his mouth with your leaking cunt, all he can think of is devouring you entirely. 

 Petting his hair, you call down to him, voice breathy and barely there— “Reiner, just—just do it, baby, I know you want to, can tell you’re hungry.”

 He shakes his head, and the motion makes you whimper. “No, don’t wanna make a mess. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

 “Never hurts for long, and besides… I’ve always kinda liked a little pain with my pleasure.”

 Reiner glances up from between your legs, tongue still tracing circles around your entrance, dipping inside every so often. Your eyebrows are high, mouth naturally falling into that cute little ‘o’. 

 You’re hard to deny—impossible—and Reiner knows he should move back up your body, should drink from your arm or your neck, avoid the carotid so you don’t bleed out, but he’s already down here, and your thighs are basically wrapped around his head as he teases you, the steady pump and thrum rushing in his ears, and he can’t even give you any warning before swearing and turning to sink his teeth into you. 

 You squeal as fangs stab into the fat of your leg, but Reiner barely hears it, barely hears anything as you fill his mouth—salty skin and honeyed blood. His eyes roll and his cock pulses painfully, but his own arousal isn't something he can be truly bothered with at this point. 

 There’s shaking beneath him, your body quivering as Reiner drinks from you, and he looks up with glazed over eyes to find your jaw set, brow furrowed. Pain. You’re in pain. 

 He can’t stop, though—no fucking way, not now, not when you’re bleeding so prettily, not when you’re gushing into his mouth and dripping down his chin. So, Reiner does the only thing he can think of to alleviate some of the discomfort, toys with your clit, slipping a finger inside of you, and there it is, that sing-song moan, the purest of melodies that could rival that of heaven’s angels. 

 He’s drowning in you just like he always does, mouthfuls too big to swallow making him splutter and paint your thighs and pelvis in speckled red. Still, you don’t seem to mind as his fingers pump in and out of your pussy, so eager to take him every time as you clench and flutter. 

 At least half of Reiner’s face is stained crimson, he knows, smeared down his neck and chest, soaking into the sheets, but he just keeps drinking. You bleed straight into his mouth, and he moans, and he growls, and if he could fucking cry he would. 

 You’re so good in so many ways, and Reiner struggles between wanting to possess you entirely and set you free. They sound like opposite ends of the same spectrum, but when it comes to immortality, so many lines are blurred. What’s the true difference between damnation and salvation in the grand scheme of things, Reiner wonders, because it all comes down to eternal life, and that accompanies both sentences. Just like the composition of ancient curses and bible verses, heaven and hell are eerily similar.

 No matter what happens, where he ends up, Reiner thinks he’ll be fine as long as he’s with you. He can endure timelessness in the depths of fire and brimstone if he can hold your hand through the flames. 

 He vaguely registers the way your legs begin shaking, how your muscles tense and strain, toes curling, hands flexing, and then— “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

 Your cunt pulses in time with the waves of your orgasm, hips undulating, making Reiner’s teeth tear a little deeper into your thigh. He’s soaking in you in more ways than one, hand dripping gossamer, face bathed in blood, and he needs to stop, need to find something to tie your leg with, slow it down and let you rest, but he’s a creature possessed, critical thinking skills dismal at best as he gorges himself on you.

 It isn’t until your twitching stops and your breathing slows that Reiner comes out of it, eyes flicking up to find yours closed, lips pale, and that’s all it takes.

 “Fuck, fuck,” he spits, looming over you in an instant, gently patting your cheek and begging, “Baby, baby look at me, open your eyes, fuck.”

 And, when you do, he nearly collapses in relief. 

 “‘M’fine. Dizzy.”

 “Yeah, I—fuck, I’m sorry, that was too much, that was—here, let me wrap your leg.”

 He doesn’t even think before retrieving his shirt and ripping it down the middle, folding clumsily before sliding it under your leg and encircling the wound. It isn’t huge, but it’s still bleeding at an alarming pace. Reiner had to have at least nicked your femoral artery, and if it doesn’t slow down soon, you’ll end up in the emergency room. 

 You wince when he cinches the material tight, tucking the ends in then applying pressure with his palm.

 The bedding looks like it belongs in an evidence box, just like Reiner looks like he belongs behind bars, yet you just keep smiling up at him, expression soft, a little dreamy, then surprisingly mischievous when you speak, “Sir, you haven’t gotten yours yet.”

 “Are you joking right now?” He coughs, laughing incredulously when you shake your head. “I almost sucked you dry, and you’re worried about my orgasm?”

 “Yesiree, I am,” you drawl with a sideways grin. 

 “You’re barely even lucid right now, okay, I’m not—”

 You sit up quickly enough to startle him, but you sway slightly, blink a few times, then look Reiner dead in the eyes and tell him, “I want you to fuck me.” 

 He gulps.

 “I’ve wanted you to fuck me almost since day one, so please—please just—”

 “Okay,” he nods, guiding you to lie back again, nearly kissing you before remembering that he’s covered in your blood. “Nothing rough, though. You have to let me be gentle with you.”

 “That’s fine, that’s fine.”

 Reiner stands, intent on slipping into the bathroom to wash his face, but you catch him by the wrist. “I don’t care about the mess. I just want you.”

 He’s out of his pants in record speed, curling over you and lining his cock up with your entrance. Fuck, he’s been so hard for so long, mind elsewhere until now, and he can feel the ache in his balls, how tender his tip is, and when he pushes into you, he ascends to a higher plane. 

 Your arms are around him, nails cutting into his back, head tucked into his neck, and Reiner doesn’t think it’s possible to get any closer to you than he is now, bodies melding as he moves inside of you. Everything is wet from the waist down, blood coating Reiner’s hips and thighs. He’s careful not to jostle your injured leg too much, instead hiking the other one around his waist so that he can thrust deeper, hit that spot that makes you cry out. 

 “Fuck—yes—”

 Reiner cuts you off with a kiss, making a mess of your mouth with his own—blood and spit and slick—but all you do is whimper and fist a hand in his hair, licking his lips then nipping and biting and tugging until he has a loose hand around your throat and his tongue is pressing behind your teeth. 

 His thrusts remain slow but deep, stroking your insides, velveteen walls clinging to him every time he pulls back. The fingers at your neck trail down your chest and stomach until they dip into your folds, and the noise you make when Reiner rubs your clit is one he wants to remember forever, overwhelmed and wanton as you try to spread your legs further. 

 He teases for a moment, tracing shapes and letters before finally settling on one pattern, the right one judging by the way you squeeze his cock. 

 Slapping and squelching, sighing and squealing, you move together like you were meant to, one fluid being tethered at the hips as well as the heart. No matter how good you taste, how sweet you smell, this is what Reiner wants forever. It's this connection that he craves. 

 He can feel that pressure building, balls tightening, cock pulsing until Reiner's head falls forward and he bites into your neck on instinct. 

 You sob, but it doesn't sound pained, your back arching as you reach your peak again, and Reiner doesn't think he's ever experienced this kind of euphoria—orgasm crashing into him as your blood fills his mouth once again, your perfect cunt clenching around him, taking everything he gives you so well. 

 Bliss washes over both of you even as his thrusts stutter to a stop, and Reiner watches you pant underneath him, brushing hair from your face. You look as wrecked as he feels, delirious and painted red, but you still smile and pull him in for another iron-laced kiss. 

 "If it's gonna be like that every time, I'm definitely not letting you change me for a while," you mutter into him. 

 Reiner hums, moving to nose at your ear as he asks, "Why's that," before lapping at what's still dribbling from your neck. 

 "Honestly? The whole uncontrollable blood-lust is a little hot." Reiner snorts and shakes his head. "And, like I said before. I don't mind a little pain."

 One more kiss and Reiner pushes himself off you. "You're a little morbid, you know that?" 

 You sit up, stretching your legs out, barely flinching when Reiner checks your makeshift bandage. 

 "I mean, I feel like it'd be weird if I wasn't at least a little morbid considering I have a vampire boyfriend now."

 If he were capable of blushing, Reiner would be right now, but all he can really do is try to hide a bashful grin. 

 The flow from your leg has slowed, but it's still something he'd like to keep an eye on. However, it'll be much easier to do once you're cleaned up, so Reiner scoops you off the bed with little warning, walking to the small bathroom and setting you in the tub before running warm water. 

 He slides in behind you, more than a little cramped as the ceramic digs into his hips and ankles, but it's easy to ignore when you lean against him, allowing Reiner to scrub the rust-like substance from your skin. It's all over your legs as well as your chest now, streaming down from your throat. 

 The water quickly takes on a dark red tint, something you giggle at as you muse, "I don't think we're actually getting all that clean anymore."

 Which is why you drain the tub and turn on the shower afterward, Reiner making you hold him for support so that you can balance without putting too much weight on your leg. 

 Bodies rinse clean and water runs cold, and only then do the two of you step out. You dry off and change into pajamas as Reiner pulls on his boxers, and then he insists on wrapping your thigh up again. 

 Ruined sheets are replaced and thrown into a corner, the mattress pad stained through, but, "Not much we can do about that," you say with a shrug when Reiner apologizes. 

 It's late now, and Reiner can tell that you're absolutely exhausted. You know he sleeps during the day, yet you still pull him into bed with you, forcing him to lay so that you can rest your head on his chest. 

 For a while, you're both quiet, the only noise in the room is your breathing and the fan spinning above. Then—

 "It's weird not hearing a heartbeat," you tell him quietly. 

 "Yeah, I guess that is a little strange to you."

 You don't respond, but you do begin to tap a rhythm over his sternum, the tip of your finger mimicking your own pulse, and it's almost enough to lull him into a meditative state, calming but… sad. Another reminder of what he's asking you to give up. 

 "Would you miss it?" He asks curiously. "If you end up letting me turn you—do you think you'll miss it?" 

 "Miss what? This life?" 

 "Your heart."

 He can feel your mouth curve into a smile, and the arm thrown over his torso tightens fondly. 

 "Reiner, I gave up my heart the night I met you. And, I mean that in the best way possible. You've had it this whole time."

 With a chuckle, he can't help but tease, "You sound like a poet."

 "Not a good one," you laugh. 

 "Way back when I was human, I would write some every now and again," he starts anecdotally, "And let me tell you, your sappy confessions are much better than anything I ever came up with."

 "You wrote poetry?" You sound very surprised. 

 Reiner nods. "If you could even call it that."

 "So, you've always been a romantic, huh?" 

 "Suppose you could say that, yeah. I just… yearned for things I didn't have, I think. For experiences and people and feelings."

 "Mm, I get that. Do you feel like you've gotten those things after almost two-hundred years?" 

 "For the most part."

 There will always be places to go, people to meet, but what Reiner has always wanted is that all-consuming, gut-wrenching passion for someone, and now he's got it, weighing down his chest and tracing patterns on his ribs. You're here, and you're real, and there's a good chance he'll be able to keep you forever. 

 There are things he'll always miss about being human—warm rays of sunlight on his skin, the way cooked meat tasted after a day of labor, the thrill and adrenaline that always accompanied danger. He doesn't get any of that these days. 

 But, if it weren't for giving all of that up, for damning himself and taking on this other life, he never would have met you, would have died long ago. Before he stumbled into this brothel, weeks and months would go by where all Reiner wanted was to meet that final darkness, throw himself into daylight or onto the tip of a wooden stake.

 Then, he found you, and he saw the other side of that pitch-black room, light shining and beckoning him. That perpetual loneliness ebbed away as you quickly wrapped yourself around the dead organ in his chest, and sometimes when you smile at him or say his name, Reiner thinks he feels it start to beat again, the faintest little rhythm.

 Eventually you fall asleep, eyes fluttering until your breathing evens out. Reiner's gaze is focused on the towel around your leg, stained from when he initially tied it, but it doesn't look to be soaking through anymore, the red spot staying the same size. 

 Still, Reiner watches. He watches, and he thinks. This could be one of the last times you sleep at night instead of during the day. This could be the last time he drinks from you. This could be the beginning of the end for you, the first goodbyes to your mortal life. 

 He should feel bad. He should feel guilty. But, he can't. Not right now. Not when he's nearly bursting with warmth and love and light. 

 Eternity isn't long enough when it comes to being with you, but it's definitely a start. 

[blaydiud]

𝒌𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆 - valkyrie mastery drabble

“But why is it that there are so few of them in Faerghus? Isn’t the Sorcery School good?”

“It very much is, Your Highness. However, The problem does not lie in the mages themselves, but in the horses.”

Horses weren’t the problem. They were never the problem.

Those words stayed in his mind for years to come ever since he talked to that reason scholar. In one of his many failed lessons, he had asked the man why mounted mages were so difficult to come by in the Kingdom, even though cavalry had always been one of Faerghus’ primary strengths military wise. The army was composed of traditional cavalry, traditional infantry, and traditional mages with a few squadrons specialized in some technique mixes, but almost none were mounted mages. Why?

Why did he blame it on the horse of all things? What if the mage riding that horse was just a bad rider overall?

It was what he thought until Dimitri was comfortably sitting on Duke’s saddle, tome on hand, ready for a test. He knew it would be a disaster already- as much as Dimitri had technically ‘mastered’ that tome’s spells his attempts were still awful, hence why instead of the powerful Thoron or Fimbulvetr, he held onto a basic Thunder tome. Duke seemed at peace, ears swiveling around as the horse stood idle.

The prince barely finished casting a wonky little spark, and Duke seemed to be holding onto every fiber of his being to not break into a run or Dimitri off his back. “O- sorry, sorry, sorry! My apologies, Duke!” The tome was quickly forgotten, much like the dingy spell, as the prince changed his mind and spent the next minutes comforting his spooked horse.

It’s not his fault. He repeated to himself. It’s not his fault.

I’m the one who’s an awful mage. And the only times he had been exposed to magic, he was on the receiving end of the attack…

It was just so simple, or at least it felt like it. Duke would never allow him to cast a spell on his back, the horse had been trained to avoid mages like the plague much like every other faerghan equine. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t do it again, okay? Sorry.” He reassured the stallion who slowly calmed down. Dimitri stayed true to his word- he wouldn’t try casting around Duke. He wouldn’t try around Grimbelle either, as the memories of being struck by Bolganone were still far too fresh both in his and the mare’s minds.

What’s left was…Klaske! 

A mare that had been gifted to him with a different purpose. Duke was a great all-rounder, Grimbelle was a speedy flier, and Klaske simply did not care about magic. The letter was worded very nicely, but if he were to translate it, it was basically the court acknowledging his skills with magic so bad that he could stand as a potential threat and that he needed at least one horse that wouldn’t attempt to run away or buck him off. Enter: Klaske.

Chestnut, sweet, at peace with the world. 

Uncomfortably similar to a horse he met only for a couple minutes back at the Projectionist’s fantasy world, where his weapons were taken from him save for a staff that could cast Luna and a small banjo. The first time he met her, he deemed it just a funny coincidence, but…now he wasn’t too sure anymore.

“Hey, girl.” He brushed her mane off her face, giving her a nice ol’ scratch. “How are you doing today?” The mare didn’t react much, but he assumed she was simply not that used to his presence yet. The prince was hesitant for a moment, his mind quickly going back to the one time with Duke. I’m not familiar with her yet. What if I scare her off and ruin our chances of forming a proper bond? Sure, he could still ride her- Dimitri had always been excellent with riding horses he had just met, but Klaske was…his now. His companion and partner for battles. It would feel wrong to not be friends with her.

As the mare lazily munched on grass, Dimitri sighed. He lifted one hand, and with much effort began casting the beginnings of a basic Thunder spell- eyes trailed on the horse for any signs of discomfort or nervousness. The spell developed nicely, until a stray spark flew off and-

Klaske reached for his arm instantly, biting his forearm and forcing him to stop the spell. The bite didn’t hurt- he was wearing gauntlets, but the unexpected movement left the prince frozen for a second. Within seconds, she let go and went back to her green patch of grass, leaving the prince to stand there and wonder.

What is…

He tried again. Again, it went well at first, and again just as the spell was starting to spiral out of control, Klaske reached for his arm and bit it.

They gave me a horse with an emergency magic brake-?!

He was absolutely dumbfounded at the mare- truly she was something else. Shifting from serene and uncaring to her surroundings to swift and ready to leap into action in literal seconds. But if she did that when he casted spells near her…then-

Then when he did it while riding her, she started running. But not with the intent to shake him off, no. It was the same run Duke did when it was time to advance against enemy frontlines. It was her granting him speed and enough movement to make a proper, effective offensive approach- which would’ve been great if the weapon on his hand wasn’t a badly-casted Thoron. The only saving grace was when Klaske noticed he was fumbling his spells, she turned her head around to try to bite at his leg.

Dimitri almost found it fascinating, almost. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he fumbled and messed up most if not nearly all of his castings, making him start to believe that Klaske either hated him by now or thought of him as the epitome of incompetent. Or both. It was impossible to tell however- she was always calm and gentle, aloof and receptive to affection.

And it was just like that, on a long afternoon after half a dozen of stray, badly-casted Thorons and Fimbulvetrs, that Dimitri managed to find his one drive to become a better mage.

If I become a good mounted mage, my horse won’t bite me-!

____

Word count: 1077

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 01/02/2024

Outertale

Season 6 Featured on: Transmission Archive ~ The SiIvaGunner All​-​Star Nuclear Winter Festival Collection

Ripped by Blookerstein

Unfortunately, I don't really have all too much time to write this post - but hey, that's in the spirit of the game its focused on, isn't it?

I'm a bit sad to say that I sort of missed the hype train on Outer Wilds, one of the most beloved indie games of the current day. I can't quite put my finger on why it didn't click for me, nor do I really care to find out - because that really isn't what this post, or what Outertale, is about. Because Outertale encapsulates so much genuine feeling to it, so much pure, unfiltered love, that it's enough to break someone who doesn't even have much attachment to Outer Wilds itself in two.

You could of course say that that's due to the other half of the rip - the Undertale leitmotif from the game of the same name, which is here arranged in that plucky, acoustic sound of the Outer Wilds' explorer tunes. That's certainly possible - I may not be Undertale's strongest soldier, but in no small part due thanks to SiIvaGunner itself, its music has wound up becoming something very nostalgic for me, and does evoke a lot of emotion no matter the context.

But no, what I believe makes Outertale work so well for me, and to thousands of others, is that sense of...community, it evokes. There are a lot of popular video games out there, and a lot of popular indie-made ones: Shovel Knight, Super Meat Boy, Cave Story, The Binding of Isaac, and of course Hollow Knight, a game Blookerstein ripped to excellent ability with The expanse of meme in past was split, A fiendish trap has now been set; Behind a tree the villains sit, Terror of sport, the Robbie's Net. Yet what I think binds Undertale and Outer Wilds together in my mind, is just how emotionally honest, open, and vulnerable they are, and how those feelings reflect back into its playerbase. In my mind, they're two of the only games I can think of that are enjoyed the world over with shockingly wide reach, yet manage to tell stories that feel ever-so-personal, like an emotional journey made just for you.

Blookerstein employs so many fun little quirks in the arranging here to make fun of all the various music-players to be found in Outer Wilds' vast galaxy, be it the whistling lead melody, the soothing banjo backing, the otherwise uncanny sound of the theremin carrying the song's scaled-back midpoint, before rejoining with the rest of the band, a rattling tambourine keeping pace all throughout, as harmonica plays the song out.

It's the purest essence of a campfire song, yet taken out from its original context within Outer Wilds...it feels as if the campers in question are us, the viewers, pouring our hearts out with each other as company. Uploaded on Christmas Eve in the middle of the Nuclear Winter Festival, an event already dealing with themes of loss, regret, and moving on to a brighter tomorrow, Outertale couldn't have come at a better time, and the emotional attachment I lacked from Outer Wilds has now been made up for a thousandfold with emotional attachment to the end of Season 6.

Though the SiIvaGunner AI may have bid us farewell, and its world left to an uncertain fate, the times we in the SiIva community had across those years are never going to be forgotten. With one world ended and a new one about to begin, we still remain.

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 23

Today is Contraband.

=============================================

They'd taken Henry's possessions when they'd captured him. It had been "contraband", the strange creatures had said. He'd also seen a record in the case where they'd been putting his trusty ax and the seeing tool. He hadn't been quite sure what that had been about until he'd been taken into the room with the cells and seen Sammy.

"Is the record in the case outside yours?" He'd asked once the creatures had left.

"It is not," Sammy replied.

"It's not mine, either," Alice's voice came from one of the upper levels.

"Alice?" Henry's eyes widened. Things must really be dire if Alice had been captured.

"Hello, errand boy," Alice purred. "I'm disappointed in you. I would have thought you'd be more difficult to catch."

"And what does it say about you that you were caught?" Sammy asked.

"You are not a part of this conversation," Alice snapped.

"I believe the sheep addressed me first," Sammy pointed out, equally snippy.

It took everything Henry had not to just groan. He probably should have expected this given the comments Alice had made during past loops. And it did make sense that Sammy wouldn't be fond of Alice given her antagonization of the Ink Demon.

"I did ask Sammy first," he finally said, once he'd managed to get himself together.

"See?" Sammy began, sounding incredibly smug.

"However!" Henry added, cutting Sammy off. "I do appreciate your contribution, Alice."

"You're very welcome, errand boy," Alice said, also sounding smug.

Henry could hear Sammy grumbling.

"Did they take anything from you when they brought you here?" Henry asked, hoping to change the subject. "They took my ax and another tool I had."

"They took my ink hearts and syringes of thick ink," Alice replied.

"They took only the weapons I possessed," Sammy said. The plucked notes of a banjo began to reverberate around their holding area.

"Oh for the love of- They let you keep your silly banjo?!" Alice yelled. There was the sound of something slamming against glass, likely Alice pounding on the glass of her cell.

"I told them I would not try to escape if they let me keep it." Sammy continued to pluck at his banjo.

"So you aren't even going to try and escape?" Alice sneered. "I should have known you would be nothing without your so-called Lord."

"Do not speak of my Lord, false angel!"

"Oh, I'll speak of him all I like!"

Henry tuned out the arguing, sitting down with his back to the wall as he thought about what had been taken. He could understand the removal of weapons or anything that could be used as a weapon. Their captors wouldn't want them to have the ability to fight back, after all. And the Seeing Tool could certainly be dangerous with the hidden messages it showed Henry. How his captors knew about the power of the Seeing Tool was another matter altogether. One he would have to consider at another time. But a record? Ink Hearts? What made those contraband?

And what were their captors planning on doing with them?

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Ner naak (My peace)

Pairing: Din Djarin x earthling!reader

Warnings: None

Summarize: Din Djarin meets you, an earthling, with no idea of the existence of an outer space.

Words count: 1102

A/n: Just a quick message to say I’m sorry about this translation, my translator was awful today so I had to correct a lot of stuff and complete a lot of stuff so I hope it is still fine to read! 

Enjoy your reading my friends!

Ner naak Masterlist. // The Mandalorian Masterlist. 

Working in silence was not part of your habits. So, to fill the silence in the cockpit, you played your playlist. The music filled the space with a soft melody as you started to hum a song. Acoustic songs were your absolutely favorites, they were relaxing and they created a kind of bubble in which you could focus. 

And for what you were doing, it required a lot of attention. 

You were handling the electrical circuits of the instrument panel. You had spotted some malfunctions and you suspected that an electrical overload might occur. You had to change some connectors, replace some wires and tighten some bolts on the panel before you could test your electrical connections. 

Your toolbox was open on the pilot's seat, you picked up the wires one by one and connected them with a pair of tweezers. 

You didn't immediately notice Grogu. He had sneaked up to the instrument panel and was sitting on it. It wasn't until you felt his little fingers in your hair, while you were on your knees, your head under the controls, that you knew he was there. 

"Hello Grogu." You said, without taking your eyes off the circuit.

The child cooed cheerfully and you could now feel him knotting your hair. 

"I hope you at least have a hairdressing diploma." You joked. 

Grogu chuckled again. 

"Okay, I trust you then," you replied. 

You plugged two more connectors into their respective wires before you put the power back on in the entire ship. Then you raised your head towards the child. 

"Now it's time for the real thing!" you said. "I'll give you the honour of pushing this button." You pointed out the button that triggered the simple opening and closing of the cockpit door. 

Grogu did not hesitate and pushed the button. The door slammed shut, making you and the child jump. 

"Ah, that was a bit fast." You said.

You pressed the button again but nothing happened. You tried again, but the door stayed as closed as it was.

"Uh, hello Houston, we have a problem." 

Grogu whined and you reassured him with a pat on his back. 

"I'll sort it out, don't worry." 

You went to the door, banging lightly on it to make the metal ring. You were hoping to catch Mando's attention, who was supposed to be nearby repairing a landing gear. 

"Mando?" You called in the hope that your voice would carry enough without frightening the child. 

There was a moment of silence and then you heard footsteps coming towards the door. 

"What's going on? "Mando asked you as he tried to open the door. 

"I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the electrical circuit is back on. The bad news is that I must have made a mistake in some of the connections so I'm stuck in here with Grogu.” 

"Huh, is it... is it okay?” 

Mando seemed bewildered and you heard him try to open the door from his side again. 

"Yes, it will just take a little longer than expected.” 

"I'll stay around, just in case.” 

"Thank you," you said before you went on, "oh and, can you watch my dog? He has to stay close enough in the meantime.” 

After a moment of silence, you heard him nod and then move away. You knew that Mando wasn't very comfortable with Banjo but you thought that this would certainly be an opportunity for him to realize that your dog was a good paw.

"Well, back on the work!" You said, turning to Grogu, "it's not a distribution board that's going to rule here, right, Grogu?"

He cooed eagerly and watched you get down on your knees again and get back into those stubborn electrical circuits. 

Grogu was watching you a lot. He had eventually joined you and you had made him understand with a simple gesture that he shouldn't put his claws into the circuit. He was watching you from every angle. Every once in a while he caught the bottom of your wool jumper, checking the fabric. He would babble happily when you seemed to have found the solution and scowl as soon as he saw your face harden with annoyance. 

You were so focused that it was hard for you to pay attention to him, and yet he had eyes only for you at the moment. Grogu was constantly looking for something. He looked at your face. Especially your face. He wanted to see you. But you were not seeing him. Because there was one thing you didn't know yet, but which he had known for many years. 

At the same time, how could you know it? Until yesterday space was only the solar system, if you look at it broadly, so how could you see Grogu the way he saw you? Or rather, as he was trying to see you. 

Grogu tried again and again because he felt it. He had felt it in you. That thing that ran through him too. And he had tried so hard to make you see it that he suddenly sat down tired on the floor.

And it was at this very moment that you finally decided to see him. 

"Oh well, what's the matter with you sweetheart?" You asked as you took him in your arms. "Why don't you take a nap on the seat, it's more comfortable." You said, completely unaware of the tremendous effort Grogu had just made. 

You finally closed the panel, satisfied with the adjustments made. 

"Let's see how it goes.” 

You pressed the opening button and the door finally decided to open. 

"Hey, Grogu, we're free!” 

But Grogu had already fallen sound asleep on the seat. You watched him for a moment, touched by his little ears turned down. You gently stroked his ear with your fingertips. You didn't know what species he was, and Mando didn't necessarily know any better, but in the end you realized that it didn't matter. 

Grogu was a very special little being. You didn't know how to describe him, but ever since he and Mando had come into your life, there was a little flame that was reignited. There was that little something that had filled an empty spot, or rather, had taken back its rightful place in your heart. 

You didn't know how to say it, perhaps because it was something still unclear, a bit odd, not completely understood by ordinary people, but Grogu and Mando had awakened this thing in you. And you were not able to say what impact it might have in the future. 

[realm-sweet-realm]

Sammy and Jack. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Crisis of Faith, chapter 2

Sammy didn’t dream of Jack again until his next crisis of faith, and Sammy’s faith was very difficult to break. It had begun while Sammy, now a lost one made of fluid ink, was hiding in a wall, watching as a severely ink-infected woman raved.

“Mother, why do you punish me!?” she shouted as, with all the power left in her body, she tried to force open the padlocked doors of the women’s washroom. Her veins, prominent due to age and leanness, were a pitch-black web on her skin, and her wiry muscles had wasted away to bone.

Sammy had, on Joey’s command, overseen dozens of ink infections by now, and knew that there was nothing unusual about Emma Lamont’s case of it. Every single victim he had overseen had held some kind of delusion. Some believed that they were being poisoned by the government or their enemies, or that they were developing a mental illness. A very common one, however, was that they were receiving some sort of punishment, test, or reward from an all-powerful being- either God, or from a seemingly random entity that they’d decided to treat as one.

What if... Sammy’s beliefs were no different from this madwoman, screaming at the ghost of her mother?

Sammy moved on to check on the other infection victims. Even if Bendy wasn’t to be worshipped, the thought of ascension was all that kept him going. He sacrificed people on Joey’s command because the ink had told him to. He wrote his scriptures because he believed they were meaningful. He led the lost ones to Bendy and away from the lies their voices had told them because he truly believed that his voice had been the truth, and it seemed to give them hope, too.

Sammy passed  through the prison of ink creatures as he made his way to Joey’s sanctuary, where he now slept. A Charley was repeatedly banging its head against the bars of its cage. Lost ones wept. Ink stained every surface, making the brightly-lit room feel suffocatingly dark. Sammy was glad to phase through the wall into Joey’s sanctuary, where he could lie down on the couch and rest.

All this had to be leading to something. He couldn’t take it otherwise.

---

Sammy woke to the feeling of someone softly shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to see Jack, tears in his eyes and that disarming smile on his face.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Jack asked gently.

Sammy, with a bit of difficulty, sat up and realized that he was in a hospital room, complete with an IV in his arm. He felt very weak, but also lighter- like a burden had been taken off of him. “Awful,” he admitted.

“Well, you want some good news? The ink is gone. All of it. You still have a lot of organ damage, but it’s nothing they can’t fix in a couple weeks. In other words, it’s over, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay.”

It took Sammy a half a minute to even process that. Once he did, though, he broke into tears of relief and hugged Jack as tightly as he could.

“Thank you. God, thank you for making me come here. You saved my life.”

Jack hugged him back. “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything. I know this took a lot of courage for you. And... I’m really glad you did it. I was so scared when I found you in your sanctuary. You were so sick... I thought I’d lose you. Sammy, I think I love you. But... we can talk about that later. Right now, you need to rest.”

“I love you, too.” Easiest words Sammy had ever said.

After a little more chatting, Jack left. Sammy wandered over to the bathroom to get a look at himself in the mirror. Admittedly, he didn’t look great. He looked like a person who’d narrowly survived a life-threatening illness, because that’s what he was. His skin was still pale and sunken, and he was still pretty gaunt, but the black veins, the bruise-like purple splotches on his skin, and even the staining in his mouth and his long, blond hair- it was gone. When Sammy woke, he would have given anything to see his human face again.

---Two years later---

As often happened whenever Sammy decided to play his banjo, a small crowd had gathered around him. Today, the crowd consisted of three lost ones, Jack (of course), a moderately ink-infected woman, and one of their last healthy men. The song Sammy was playing was "I’ll fly away.” He wasn’t singing it today, but he had sang it for his followers in the past, simply replacing the word, “God’s” with “his,” since “Bendy’s,” unfortunately, was two syllables.

“You know, it’s amazing how you can remember music like that,” said David, the only non-infected person in attendance. “I'm already forgetting the words to my favourite songs since it’s been so long since we’ve been able to just turn on a radio. How do you do it?”

Sammy would have smiled if he still had a mouth. “Well, a part of it is just natural ability,” Sammy admitted. “But. I have a secret to tell you. A part of it is faith. Faith can do great things. Collective faith in Bendy is the reason that we are the largest organization in this dimension. This village was built on faith. Faith keeps us united! Faith keeps us safe! And... faith allows me to to see into the old world every night when I close my eyes. I hope that all of you one day achieve that absolute belief that something in this world is good.”

“Heh. I’m trying. But all I have are nightmares of Bendy,” a lost one complained.

“Well, keep trying. Believe in his benevolence.” With that, Sammy got up and left for bed, patting Jack on the head on the way out. If only they knew that he used to be plagued by those same nightmares.

---

Sammy’s dream came in to form. He was on a bus, sitting next to Jack. Outside their window, snow was falling gently over a pretty,  snow-covered forest. For a while Sammy just sat in peace, holding Jack’s hand and enjoying the scenery.

“Excited to see your parents again? I know I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sammy nodded. “I can’t wait.” Sammy had always wanted to introduce Jack to his parents. He remembered that there was a strong reason why he hadn’t done it while he was alive, but he couldn’t remember what it was. “My Dad is going to love you. You’re a lot like him, you know. Do you remember why we didn’t do this sooner?”

“Because I’m a man,” Jack answered, totally calm.

“Oh!” Sammy had forgotten a lot about the outside world since his transformation, but nothing so big as the existence of homophobia. It was kind of alarming that the ink was affecting his brain that much. “God. I’m so... forgetful. I’ll just have to introduce you as my musical partner or something. It’s unconventional, but they've seen me do weirder.”

“You  know, Sammy, it’s like you got new lease on life after the ink incident. I love that. But yeah, you’re forgetting things left and right!” Jack teasingly jabbed him with his elbow.

“Yeah... Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Jack said. Sammy worried what Jack would think, but looking into those calm brown eyes, he trusted him to not to react badly. And it would be nice to have one person he didn’t have to lie to.

“This is a dream. In the real world, I never got help for my ink infection, and now me and dozens of other people are trapped a dimension full of monsters. I’m holding a large band of people together by convincing them to collectively worship one of them. And you,” Sammy took a deep breath, “you’re there, too. But you haven’t had a coherent thought in years. I keep hoping that one day, we’ll make it out, and I’ll be able to confess to you and we’ll actually build a life like this. So... I’m forgetful because that ink is affecting my mind, and I’m happy because this world is my escape. And because you’re here, of course.” Sammy couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes. He’d probably just made himself sound like a lunatic.

Jack turned Sammy’s head to look at him. “Hey. I believe you. And... that sounds really rough. I wish I could help you.”

Sammy smiled. “Thanks. But you've been helping me all along.” Sammy laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. Maybe once the bus stopped, they’d get some hot chocolate and look at some shops before seeing his parents. It would be nice.

---

Sammy was violently shaken awake by a trio of searchers. More were behind them- as though half the village had crammed itself into his bedroom.

“Bendy is here!” one of them yelled. “What do we do?”

That was a good question. Sammy reached for his axe, but then he stopped. This was, according to the gospel he’d been feeding them, their saviour. “Go out to greet him,” Sammy instructed, trying not to sound as hesitant as he felt. “Bring him offerings of bacon soup. Bring everyone, even the Boris clones- they used to be human, too.”

The crowd of lost ones dispersed. Sammy watched with bated breath from the balcony of his lost-one village home as a massive crowd- lost ones, searchers, people both infected and healthy, and their three Boris clones- gathered along the ink river. Dozens of cans of bacon soup were placed along the river bank as an offering. Bendy stood on the other side of the river. Their drawbridge lowered, but Bendy decided instead to walk on the ink’s surface like the God they treated him as. The crowd gasped and made way. Bendy took an ink-infected man in one arm, stroked his cheek, and bit his face off.

Screams filled the air. People ran in all directions. Sammy was frozen for several seconds before he took action.

“Everyone! Run for cover! We have displeased him! I repeat, run for cover!” Sammy's booming, demonic voice covered the great distance it needed to. Upon seeing the people run and Bendy chase after them, Sammy himself slammed shut his doors and windows and listened in horror to the screams.

When it was over, all he could think to tell his people was that they needed to reconsider how they were paying tribute to the ink demon. If they changed their methods just a little, then the demon would be helpful instead of violent, and they would be freed.

To Sammy’s mixed relief, they actually believed it.

---

eleven years went by. Within the first three, every single flesh-and-blood person in the sketch dimension was infected, killed, or both, and became a lost one.

Their minds were rotting. Increasing numbers of lost ones struggled to remember anything about themselves or the outside world. Wandering aimlessly or resting in ink puddles, they were helpless as zombies.

But not Sammy. Sammy remained- comparatively, at least- as sharp as a whip, and told the lost ones tales so vivid about the outside world that they could almost taste its brilliance and freedom. Sammy only wished that Jack- the real Jack- could understand any of it.

There was nothing to do about that but what Sammy had been doing all along: keep the community together. Keep the lost ones moralized and sane. Figuratively and literally dream of a  better world. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sammy didn’t want to forget a thing about the real world, but little pieces had fallen away, bit by bit. In his dreams, there were now places he couldn’t visit because he didn’t remember what they were like. His reflection in the mirror had become a human-shaped blur as he forgot his appearance. The same thing had happened to the faces of people he used to remember clear as day. One day, he would forget it all, too- just as everyone else had.

It was hard to keep hope.

One of Sammy’s dreams found him walking down a beach with Jack at his side. Sammy knew that the two of them had relocated at some point, but he didn’t know to where. His American geography was rather fuzzy at this point.

“Can I vent to you about the other world?” Sammy asked.

“Sure,” Jack said. Jack was one thing that Sammy’s memory hadn’t gone fuzzy on. Sammy still remembered every soft curve of his face, every freckle, every detail. His dark brown hair was starting to grey, but not because Sammy remembered him that way- it had been many years, and growing old together was part of the fantasy.

“Bendy came to the village again today. He killed a few lost ones and then left. People are losing faith in me and I don’t know how to get it back. And to make matters worse, a false prophet is going around saying we should worship the angel instead! She’d enslave us if we did that!" Sammy chucked a baseball-sized rock into the water, then composed himself a bit. “And you know, we’re all going to be mindless drones eventually. I’m thinking... maybe I won’t fight the false prophet. I could leave the village, hide in a vent, and spend as little time awake as possible. Ink creatures can sleep for days, you know. What do say? Can we stay like this forever? Enjoy this world until I lose my mind like all the rest?” Sammy took Jack’s hands and looked desperately into his eyes.

Jack hesitated, but by the look on his face, Sammy already knew what his answer would be. “I’m sorry. You know I have to say no. The lost ones need you.”

“But why am I the one who has to stay strong for them? I’m sick of it.”

“Because you’re the one who can. I know it isn’t fair, but you’re the reason they’ve been protecting each other. And it sounds like if you leave them now, they’ll throw themselves at Alice. Do it for them. And if you can’t bring yourself to care about them... do it for me. The real me. You still love him, right?”

“Of course...” Sammy probably would have done this sooner if he didn’t care about the well-being of his searcher friend.

Jack put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I don’t know how, but you’ll get out some day. And in the meantime, I’m here.”

Sammy tried to think of some objection, but he couldn’t. He muttered a “thanks” and kept walking along the beach. Jack followed. It was, if nothing else, a beautiful night, and he might as well enjoy it.

“Jack... tell me what I look like. I don’t care that it’ll just be something you made up. Tell me anyhow.”