#i hope we get a real waltz in the very end

[heretherebedork]

The three phases of dancing between Fadel and Style: joyous, mourning and tender.

Bonus: the original sexy fantasy

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Nine

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: It’s here! Just figured I’d get it out quick, so I spent ages just writing and then editing! Hope it’s up to par? It’s a long one, again..

Might edit this again when I'm not running on three hours sleep:) x

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

It wasn’t too long after my call with Danny ended that I stepped back through the garden door and into the kitchen, only to find Marshall already there, elbows pressed against the counter as he typed away on his phone. He looked up at the creak of the door and so I smiled in hello, tucking my own phone into my back pocket as I padded on closer, making sure to lock up behind me.

“Danny said his goodbyes and apologised again for his army mates.” I found myself saying with a slight chuckle and watched as Em turned off his phone to set it to the side, pushing up and away from the countertop.

“Was nice to meet him. You speak about him a lot.” Marshall replied with a small smile, the getsure genuine even under the bright lights the kitchen offered. “Kid’s in bed already,” He added with a slight jilt of his chin before his head turned ever so towards the hallway, “You up for another night of tv?”

Grinning, honestly unable to help the action, I widened my eyes and feigned fawning over the very idea, “God, you know how to entertain a woman. Who needs alcohol and a club full of sweaty people when you’ve got Rick Grimes and walkers waiting for you?”

Marshall rolled his eyes in retort, scoffing lightly in amusement, but I did note the uneasy look that crossed his face, even if it only lasted a split second. “Never claimed to be babysittin’ you whilst you’re here. You wanna go out, go ahead.”

It was my turn to gift him an eye roll then, the daft idiot. “And miss the chance of another popcorn fight breaking out? Yeah, I think not.” I said as I waltzed past him, heading straight for the living room we’d invaded the night previous.

I was still searching for the remote when he finally emerged in the doorway behind me, pausing there briefly. It was only once I’d finally caught sight of the stupid thing that he chose to speak up again, “I was bein’ serious, before. You don’t have to stay cooped up here with us.”

The tele had since been turned on, the screen buzzing to life before its loading page flashed up to greet us. My brow furrowed in my stance by the edge of the settee and it stayed even as I turned to spare him a glance from over my shoulder. He looked a little ominous standing there in the shadow of the doorway, the tv being the only thing to shed a small amount of warmth and light into the dark room. 

“Shut up, I was just messing.” I waved off whilst flashing him a wry smile, before I turned back to the tv screen so that I could scroll my way back to the series we’d been watching the night before.

But Marshall didn’t appear to be anymore at peace after hearing the sentiment, his shoulders were tense and his forehead was suddenly littered with slight lines when he decided to bypass me and drop down onto the sofa.

I joined him a couple seconds later, throwing him a wary glance as I clicked on the third episode we’d somehow managed to get to and lowered myself down onto the cushions less than arm's length away.

The show started and for the first ten minutes we sat in a mutual silence, though I couldn’t help but feel as though I’d made a real big misstep with my earlier joke. It was just as the scene shifted again, the library moulding into the prison’s outer fields, that Marshall shifted, using the pillow between us as an excuse to shuffle into a better position, one which left him sitting a whole lot closer than he’d previously been.

My legs had come up to hide beneath me not long after I’d first sat down, so with his new position it just meant that my knees were now almost grazing his own. My eyes flickered between the barely there touch and the tv screen. 

Marshall slumped. Knee pressing further into my own.

I allowed it, wondering if it was purposeful. 

“Sorry.” He murmured after a static moment passed and he didn’t make the effort to move away either. I wondered if that was really what he was apologising for. 

Deciding not to comment on it, I simply shifted so that my head could rest against the back cushion of the couch, leaving my shoulder and side to fall in line with his torso. I felt, more than heard, him look over at me, before his focus was back on the tv screen once more. 

We sat that way for the remainder of that episode, my eyes growing heavier the further in we got. I put it down to the residual lapse in jetlag, but Marshall’s presence and his unusual knack for always being able to radiate body heat like a sodding furnace might have had something to do with it too.

I jerked slightly when I eventually felt my head fall forward, startling myself a tad, and pulled back from the way I’d been just about ready to nod right off. My temple seemed to have caught the curve of Em’s shoulder though on the way down and so I shuffled back a tad to flash him a sleepy smile full of silent apology, to which he merely shook his own head and shifted so that he could offer up his shoulder without words said or questions asked.

My throat grew a little tight at the gesture, never really having had that sort of companionship before, even in the people closest to me, and slowly allowed my chin to droop, almost cautiously as if I was preparing for him to laugh me off. But he didn’t. Simply waited me out, like a person would a stray dog when trying to lure them near.

I must’ve fallen asleep there after a while, which surprised me enough to have me blinking blearily awake again once I’d realised, because the next thing I knew the sofa had shifted and the soft light from the tele had since paused in its stuttering of scenes. 

Sniffing, I attempted to bury myself further into the cushions beneath me, missing the warmth that I’d found there just moments before, but it was then that I heard a light huff of laughter, one which had me rubbing at my eyes only to cast a glance towards it.

Marshall was there, standing over me, one hand on my knee whilst he tried to shake me awake as gently as he could. My gaze caught on the small smile he wore, the same one which appeared to grow when I frowned up at him and then around the room, trying to get a sense for what had happened and where I’d fallen asleep.

A tap to my knee had me looking back at him.

“Missed two episodes.” Marshall mentioned in a low murmur, smirking at the way I wrinkled my nose in turn, “Don’t think I’m rewatchin’ them jus’ ‘cause your ass decided to fall asleep.”

I hummed, still attempting to wrap my head around the fact that I’d just been asleep and was now somewhat awake, whilst simultaneously trying to stay alert enough not to fall back into that blissful state. “Sorry.” I whispered tiredly, barely even aware of the word as it slipped past my lips.

Marshall’s mouth quirked upwards before his head was shaking again, “You’re good, was just kidding.”

I smiled at the thought of him watching the episodes for a third time, just for me, and then giggled a little.

His hand encased my knee again but squeezed gently this time, it was when I looked over at him that I realised I’d let my eyes slip closed again. “Come on, gotta get movin’.”

I dreaded the very thought of moving but knew even in my dreary state that I couldn’t stay curled up on the sofa, so I inhaled quietly and moved to nod my head, taking the hand that wasn’t holding my leg and allowing it to hoist me up.

Marshall was smooth and considerate in the way he helped guide me up, letting me lean into his side as he turned off the tv, leaving only the nearby lamp to light our way out of the living room and into the hallway. I stumbled slightly on the small step that separated the two adjacent rooms but Marshall was there again, arm wrapped tightly around my middle whilst his other hand gripped my own, to keep me steady. 

I blinked a little more at the almost fall, allowing myself to pause and squeeze my eyes shut tight enough that when I opened them again the world was a little less blurred at the edges. “I’m knackered.” I ended up saying, voice carrying in a dull whisper.

Em responded with a light snort, the hand at my hip squeezing a fraction as we started up the staircase. “This gone be a usual thing with you, me carryin’ you to bed?” He wondered, though even in my sleepy state I could tell that the ask was more humorous than anything slightly related to irritation. 

Still, the question reminded me of the night before when he’d also helped aid me up the stairs. The image of his smirking face flashed to the forefront of my mind at the prompt, the way he had waited for me to step beyond my bedroom door before he’d finally allowed himself to walk away. Tomorrow, he’d said whilst my fingers had toyed with the door’s handle.

“No.” I murmured then to his question, sniffing as I slumped further in his hold, wondering over the steps and why he had so many of them. “Normally I’m a night owl. Don’t sleep much.” I added in explanation, the words accompanied by another sleepy smile that had him gazing down at me. 

Marshall hummed but was quiet as we moved up onto the landing, it was only when we reached my door that he shifted ever so to get it open, the handle clunking back up again in his haste to keep me upright against his side. I murmured another quiet apology.

“Stop sayin’ sorry, dummy.”

I snorted at the term, eyes slipping closed again, “Is that meant to be endearing?”

His tut echoed throughout the bedroom and it was then that I realised I was perched on the end of the king size bed. I blinked, but instead of peering around the rest of the room, my eyes caught on him and the way he was now pulling back the sheets, reshuffling the many pillows on the other end. 

My lips rolled against one another before I thought to say something, “Too many.”

Marshall peered back at me from where he was stood leaning over the bed, one knee pressed into the mattress. I wondered briefly if he knew how good he looked then, before he spoke again, brow raised. “What?”

“Pillows.” I muttered, hand flapping lazily over to the mountain.

For a long second he just stayed there, eyes turning towards the top of the bed before they met mine once more. I rubbed at my face to hide an oncoming yawn. He waited another second before pillows started to fly.

Startled by the soft thuds they made when they hit the floor, I watched on as he windled the stack down to a simple two, fluffing them before his head was turning towards me once more. “Good?”

His voice was ever so soft, all kind and gentle like. It made the words I felt like saying get stuck in my throat and a light flush to paint my cheeks, I nodded. 

It was then that he tilted his head in a gesture for me to move, smiling to himself as I rolled over the top of the duvet to settle on the sheeted mattress beneath. I flashed him another tired grin after settling in, wriggling beneath the sheets to get comfy and fight away the cold that had crawled in beside me.

My face seemed to crease after that and I tugged at the duvet to get the bed frame to release its bottom end. Marshall caught on quick enough and pulled it free for me whilst I shuffled out of the trousers I’d yet to take off. He blinked at the sight of the fabric which appeared a moment later, before he snorted to himself and offered to take them, stepping away to fold them up and place them down on the dresser nearby.

“All good?” He asked once again. I glanced back at him from under the cocoon I’d created and took in the softness of his smile, the way his hands were now folded politely behind his back, and how he was simply just waiting for me to answer him, as though he had all the time in the world and wasn’t fighting off sleep himself. 

I nodded, my chin hidden beneath the covers but my returning smile was able to be seen in the slight curve of my cheeks. “Good.” I whispered. Then, feeling a little silly, I added, “Sorry for–”

He waved the end of my sentence off, stepping closer to the bed as he reached out, ready to turn off the bedside lamp. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Makes me feel useful.” Smirking, his fingers grasped the lamp’s cord but he didn’t move to pull it just yet.

“Still,” I pushed, eyes growing heavier once more now that I was surrounded by the weighted quilt that seemed to be hellbent on capturing all the heat that it could, “Thank you, I don’t usually..”

Marshall’s smirk dimmed ever so into something more thoughtful, “Means a lot that you trust me. Don’t stress about where you fall asleep.”

Trust. Wasn’t that a funny fucking thing.

The lamp was off and he was walking away before I could utter a reply to that, and it was only when the door creaked open a tad bit further to let him have his escape that I let the weight of his words sink in. 

It was a maddening thought to realise that I did trust him. Wholeheartedly. And that was probably the strangest thing.

–

I could not for the life of me have told you where I was, let alone what the time it could have possibly been, when I roused from my coma-like state. 

The first thing I noted was that the curtains had all been closed and the jumper I’d worn last night had since been tossed to the floor alongside a plethora of pillows. It was slow going, pulling myself up and into a sitting position, letting the duvet pool around my hips when I attempted to get my brain to function properly again. 

It was another minute or two before I found the strength to roll over and make a grab for my phone, only to find that it had since been plugged into the outlet by the bedside table to charge. My brow pinched at the sight, not recalling having put it on charge, but still I reached out to grab it. 

The light I was met with had me wincing before I managed to adjust, eyes widening slightly at the time I was shown. Almost eleven. Wow, it was honestly somewhat of an achievement for me, seeing as the bouts of insomnia I often wavered through had me falling asleep far too late and waking far too early. I figured all the flying and the hectic schedule I’d had before landing in Detroit had finally caught up to me.

My mind short circuited at the reminder. Detroit. Marshall.

“Shit.” I hissed, dropping the phone down onto the mattress as I willed myself to get out of bed. 

I tried to remember what had transpired after talking to Danny, how I’d let myself be lulled by the tv and the comfort of the man sat beside me. 

Dragging a hand over my face, I felt a bout of embarrassment flutter through me, feeling oddly caught out at having let someone see me so exposed. My legs dangled over the edge of the bed for a long moment before I finally found the energy to move, pulling my body over towards the bathroom and into the shower before I could regret the decision. Any of them, including both the night befores and the choice to not linger any longer in my pit. 

The shower worked wonders for waking me up that little bit more, pushing the last remnants of sleep from my mind as I stood under its spray. It was then that I found myself feeling thankful again for Marshall and all his odd eccentricities, for him being the overanalyzing type and having had the guest bath stocked with not just the necessities most would need, but the ones he figured I’d like, seeing as the theme was a mix of vanilla and coconut– something I’d mentioned after I’d gotten a delivery of candles a couple weeks prior.

I tried to push the thoughts of how endearing that whole mess was, the fact that he’d gone and remembered, as I stepped out and made quick work of getting ready for the day, forgoing drying my hair so that I could slip into the baggiest jeans I owned and a soft tee that often slipped over the curve of my shoulder. 

The house was oddly quiet when I slipped past the bedroom door and down the steps, once again forcing thoughts of last night out of my head, of his grip, the soft smiles we shared, the–

I took a much needed breath when I reached the bottom, swivelling on my heel to cast a glance about. I knew that Rosie must have already been at school even without me not spotting her bag or shoes by the door, but I was still left with the feeling of longing I often experienced whenever I woke up to find that Lottie had since left. 

Pushing on though, I noted that the house didn’t have that familiar chill I was used to enduring back home. The English weather was a mess of emotions even on summer days where the sun shone brightly, so it was nice not to be shivering my way into the kitchen and over to the kettle. 

It was after doing exactly that though, that I spotted a small post-it stuck to the fridge door.

(Dropped off Z, in the studio if you need me. Eat!  - Em)

Snorting softly at it, I tore the note down and let the corner press into the pad of my forefinger for a second or two. It was nice, having someone care enough to not want me to worry. Even the whole Eat! had me grinning, so used to running on fumes and pure anxiety that I often forgot. It was strange to note that it was a habit he’d picked up on, or perhaps I was just thinking too much into it. Maybe it was just him being personable.

Still, I folded the post-it up and slid it into the back of my phone case all the same. Not stopping to think twice about the why as I looked up at the kettle’s violent whistle.

I moved through my usual morning motions with an ease that shouldn’t have felt effortless in a kitchen that was not mine, but I did, walking to sit at the island not long after I’d procured myself a cup of tea and some toast. 

I took to scrolling through my phone, checking Twitter for updates on friends back home and then moving over to Netflix to see if there were any new series that had dropped and appeared worth watching. 

It was during that time that my phone soon rang. With one glance at the name I was wearing a mad grin and swiping to answer, “Well, isn’t this a surprise!”

A short scoff could be heard from the other side of the line before a familiar lilt trailed through, “And here I thought I was going to be met with love and a plethora of questions about my wellbeing. But no, only your sincerest sarcasm!” Lottie sighed theatrically, as though she wasn’t defeating the entire purpose behind her whole spiel.

“It’s seemingly a familial trait.” I quipped with a fond roll of my eyes, “But I have missed hearing your voice, texts don’t make up for much.”

“And what about my short videos?” Lottie replied with enough emotion behind her voice that I could already guess that she was raising one brow and pursing her lips. “Did they not suffice enough?”

“You mean the three second clips you keep sending me?” I laughed around a sip of tea, thinking back to the latest one I’d received the very same morning, “I don’t think me seeing your knee and hearing a Rihanna song play in the background is the same thing as knowing you’re alright back there.”

“Is too, and there were others!” Lottie immediately defended before a few other voices trailed through, “How about the one of me in Maths, hey?”

My face flattened at the reminder, “You mean the one of you gettin’ your phone taken away by your teacher?”

“Yes! See, all was fine, even Ms Plait reckoned so.” She quipped, the glee which lined her tone was oh so audible. “Did you not see that lovely smile of hers?”

I almost choked on my next chuckle, not having expected the comment, “Oh yeah, I saw. She still looks the same as the last time I saw her, face like a slapped arse and with one too many missing teeth.” Lottie sniggered and once again those voices from earlier followed, “You on your way home?” I wondered, looking down at the time and noting that she should have already left school by now.

“Yeah, just walking with Shan and Tea.” Her answer was followed by a loud hurrah of hellos from the pair that had me smiling.

“Heya girls, hope you’re all alright!” I greeted, listening to them ramble away for a couple of minutes about this and that, throwing me back to the days where the two girls had first come over to visit Lotts. 

Time got away from me a little after that, leaving me with an almost finished but cold brew and the remnants of my toast that I soon got up to throw and wash away whilst Lottie and her mates said their goodbyes so that they could part ways.

“You’re having a good time then?” I found myself asking once Lotts had finished speaking about her school day, “Nothing I should worry about?”

I could practically feel the roll of her eyes as she huffed, “Yes, Lia. Honest. I’ve been keeping you updated, Mila too, whenever she texts– even Danny called yesterday! Did you meet those knobheads he calls friends? The Irish one’s well fit.”

Pursing my lips to keep from smiling, I shook my head at her antics. “I did and need I remind you, you’re fourteen?”

“I was just stating a fact!” Lottie argued, her voice unable to be drowned out even by the car that then passed, “God, you’d think you didn’t know me at all.” She tacked on, her tone teasing enough that I knew she wasn’t too bothered by the fact that she’d been called out. 

“Know you too well.” I rebuked half-heartedly and then smiled at the response I was met with. 

“Too much like you.”

“A shame that,” I snorted as I took back to sitting at the counter, eyes caught on the length of land that stretched out beyond the back door.

“Slander.” Lottie sniped, “But also the truth.”

We shared a chuckle even as I rolled my eyes, which led me onto the next topic of conversation I’d been wanting to bring up since my phone call with Danny in New York, “How’s things working out at Mum’s then?”

A pause followed that question. One that went on a second too long and had my shoulders tensing. 

“Lotts?”

“Hm? Sorry, was just– crossing the road, you know.” 

“Don’t lie. Tell me what’s going on before I hop on a plane and find out for myself.” I threatened, eyes catching on the island countertop as I pressed the phone closer to my ear, as though by doing so it would somehow allow me to be that little bit closer to her. 

“So dramatic,” Lottie joked but it fell flat, what with my impatience and the lack of humour which lined her tone. She sighed, “Dad got out early.”

My whole world seamlessly fell apart at those four words.

I couldn’t form a coherent thought let alone any real words, so it was only Lottie’s voice calling my name that had me blinking back out of my frozen stance and inhaling sharply. “What?”

She coughed, either to clear her throat or to buy herself a little more time, I didn’t know, but couldn’t bring myself to care. “He– well, he’s on parole. Got out about a week ago. Staying with Mum, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I jumped out of the barstool I’d taken up to begin treacherously pacing. For a brief moment I wondered whether it was possible for me to wear away the pattern in Marshall’s kitchen tiles. “What are you on about, Lottie? He’s serving sixteen years.”

A heavy sigh. “Obviously he got out on good behaviour then, served just over fourteen, din’t he?” 

I swallowed thickly, a motion which flipped my stomach and had me threatening to throw up the toast I’d just eaten. “Good fucking behaviour, him?” I scoffed out a laugh that was entirely mirthless, “And she’s just let him back, has she? I thought she was done with him the second he was inside!”

Lottie didn’t say anything to that, or for a while longer. It took me a minute to notice what with how seething I was. 

I forced myself to take a breath, because this wasn’t about me. Then started to think a bit more rationally.

“Look, I’ll look up flights now, yeah? I can be home by tonight, or tomorrow morning if I’m lucky. I don’t know yet. Just have to contact Mila, then talk with Marsh– Shit.”

Marshall, what was I going to tell Marshall? 

“Elia.”

Blinking, my reeling thoughts were immediately stopped by the sound of my sister’s voice, soft but demanding. She waited and I was left to tug a hand through my still damp hair.

“Listen, please don’t come back.”

What?

“What?” I croaked out, the ground having been ripped out from under me.

“It’s working.” Lottie replied, her voice still soft, trying to be kind. “I mean, I’ve stayed with Shan some nights but I’ve been staying at the house too. And it’s– it’s not bad, El. It’s nice even, to get to know him and things. Like at my own pace and whatnot.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“He’s changed apparently. Mum reckons so anyway, it’s what she told me.” Lottie continued on, filling the silence I’d left her with whilst my entire planet shifted, “Not so angry, or sad. Just tryna find a job and stuff, so he can follow the rules of his probation or something. Not sure. Din’t ask too much about it. He’s staying with Mum but he keeps to himself when he’s not trying to make amends and crap. Make up for lost time.”

Staying with Mum. In my fucking house, the very same one I’d paid for. That fucking scummy shitheaded cun– 

I forced myself to breathe. 

“El, it’s working out. I–” Lottie said, then took a second. When she spoke again, she sounded so small, her voice almost pleading, “He’s my Dad, Elia. I just want the chance to know him.”

My hand fell from my hair to cover my mouth, desperate to keep the sob that wanted to escape from being heard down the line. I swallowed it back, gave a shaky exhale, but eventually nodded. Even if it was just to myself. 

“Okay, Lotts.” I heard myself say, somehow. “Okay, yeah. That’s, it’s fair.”

I was rewarded with a big huff of air, one that told me I’d done the right thing, that she was relieved to hear me say that it was all fine. “Thanks, El! Knew you’d understand.”

I didn’t. I don’t, I wanted to say.

“Yeah, ‘course, Lotts. He’s your,” I swallowed again, the walls of my throat itching, hands shaking ever so slightly, “��Dad. If it’s what you want then, yeah. Who am I to stop you?”

Who am I? 

Violent flashes flooded my mind, words, voices. Then I was back in the kitchen again.

“Just, promise me, Lottie. Promise me that anything happens, you call me. You call Mila. You call Dan. Okay? Anyone. Anyone who can get to me. I’ll be there.” I told her in a low murmur, the desperation I felt seeping through but I didn’t take enough note of it to care. This was too important. “Promise me, Lotts.”

I could hear her smile in her next words, “Promise, El. Always. I love you.”

“Yeah, kiddo. I love you, too.”

…

I don’t know how much time passed after the call dropped, leaving me with nothing but the light spatter of rain that knocked against the house. But soon enough I was startled from where I’d been standing by the window in some sort of trance, staring down at the phone I still held in my hand. 

I looked up so fast it almost hurt, but my alarmed look softened when I noticed it was just Marshall stood there, a slight furrow marring the skin between his brows. “Figured I’d come find you.”

My eyes slipped closed as I jilted my chin in reply, taking a much needed breath before casting another glance out across the garden. My mind was stuck on my conversation I’d had with Lottie, on thoughts of home and plans that would ultimately fall through.

A hand encased my elbow. “Yo, you good?” Marshall was still there, having ducked his head a tad to better look into my glossy eyes, that frown more prominent than it had been just moments before.

I stared back at him and felt my lip wobble, before I took another short breath and put on a smile, hoping it was sort of semi-convincing seeing as I nodded in retort. Must have been a tough fucking wish though because he levelled me with an expression that ultimately called out on all my bullshit. 

“You wanna try that again?”

I casted my eyes downwards and chewed on the inside of my cheek, feeling the way his hand inched up my arm before he eventually wrapped me up in his hold, letting me bury my head in the curve of his shoulder. My eyes squeezed tightly shut and even though I didn’t move to hug him back, I sagged into his hold, which must have told him enough to keep the two of us standing there. 

“Who was on the phone?” He queried after a short while, fingers trailing over the small of my back almost subconsciously, but the gesture was enough to soothe the well in my throat and the chaos I had going on inside my mind.

“Lottie.” I answered, voice meek even to my own ears.

His chest moved with each breath he took, legs spread just far enough apart that his feet encased my own, and he smelt so familiar that it made me wonder just how quickly I’d grown to be comforted by it. Was that even normal?

“You need to head back?” He wondered out loud, the parent in him jumping out at the thought of something having happened with my sister, “You can use the jet, I can get Paul on it now.”

It amused me to no end to understand the lengths he’d go to help not just me, but my family too, warmed me completely in fact, but the offer also left me feeling lost. Because even though I would have left the second Lottie asked, I would have been devastated to leave. 

I shook my head where it rested against his shoulder, pressing my forehead to the joint there before I spoke, “No,” I told him, the syllable wavering, “Just– she asked me to stay.”

“Right.” Marshall said quietly, though it felt like he’d forced the word out, “And you don’t want to?” He questioned, trying to understand.

My head shook once more, “It’s complicated.”

His hold tightened by a fraction and we stayed that way for a long second, then two, before he drew back to get a good look at me. “You wanna talk?”

I couldn’t stand to look into his eyes in that moment, far too fearful that I’d just end up crying then and there, so I sniffed instead and glanced off to the side. “Just complicated, I guess.” I muttered, repeating myself whilst trying so very hard not to think about the anxiety I felt over leaving Lottie there, thousands of miles away from me.

“Well, complicated’s my middle fuckin’ name.” Em replied and I couldn’t help it, the stupidness of it made me laugh and I knuckled at his stomach in retort, dropping my eyes. But he stilled my hands, holding them close so that I would finally look up at him, “Mean it.”

I already knew that though.

I peered down at our hands, the way my fists were now pressed against his chest, his bigger than my own and all but swallowing them whole.

“Lottie’s dad.” Is what I found myself saying, eyes locked on the tribal tattoo that encased his wrist. Em nodded gently, the gesture moving his torso as he shifted beneath my hands. 

The muscle of my cheek was all torn up from where I’d been chewing away in my anxious mess, stressing over it all, and so I tried my best to keep from biting at it once more, not wanting to cut too deep. But even so, the notion typically centred me so I was now at a loss for how to process the plethora of thoughts that kept running through my head like a freight train at full speed. 

Marshall seemed to sense this though, because not a second later were his thumbs running over the ridge of my knuckles. I felt my hands slacken a bit in their fisted hold. 

“Well, you know how I mentioned he was inside? That first day I was here.” I finally continued, moving to peer back up at him again, only to find that he was already watching me, the blue of his eyes a shock to the system. I shook my head slightly and took another deep breath, “He got out, parole apparently. For good behaviour,” I scoffed at the very reminder but pushed on, “He’s staying with my mum and so that ultimately means Lottie too. Seeing as I’m not there.”

Marshall had since stilled in his entirety, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing with how suddenly motionless he went, but then his chin dipped and his thumbs resumed their gentle caress. “And she said not to go back?” He asked, clarifying. 

I shook my head. “She–” I tried to get the words out but had to pause, if only for a second, to actually form them, “She wants to get to know him. Says he’s alright now, that he’s changed.” My eyes rolled on their own accord at that, not believing it for a second, “And well, who would I be to deny her that, hey? I mean, I know how she felt, never knew my dad, but she has a chance, you know? She’d hate me if I took it from her. Even if I know better.”

I slumped when I was finally able to take another much needed breath, inhaling deep enough to dislodge the heaviness that weighed on my chest but not enough to clear it completely.

Em tugged on my wrists lightly and so I peered back at him, aware of the seriousness he had since taken on. “What’s that mean, know better?” He asked and I had to pretend I didn’t reel back from him, like it hadn’t been the first reaction to the reminder that simultaneously crossed my mind. “Hey,” He tugged again, even gentler than he had before but enough to draw back my gaze, “You don’t gotta tell me shit, but,” He paused, eyes flitting between my own, “I’m here, okay?”

Nodding, incapable of doing much else, I said, “I know.”

He gifted the tiny beginnings of a smile sincere enough to have me pressing my nails into the curve of my palms. “Is she safe? With him there.” He clarified and I could only blink up at him, he waited me out.

“I think so. I–” I stuttered, memories hitting me again. I tried to brush them away, but failed. “He wouldn’t hurt her, I know that.”

Just you then. 

The words went unsaid but the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. His hold lessened until I was able to let my hands drop to my sides. Marshall cleared his throat but I saw the way his hands fisted as he stepped away, “Was gone ask to work in the studio today, but we can just chill instead. Or you can do your own thing.”

I was quick to shake my head, already onboard with the studio idea. “No, studio sounds good. Keep my mind off shit.” I replied, looking down to check my phone and biting my lower lip when no new notifications from Lottie had come through.

“You sure?” Marshall prodded and when I looked over to him it almost appeared as though he was appraising me under a newfound light, behind the carefully guarded fortress that was his gaze. 

Trying not to frown, I nodded again in assurance. “Yeah, just lemme text her again, and maybe Mila, then I’ll be right there.”

He continued to watch me for a second longer and it was only as I was about to say something about it, that he moved. “I’ma grab some drinks. You have a preference?”

Blowing out a breath, I shrugged lightly, “Water, juice, anything really. I don’t mind.��

Marshall seemed to take that as an incentive to grab a majority of the fridge, loading it all up on the counter beside him before he let the door swing close behind him. I raised a brow after having pulled up Mila’s contact and bit back the obvious laugh that wanted to escape when he mimicked the gesture, “What?”

“You good to carry all that?”

He glanced over to the plethora of bottles he’d procured and then back to me, “Two trips.” He declared as he swiped half of the contents into his arms.

I laughed at the picture he made, wondering how easy it was for him to flip my moods entirely. “We don’t need that many!”

“If I could, I’d flip you off right now.” Was the only reply I was given as he wandered out of the kitchen. 

I let go of a sigh as I moved back to glance down at my phone again.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Did you know?  About Lottie?

It only took a second before those familiar three dots were littering the bottom of my screen. Though in fairness, her phone was basically her fulltime job.

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Everything’s fine. I told her not to worry you.

I couldn’t stop the scowl that overwhelmed my face at her response.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  You serious? How was that your decision to make mila??

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I care about the both of you. It wasn’t a split second decision, it was something I talked to Lottie about at length. She was the one who asked me to wait until I told you.  I didn’t want it to interfere with what we had going on. 

The fury which licked through me at her reply made her words feel too ingenuine. 

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Still not your fucking choice to make You should have told me You’re my manager, not her mother

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Oh is all I am then? A manager? I thought we were closer than that, at least it felt that way when you went and entrusted Lottie to me, when you gave me that trust and asked me not to regret it. This is me trying, El. I didn’t choose to be the person to mediate between you both, that just came with the job. If you don’t like how I dealt with it, then maybe you should rethink having me in your sister's life.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Is this your way of guilt tripping me? I just can’t believe you didn’t mention it, not once! You are my manager mila, but I thought you were my friend first and foremost Using me being here as an excuse, with you not wanting to use something like Lottie’s father coming back into her life to intervene with my work? Is just beyond wild. I really can’t believe you didn't tell me

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I thought I was doing best by the both of you. Just call me, Elia.  Please?

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I need some time to think Maybe later

I quickly switched back to my messages with Lottie, inhaling sharply when I saw that she’d replied to my last text. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 I love you loads and I wanna be there for you But I know you need to do this on your own I’m just worried Always worry about you, bug, but this is something I really didn't prepare for

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 I’m sorry I didn’t tell u Just figured it would be easier to wait til u got back Maybe u could meet him then, see how good it is My stomach rolled at the thought of being close to that man again, but I pushed through and didn’t linger on thoughts of me at sixteen. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 I can get a flight home anytime If you want me, I’m a phone call away You know that right?

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 I know but this is something I need to do On my own Like I love u Els, but this is for me to do

She knew where to hit where it hurt, I supposed, as I stared down at the messages that had come through not thirty seconds after my own. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Promise me, Lottie Anything happens, you call me

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 Nothing will happen but I promise Promise to also call u before bed tonite yh?

I bit down hard on my cheek at the reassurance, which did nothing to reassure me, and felt the first ebb of blood, the way its metallic taste fled over my tongue in a haste to flood its entirety. Silently I cursed myself, but before I knew it my thumbs were flying over my screen again. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Okay Love you, bug x

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 Love u more weirdo!! Xxxx

I guessed that it would just have to do for now.

A creak had me looking up and to no one’s surprise Marshall had come back for the second half of drinks, so I pocketed my phone after making sure that it was on alert and not the usual silent, then moved to meet him at the counter. “Want help?” 

His eyes narrowed at the offer and he was quick to swipe the lot of them up, “I said two trips.”

Shaking my head, I could do nothing but follow the idiot. Hoping to whoever was out there that the time in the studio would do me some good and allow me to leave thoughts of the past behind. For a while at least. 

–

The studio was just a rather large portion of the lower level of Marshall’s house. It was decked out though, kitted with all the latest works and better than a majority of studios I’d worked in, truthfully. But it also had this homey sort of feel that allowed the music to flow a lot better simply due to the atmosphere that offered a familiar comfort.

“You got it?”

I let the door close slowly behind me, trying not to let its heavy weight cause a slam, before I trailed my way back on over to where Marshall was sat on one of the two black couches. They were leather and sleek, but their obvious expense was muted by the multiple layers of blankets and pillows he had lining them.

I glanced at him and held up the bound book I had in hand, having darted up the stairs to pull it from my case when I realised he wanted to work through lyrics first thing. 

A majority of my thoughts were often jotted down in one notebook or another, but the notes app was a saviour for whenever an idea struck me and my book wasn’t near. I’d brought just the one on this trip, seeing as I’d been using it for the last two years and it was as thick as an actual brick. But back home I had about twelve others littering an old shelf in a room I mostly used for storage. The pleasures of having a house with rooms you didn’t really need, I figured.

Marshall’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of it, wrapped and bound in a thick wire to keep the pages from spilling open. I smirked in turn, wandering closer to slump down in the seat beside him, his laptop and the many pages he already had scattered about.

“You said book, not doorstop.” He mentioned when I turned to him, eyes still caught on the thing. 

I thumped him with it before I placed it down by his laptop. 

“Jesus.” He huffed, hand coming up to rub the arm I’d hit, before he made a reach for it. 

I cringed silently in wait, it was one thing to write in the thing but there were all sorts of odd bits and bobs in that book; from little receipts from dinners that had inspired songs to bottle caps and Polaroids that had written me albums.

“Be careful,” I hurried when his fingers unwound the strap I’d had to superglue twice in the past month alone, “It’s basically–”

“Falling apart?” Marshall finished for me.

I smiled sheepishly in turn, shoulders jutting upwards in a shrug. “Yeah.” 

He huffed a small laugh whilst I thinned my lips to keep from chuckling along with him. 

A normal person wouldn’t have really known where to start with a notebook this size, especially seeing as the pages were both upside down and back to front, having been written in haphazardly over the years and oftentimes stuck back together. But it was also due to the first few pages being all blacked out and slightly torn, an artistic choice I’d claim over the truth of my hatred for the words that had once marked it, as well as the paw prints of a mate’s dog who had won a battle of tug of war with it.

But Marshall had never once claimed to be conventional and so he headed straight for the middle where a large photo had been stuck in, surrounded by a multitude of signatures, drawings and markings. “What’s this?”

At his question, I followed his gaze down to where his fingers toyed with the book, fighting against gravity to keep the remaining pages from spilling over.

“Mostly from people I’ve worked with over the past year or two. Musicians, writers, producers, even got a couple roadies too. But there are some markings from mates– like, see that little picture of a cow, right there? That was my friend Fran, she does tattoos and the like, figured it would be a nice addition. She’s beyond talented though, did this massive mural for me back home.” I paused to look the rest of them over, then reached out to point at a signature floating nearby, “That there is David’s little hello, a smiley face alongside a couple drops of his coffee.”

“As in Bowie?” Marshall asked me, eyes caught and flitting over everything else the page had to offer.

I blew out a small chuckle but nodded, “Yeah, it was just before his 25th album came out. He was proper lovely, only got to talk to him for a few minutes though.”

Marshall hummed and then tapped a finger against a stark green ink that blotted a corner of the page, “This one?”

“Matty Healy. Worked with him on the last release. He just drew a massive knob because he is one.” I replied, thinking back to last time I’d been in London and spotted him and some of the band in a Soho nightclub. “They released their own album a month or so before your last. It’s their first but they’re brilliant.”

He hummed again, so I wasn’t sure as to whether he knew who the fuck I was going on about, but before I could explain a little, Em grabbed my attention once more, gesturing towards the page’s main focus, the picture. “How old were you here?”

I scratched the side of my neck and thought about it, “I wanna say twenty-two? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that though, but yeah, around that age.”

The picture was a cutout from the Camden New Journal at one of my bigger gigs, just after I’d been scouted in the bar I’d been working at. It was a snap of me and the small band I’d worked with once we’d finished our set, the crowd throwing pints up in the air whilst they’d started to crowd the stage. It was a picture I had framed back at the house as well as in a few of my other notebooks. It was something I turned to whenever I felt as though I was failing, or feeling uninspired.

Marshall’s thumb grazed lazily over its corner for a moment before he finally moved to turn the page, eyes instantly taking in the sudden change of pace. This page was scattered; it held a lollipop wrapper in one corner from a song I’d written about well, lollipops and the like, a couple of verses that were upside down and in luminous pink, and then there was another bout of lyrics from a whole different session marked down in dark blue that were written sideways.

“Your mind’s as fucked as mine.”

I snorted at the phrasing but decided to take it as a compliment, “Thanks.”

He shook his head and then started carding his way through the rest of the book, picking out the lyrics he recognised from songs of mine, as well as a few others he liked. It went on like that for a while, the two of us getting consumed in ideas and metaphors, the way we could play with words and shape them into something or other. 

An hour or two had to have passed before Marshall started pulling up different beats he’d been working on, explaining the samples used and the many layers that had been mixed in. I found myself liking a handful of them, even going as far as to start a harmony on one that Em appeared to tally down on a page he had laying out nearby. 

“So, you gone rap then?”

The question, however off-guard it caught me, was one that had me rolling my eyes, “You gonna sing?” I snarked back, my words sounding almost like a dare.

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip before they quirked up into a smirk, “I can’t sing. You though, you can spit.”

I shook my head and snorted, pulling the lyrics we’d scrounged up closer to me and purposefully not thinking about the notes I had stored away in my phone. 

“Don’t be like that.” Marshall prodded, shifting in his position to nudge me with his elbow, “Jus’ think about it. This could be the time to experiment. You say your label wants something different, something to garner attention on your next record, right? So.. this here, it’s just me and you. No one else. And I’m only gone judge you if you’re really crappy.”

“Oh, and that makes me wanna try so much more!” I enthused, letting my songbook spring back open as I pulled away– the thing honestly had a mind of its own.

Marshall tutted, “Come on.”

I sighed, but did end up looking back over to him. “You’re a dick.”

He raised his eyebrows in retort, then decided to try a new tactic. “Fine, how ‘bout this. You rap something of mine. Then I’ll sing one o’ yours.”

I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. “You're shitting me.”

Marshall just shook his head, “You in or out?”

My eyes flickered between his, mouth slightly agape. But found I couldn’t turn down the offer. “Alright, but I get to choose what song.”

“For me or you?” 

I flashed him a sly grin, “Both.”

He let go of a long breath but ultimately decided that the term was worth it, “Aight, bet.”

And so that was how I got to start rapping Rabbit Run in the middle of Marshall’s home studio, the beat playing throughout the room whilst the man himself watched on from the couch with a slow growing grin on his face. 

I got so into it that I ended up working my way through the entirety of the song, bouncing away and playing up to the freedom of it just being the two of us.

“Whoo, go on!” Em hollered loudly once the final lyric had come and the beat had ended, kicking his feet against the floor whilst I laughed and shook my head at the reaction. It was in moments like these that I could often forget that he was marginally one of the biggest rappers of our generation. 

When he was like this, all goofy and happy, he was just Em. 

“Good now?” I asked around another chuckle, my nose wrinkling as I moved to sag back into my seat, hating how my cheeks had flushed at being the centre of attention as well as his praise. 

“Good? Girl, you’re rappin’ on this record even if it kills me!” Marshall stated, blowing a breath out around his grin, the one I’d grown accustomed to only seeing in rare and few moments.

“Fuck off.” I huffed, but even with the harsh words I was still smiling, just sheepish in the face of his applause.

“I’m bein’ for real. You got talent. When you’re up there, you just go for it ‘cause it’s fun. It’s all a joke to you, and you like bein’ in on it. But you’re good.” Marshall told me, having turned in his stance so that he could gesture along to his words, only furthering his point. “You don’t even know it.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to look away, wanting to hide the warmth that failed to leave me as I waved off his words with a hand that he then caught with his own, tugging on my arm until I looked back at him. 

“Trust me on this.” 

Just hearing those words, I was instantly reminded of the night before. Means a lot that you trust me.

His eyes were so imploring that I couldn’t cope with it, so I smiled and let his fingers slip from my grasp. “This you trying to back out of our deal, Mathers? ‘Cause if I remember rightly, you still owe me a song.“

Marshall shook his head ever so, but let me get away with the change in subject, moving forward so that he could push himself to his feet. I slid closer to his laptop and headed to YouTube quickly to find an instrumental that someone had made of one of my songs. I looked through them all until I grinned and decided on an older work. 

“Ready?” I asked over the screen. He simply flipped me off in return, so I huffed around a smirk and pressed play, letting the track croon out of the surrounding speakers. 

Good Company was a song I’d written long before I’d gone and gotten signed. It was rough and full of soul, but was easy enough to sing along to if you missed the high runs on the bridge. It juxtaposed the best and worst parts of me, but concentrated on me only ever showing those worse and bitter parts of myself to those I loved most. It wasn’t one the label had liked at first but it grew on you, and though it hadn’t been a chosen single it had actually managed to make it onto the Top Ten when the album had debuted. It was a favourite of mine and to hear Marshall attempt to sing and not butcher it that badly, well, it was sort of like a dream come true.

“Why the fuck do you claim you can’t sing?” I announced the second the song came to a close. Because I honestly had to give it to him, even with the slight laughter he’s started out with, Marshall had truly given it his best. He’d pranced around like a div (which had just told me that he’d seen the music video) and had actually attempted to hit those higher notes that even I sometimes struggled with when playing live.

“‘Cause I can’t.” Marshall scoffed, panting slightly as he fell back onto the couch, fiddling with the rim of his hat whilst he took the spare second to catch his breath. 

“Don’t lie! You can. Bit pitchy at times,” He extended his arm out to swat me at that, yet I still continued on, “But you’re good, Marsh! We should harmonise together.”

He rolled his eyes at the very idea, but kept them shut when he pulled his hands up to rest on his stomach. I smiled at the sight. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me just yet, old man.” I prompted, “We’ve got work to do.”

Marshall’s foot struck out to kick at my ankle, which was deserving, I supposed. Still, I returned the hit with just enough force to get him up and moving again. He sighed in resignation and then reached for the glasses he had laid out, swivelling his hat round so that he could look over the few sheets we’d complied.

Struck at the sight of him in his wired frames and backwards cap, I had to literally tear my eyes away and down onto the paper I was handed before he could catch me looking. He was none the wiser. 

“We’ve got some good shit. But ‘s not enough.” Marshall mentioned after a minute or so of silently debating, his eyes wracking over the sprawled lyrics we’d produced. 

I chewed on my lower lip, phone burning a hole in my back pocket. When he sighed once more, I felt the sudden need to just show him the notes and put the idea out there. 

Heaving out a breath, I forced the device from my jeans to open up my notes app, flicking past the few that were worthless until I came across one I’d been thinking about since we’d first sat down.

Em chose that moment to glance over at me, eyes somehow bluer behind the lens of his glasses. I swallowed and all but shoved the phone towards him. 

He frowned but took it, unable not to, and I watched on in silence as he read it through, then read it though again. His fingers began tapping away on his knee the third time around. 

When he looked back up at me, I was surprised by the sudden change his face held, the way his expression had literally lit up. “The fuck you been holdin’ out on me for?” He practically demanded, voice having kicked up a pitch in his eager haste to try and work this into the mix. 

I was left blinking back at him, watching as he scribbled a plethora of words and letters onto the page we’d been working on, using arrows and lines to showcase his thinking, how he wanted the song to move. To flow. 

I barely had a second to think before he had his own phone out and was dialling away. My eyes widened when the Master of Mixology himself picked up. 

“What do you want, Marshall?”

Any other time I would have cackled at the sheer amount of resignation that greeting held, but it seemed as though I was suddenly tongue tied.

“Why you always think I’m doin’ stupid shit?” Marshall shot back at the man, though from where I was sat I could see the slight curve to his lip. 

“‘Cause I know you? And you usually are.” Dre answered, blunt and to the point. Very much how I’d pictured him. “So why d’you stop to fuck up my afternoon?”

“It’s afternoon already?” Marshall asked, brow furrowing as he shared a look with me.

“Two pm.” Dre told him with a sigh.

“Shit.” Marshall muttered under his breath, gesturing to me with a hand and an almost pleading look, “Set an alarm for when Z gets in, please?”

“Be easier if you did it, Em. Seeing as I’m in New York and you’re in Detroit.” Dre answered, which earned him a scoff from Marshall. 

“Not you.” He told the older man, but I was already on it, swiping out of my notes app so that I could do exactly that.

“The fuck?”

Marshall’s mouth twitched at the disgruntled retort, “With Elia right now, man. We’ve been workin’ on some new shit.”

“El–ee–ah!” Dre called back, really getting into the pronunciation of it. I chuckled softly. “How are you? Is Marshall takin’ good care of you? No troubles, right?”

Grinning, I leaned in closer to Em to be heard. “He’s been a real gent. Holding open doors and basically waiting on me hand and foot.” I teased, earning a side eye from the man himself, “If anything you should be asking him if he’s holding up okay.”

“She got you wrapped round that finger quick!” Dre gruffed out a laugh, the sound loud and joyous even through the phone’s tinny speakers, “It’s what I like to hear.” He added as his laughter ebbed, “Glad things are working out between you both– what’s this about the album then? We got something special?”

Marshall’s tongue darted out over his lip as his eyes flickered over to find me, “I think we hit the jackpot with this one, man. Can already picture it, Dre, like honestly. Shit she’s pulled out has got me feelin’ all nostalgic– it’s good. Too good. Reminds me of some of the stuff they were spittin’ way back before I came around.”

My eyebrows rose a little at his explanation, but I didn’t dare add on or contradict his words. Not that I would, seeing as he was practically spot on with the analysis. 

“No shit?” Dre sounded surprised, but I took it in stride when Em shuffled forward on the couch in his haste to read out some of the stuff we had jotted down, as well as the few lyrics I’d just handed him. 

The man on the other end of the call hummed in thought when Marshall finally wrapped up his whirlwind of a reply, letting the silence linger between us until I was chewing on the insides of my cheeks once more.

“I’ll Facetime you later once you’ve worked on it some more.” Dre eventually said, halting the tic of Em’s knee, a gesture I only took note of once it had stopped. “It’s promising though. Real promising. Figure we got something here with the pair of you.”

The look Marshall shot me at that had my mind turning to sludge.

–

Alarms always had me spooked, the sound so abrupt and alert that even though I was expecting it, I was never truly expecting it. You know?

Marshall and I had continued to work away, floating ideas back and forth with Dre and then without him once the man eventually got called away. It was slow going, but like Dre himself had said, oh so promising.

Never had I felt so listened to during a writing session. Marshall never failed to give me his full attention even when he was scrawling away or counting a tempo, it was as though he was able to just hone in on every notion I brought up, building on it as he nodded away and pointed to the places he figured we could add it in or just blend.

So by the time that alarm finally rang out, it was safe to say we were making a hell of a lot of progress. So much so that Marshall looked torn once we’d both jumped out of our skin at the sound and I’d hurried to silence it. 

His hands fluttered through the many pages we had, as well as my songbook, mouth thinned as his brows dipped together. Rosie would be home in a matter of minutes but he was still spinning with ideas.

I, on the other hand, was all too ready to take a break, head starting to feel heavy with the sheer amount of words it had taken in today. Marshall was a fucking living and breathing thesaurus.

“I can go hang out with her for a bit if you wanna keep on working.” I offered after I’d checked my phone for any recent notifications, noting that the only message I’d received was from Mila. An apology of sorts, letting me know that she’d be willing to wait for me to reach out again.

Em’s frown was palpable. He shook his head, “Can’t ask you to do that.”

I let go of an amused huff, “Good thing you didn’t ask then, I offered.”

His forehead furrowed further whilst he continued to collect the many sheets, I passed him the one I’d been gatekeeping. “Still.” He tried to push, but I just shrugged the word away.

“I could use the break,” I mentioned, reaching for the few empty bottles we’d settled on the floor around our feet, “Might even get a headstart on dinner if you guys aren’t going out.”

Marshall looked a little perplexed at that, “Goin’ out?”

I shrugged again, but smiled when he handed me his latest bottle, piling it into the bin alongside the rest so that I could take it back up the stairs with me. “I don’t know what plans you have!” I laughed lightly.

He ended up rolling his eyes at that, “If I did they’d include you, idiot. Wasn’t plannin’ on goin’ out though.” He retorted, before pausing and glancing over to me, “Why, did you want to?”

Honestly, he was hard work. I could only huff out another round of chuckles as I shook my head at him, “No, you’re all good. Like I said, I could get started on dinner.”

The expression he pulled then looked almost strained, as though he wasn’t used to being offered help, much less willing to accept it. But I could tell that he wanted to. He was on a roll here and it was obvious that he was desperate to keep ahold of that inspiration for as long as it would last.

I stopped with what I was doing to step closer again, hoping to reassure him somewhat. “I wouldn’t offer, if I minded.” I told him gently, “Just pray that I don’t poison the lot of us or burn the house down if I do start cooking though.”

He laughed a little at that, face softening at my words. It still took him another minute or so to finally agree, dipping his head ever so slightly in the most minute version of a nod, “You’ll call out if you need me?”

I raised a brow, “What, into your soundproof studio?”

He breathed out another chuckle, tongue pushing against his teeth as his hands fell limply between his knees, papers shuffling ever so. “Call me, call me. Or just use the intercom.”

“Yeah, not happening.” I quickly quipped, eyeing the so called intercom with obvious distaste, “I’ll call. I don’t know the first thing about how to work that.”

Marshall’s smug smirk was evident when I glanced back over at him, enough so that I could only flip him off as I moved to leave the room, muttering under my breath about being too kind to idiots, something that only proved to humour him further. 

“‘Preciate it!” He called out just before the door could close behind me. 

It had me smiling all the same.

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 4

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language, fluff, angst. some suggestive language at the end. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.0k

a/n: RAAAAAA it’s getting real lmao

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

Sitting towards the back of the room, you take note of the messy black hair and all black clothes. You walk over to him with a smile on your face. “Megumi?” you question.

The boy looks up from his notes and meets your eyes. “Oh, hey, Yuji’s friend. I didn’t know you were in this class,” he says, gesturing at the seat next to him and inviting you to sit.

“I could say the same to you,” you respond, setting down your backpack and getting settled next to him. You have never been this close to Megumi before, and notice his very subtle cologne that leaves a warm and almost smokey scent hanging in the air around him.

“I’m a biology major, so it kinda makes sense I’d have to be here,” he says, turning back towards his notes. You notice a small smirk forming on one side of his mouth as he does so.

As soon as you open your mouth to reply, your professor waltzes in at the front of the lecture hall, her heels softly clacking against the wood floor and the room falls quiet except for her voice. You and Megumi sit in silence for the rest of the class as you furiously scribble in your notes, trying to keep up with what Dr. Ieiri is lecturing on. Halfway into the class you glance over at Megumi’s notes and see he’s just…doodling? His page is full of drawings, from dogs to birds and frogs, covering the lined paper in front of him. He notices you staring and glances up at you out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the paper. His drawing style suddenly shifts as he sketches a new shape. You watch him, mesmerized, as you realize he’s drawing…you?

Dr. Ieiri seems to end abruptly as she dismisses everyone, but you stay seated, waiting for Megumi to finish up his work. He tears the page out of his notebook and hands it to you without a word before putting everything on his desk into his backpack. You begin to pack up, unsure of what to say. After all, nobody has ever drawn you before - are you supposed to thank him? Should you give it back? In a panic, you stutter, “U-um, I’m going to go study at the library, if you want to come with me?”

Megumi glances up at you and softly responds, “Sure,” before tossing his backpack over his shoulder.

–

The two of you find a quiet table in the back corner of the library, dimly lit from the overhead lights and warm afternoon sun pooling in from a nearby window. You get started on your work quietly until Megumi clears his throat. “So, you never answered why you’re in Dr. Ieiri’s class,” he invites.

“Well, I’m an engineering major, but I’m still not sure what kind I want to be yet, so I have to take all these classes that are supposed to help me figure it out, and biology is one of them,” you explain. Megumi nods in response, before you continue, “I know I like to work with my hands, but I also like to think about problems before I have to solve them, which makes it hard to decide on a path. I know I don’t like computers, but I do love math. And I really didn’t expect to like Dr. Ieiri’s class as much as I do, so now I’m not sure,” you trail off. You pause for a moment, hoping you weren’t rambling. “You said you’re a bio major, right? Why’d you choose that? Also, I didn’t see you in her class last week, but we had definitely already met at Yuji’s, and you weren’t really paying attention today-” you stop yourself, realizing you were definitely rambling this time.

Megumi looks down. “Yeah I’m um…I’m actually retaking this class, so I kind of know it already.” You wait for him to continue. “Last fall my sister got really sick. Well, she got more sick, I guess. I had to take some time off to take care of her, so I ended up failing Dr. Ieiri’s class the first time I took it. I was gone last week because my sister was supposed to have this really big surgery and I wanted to be there for her, but they ended up postponing it, so I just stayed at the hospital with her for the rest of the week. She’s actually the reason I’m a bio major - I want to be a doctor so I can help people like her. It’s not fair what happened, and I want to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.” He stops, realizing his hands had formed into fists as he was talking. His body relaxes and he shrugs, trying to ease some of the weight from the information he had just shared with you.

“I think it’s really sweet that you care about your sister so much,” you say. “It sounds like she is really important to you.” Megumi nods, still not looking up from the table. Unsure what else to say, you reach a hand out to touch his shoulder, hoping it provides some comfort. He leans into your touch, resting his cheek on the top of your hand. The feeling of his hair brushing against your arm gives you the ever-familiar butterflies and you try not to visibly blush. The two of you stay like that for a moment, comfortable in the silence, before you hear your phone buzz in your pocket. Megumi lifts his head up so you can use your hand to answer it, and he slowly gets back to work as you pull your phone out and look at it.

Incoming call: “YuYu”

You smile at the nickname he put in your phone for you when he first gave you his number back in highschool. You answer it and hold the phone up to your ear.

“Hey! Sorry I keep calling you randomly, but I have a bit of an emergency. But, this time it’s a good emergency, I promise. Remember that date I was supposed to have tonight? Turns out she can’t go anymore, but I already have a reservation at this new sushi place I have been dying to try, and I knowwwww you love sushi,” he says, and you can practically hear his smile through the phone. “I already know you’re going to say yes, so I’ll meet you at your place at 6:00 and we can walk over together. Oh, and it’s kind of fancy but not too fancy, but don’t worry about it too much! Okay great, I’ll see you then!” he finishes before hanging up.

You didn’t even get a word in for that entire conversation, but it looks like you now have plans tonight. Glancing at your now unlocked phone screen, you realize it’s already almost 5:00. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m sorry Megumi, but I have to go,” you say, turning your attention back to the boy across from you.

“No worries,” he says with a soft smile. “This was really nice, we should study again sometime. Here, let me give you my number.” He holds his hand out for your phone and you give it to him, watching him put in his contact information before handing it back to you. You collect your study materials and wave at him as you walk out of the library.

–

When you arrive at the restaurant, you are shocked by Yuji’s definition of “kind of fancy.” The place is absolutely gorgeous, with natural wood and stone forming high ceilings, small fountains and mini waterfalls creating a soothing ambiance as the water collects in a river that winds throughout the restaurant. You walk over small bridges that decorate the interior to reach your table, surrounded by plants that provide some natural privacy. You felt slightly out of place despite wearing your nicest dress and heels, especially compared to Yuji in his black slacks and sport coat. You have to admit, though, the boy does clean up nicely.

Without getting a chance to even look at the menu, Yuji orders for both of you when the server returns. You gently smack his arm from across the table. “Hey, why did you do that? How could you assume what I wanted?” you ask playfully.

“I told you, I know you,” he shrugs. “Besides, dinner is on me since I dragged you out here last-minute. There’s some stuff I’ve been wanting to try ever since this place opened, and I got some things you’ll like, too,” he explains through a toothy grin.

“How generous, getting me things I’ll actually like,” you smirk, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of ‘dragging me here,’ what happened with your date?” you ask, trying to hide any remnants of jealousy.

“Oh, she just had something come up with a friend, but we rescheduled for next week. Plus, after the last practice date kind of went to shit, I figured it would be nice to actually get used to this place before the real-deal,” he says nonchalantly.

For some reason, his words sting more than you expect. Referring to this girl as the real-deal means that he must think you’re less than her, less deserving of his time or energy or-

Your thoughts cut off as an enormous pile of food gets set down on your table. There seems to be everything from nigiri to sashimi and tempura, all of it looking mouth-wateringly good. Yuji thanks the server and immediately starts digging in. Your stomach growls involuntarily and you’re forced to push your thoughts aside as you take a bite.

“Oh, my god,” you practically groan through the rice. “This is insane.”

“Right?” Yuji agrees, his cheeks puffed out from being so full of food.

The two of you eat in silence, savoring the combination of flavors in front of you, until Yuji pulls his phone out of his pocket. He smiles down at it and starts typing a message, and you can almost feel your blood boil. In an attempt to defuse your emotions you glance down at your phone, which unlocks to the recent contact page with Megumi’s information open on it. What the hell you think, typing out a message to send to him.

You: “hey Megumi, thanks for hanging out today, it was really nice”

Your phone buzzes almost immediately.

Megumi: “If this is who I think it is, I agree. Are you free tomorrow? There’s a new cafe off campus that’s really cozy, and I have some exams next week I need to study for. I’d love to see you”

The message makes you feel warm inside - he would love to see you? Of course you have to say yes.

You: “i’m free, how’s 11:00 sound? meet at your place?”

He ‘love’ reacts your message, which you take as affirmation of your plans. You put your phone back into your purse and look back up to see Yuji still smiling down at his phone. “Hey, it’s rude to be on your phone at the table,” you tease, but it comes out more irritated than you intended.

“Sorry, Nobara just said something funny and-” he cuts off, looking up at you realizing he had never told you the name of the girl he actually had feelings for, even though you already knew from seeing her name on his phone this morning.

“Oh, so is this ‘Nobara’ the one you were supposed to take out tonight?” you ask slyly. Yuji just nods blankly, trying to read your facial expressions. “Well, she must be quite special then,” you respond, desperately attempting to shove down any lingering jealousy as you maintain eye contact. “I actually have a date tomorrow, too,” you continue, not looking away from him. He cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to continue and taking another huge bite from the dwindling pile of food between you. “Speaking of which, I actually was hoping to get some practice too…” you trail off. “I want to suck your cock.”

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

[cruyuu]

I am actually frothing at the mouth over the idea of the SukuIta Winter Waltz Art getting animated….. perhaps even getting integrated into the story itself, like during their date in Yuuji’s domain expansion……. Maybe it’ll happen right near the end, and we’ll see Sukuna’s little scowl slowly vanish as he watches Yuuji laugh in delight, his face soften in quiet fondness……. Maybe we’ll even hear Sukuna’s secret inner monologue, the only moment where he’s 1000% honest with himself, a quiet little “this abominable righteousness… a refuge of the soul” in the deepest depths of his mind while he gazes at Yuuji’s smiling face in an admission he would otherwise never even dare voice to himself…. Before remembering himself a moment later and tossing Yuuji aside, beyond furious with himself for his “””loathsome””” little /feelings/, and then going on his “I understand but this made me feel nothing” rant of denial that he does right before Yuuji threatens him to free Megumi…. I feel like it’d be such a good way to explain just WHY Yuuji was so convinced that Sukuna wasn’t completely evil at the very end of the battle, why Sukuna too was capable of love……

And considering that Gege couldn’t write the story 10000% the way they wished because of stress and health issues, it makes me wonder if they would instruct Mappa to include more SukuIta scenes in the anime, the kinds of scenes that they themselves perhaps wanted to add but couldn’t because of their limitations while working on the manga……

Hi anon!

I think if anything what you've listed up above truly does happen, then ig we all could collectively leave this Earth behind and transcend. I've been thinking about real form!Sukuna fighting Yuuji and the fact that we'll see that animated a lot lately and it has kept me going and will keep me going forever. I just can't wait to witness all that glory on my TV screen and cherish every single frame, every motion and expression. It'll be glorious, I just know it.

As for whether or not Sukuna's "redemption" deserves to be explained in big fashion– I truly think it doesn't. There's enough clues to put together to know that he did change (besides, he said it himself) and frankly, both he and Yuuji are pretty obvious. With what we have now, the entirety of jjk can now be recontextualized considering that Yuuji felt the need to insist Sukuna comes back to him and also to promise his forever to him. Yeah, I don't think I need to say anything more at this point lol

I do wish Gege a happy year tho and hope that they're alright and that if they were dissatisfied with anything that they wrote, that they have the choice to correct it and that the result comes out in anime format (if they so wish). Hope they spoil us heavily again and drop more gorgeous art of these two too <3

[tiredassmage]

veilguard thoughts!

rook + solas parallels edition

spoilery ofc because my head's not full of cotton balls today and i haven't stopped chewing on it all since i finished the game! so! this is a little endgame heavy; you've been warned for what's below the cut <3

the final first playthrough counter has come in just over 67 hours and i am all but physically holding myself back from launching right into another one with another rook because i had a blast. i'll concede it was a bit heavy on the exposition in the first several hours, but what followed has certainly won my heart, and i think the game is visually beautiful.

but i'm not even looking to do a full review here, but i think one of the most fascinating things this game did was set up rook and solas. so, two parts of preface then: one, i was a little determined to love this game and hoped it would at least perform decent. that's my spite about it, lol, but that's not the point, so we're not here about that. two, one of my admitted concerns when they had first announced this game having its own protagonist was... that i wasn't sure there was another person to finish solas's story other than the inquisitor, and this isn't a solavellan thing for me, though my beloved canon inquisitor is a lavellan. solas's friendship wasn't the biggest hitch in inquisition for me, but it was important to my inquisitor. he wanted to prove his friend wrong.

i don't believe hallaren had a plan at the time for how to achieve that. he wasn't sure it was actually possible to convince solas the dalish were not as lost a cause as he seemed to believe, but he had to try.

and when i started veilguard, i wouldn't say i'd have anticipated the parallels of solas and rook, nor how well they ended up working for me. i admit: they got me. i didn't see that twist coming. and the hindsight of losing varric from the beginning makes a lot hurt (i say that as a compliment). i think it's easy enough to explain why i didn't see it, why (my, at least) rook didn't puzzle it out, but i also readily admit i'm historically bad at seeing these kinds of things, so you're free to be amused on your own time, lol.

anyway. regret. not becoming what you hate, what you claim to fight against. not being beholden to what you were or what you've lost. the game hits these beats several times, and i think its a real beautiful repeating thing they've done if you hammer all the companion's stories with the main deal, and i did the memories of the dread wolf as well. rook and the inquisitor have a conversation about it that about touches on all of it way more eloquently than i could summarize.

and, of course, part of the reveal is solas did dabble with blood magic on the matter of varric's death, did set rook up for the level of regret and grief they must settle with to trap them in the fade - a prison fit for gods, a prison fit for a god's regrets.

and this is where i transition into blorbo-specific thoughts. because i think part of what fascinates and delights me so much about the rook and solas, potentially two sides of the same coin deal is how tyr's relationship with solas starts and then develops.

tyr does not trust solas from the outset. which i think is where a very interesting presentation of similar (at their roots) choices begins, as varric says: in a bar, as all good stories. one of the first story notifications we get is how rook chooses to handle the bar owner: charm your way out, or a more direct approach, and we're told varric takes note of this.

varric's own plan is an appeal to solas's nature. to talk his way out. as is varric's way.

normally, i'd call tyr the kind of character (having played with him as an oc in various medias for oh... going on 2 years, is it? maybe 3? time's fake, different post) to also prefer talking his way out. but he doesn't believe solas will listen. so he rebukes varric's plan of just waltzing up and charming him with his babygirl eyes.

then at d'meta's crossing, he spares the mayor. not because he doesn't hear the concern that the greedy bastard will fall to said greed again, and not out of an entirely conscious mandate for live with the consequences of your actions, but... in hindsight with other choices, i'd argue it's... from at least a little of that kind of place.

he tries and fails to reason with the first warden. several times. in the heat of weisshaupt, and with the recent conversation with solas about whatever it takes on his mind, he ends up decking the man. the stakes are too high for risking the first warden staying on his high horse again if another attempt at reason fails, is the driver of the decision.

i'd chewed for a while on how that would seem to make tyr's commitment to "talking things through" indicated by that first choice in the bar inconsistent. it all seems justifiable at the time, and he didn't get to the place with the first warden he was out of intentional malice, but he still wound up there.

much of that is natural by the circumstances he was presented. by making calls with the information and under the conditions that were present at the time, as anyone, not just rook, would have to do under such circumstances, if they traded places. sure, some of it is also by solas's engineering of his conversations with rook. by setting them up to be a leader asked to make those hard calls. maybe even for arguably goading them a bit into a situation where whatever it takes was their only feasible option. which neve has a great comment on:

this is, i think, most directly about varric's death, but also, personally, i have to say is applicable for solas's intervention during blood of arlathan.

so, back to blorbo for a moment. tyr begins from a place that mistrusts solas's motives. the I'm quoting you here, "lies, treachery, and rebellion" kind of mistrust. and then, as things progress, as the team unveils more about solas's past in the crossroads and through the murals, it circles back to what I think motivated much of his comment to varric that talking with solas wouldn't work: that even if solas has any regret for what's happened, he's too stubborn to concede, too trapped by the mistakes of that past to ever admit fault, to hear himself sound like the 'gods' he claims to despise. tyr continues to take solas's advice into consideration the whole time, true, because it's... hard to discount the only potentially close to the problem kind of advice and knowledge they don't... exactly otherwise have themselves. he's not sure what the other shoe dropping in that equation is going to look like, but he's more convinced it'll happen than he is entirely happy with the situation.

the murals create... a hunch. or develop it. that rather than just being too prideful about the harm he'll cause by tearing down the veil, that solas is trapped in this plan by his regrets and guilt for actions of the past. at that point, tyr... has a better understanding about how they got to this point, but it kind of only solidifies his reservations that solas might actually be reasoned with.

the one moment this is changed, then, is during blood of arlathan. because frankly i think that was one of the worst experiences tyr has in the entire game. elgar'nan's influence in their minds, and an incident where they're trapped with no conceivable way out and potentially facing down an archdemon again, not so long after weisshaupt that the losses have stopped aching.

whatever his reasons or motivations and whatever else happens, solas saves their lives. tyr can't find a way around that one, and he's not even certain he wants to. because it's one of the definitive moments where he didn't have a plan, and he was terrified the tables had finally turned against them, and they'd fail.

it's not... trust. but tyr's also spent all this time working with his team on this concept that change shouldn't exactly be beyond anyone if there's a little effort put in. and whatever his own feelings are, varric wanted to believe in his old friend, and so does the inquisitor - both people he respects greatly, and he's constantly calculating their desire for a better outcome into the rubix cube that is trying to figure out how to stop the gods.

the problem then, is that solas all but instantly takes advantage of this... lapse. this faint relaxation of tyr's guard against his manipulations. that whole little incident with the fade after ghilan'nain's fall is all but immediately after, and its a betrayal nearly thrice or so over in rapid succession: that varric's been dead this whole time, that solas has manipulated him and how he feels responsibility for the team and the regrets that arise out of having to make hard choices, especially in times like these, and then on the other side of the fade, that solas has gone to minrathous, solas is playing "hero" about it all in tyr's and the shadow dragons' backyard. and to add salt to the wound, in minrathous, it's been blood magic all along.

and, y'know. solas says sorry, says he won't tear down the veil by his own hand, but hands rook the weapon to do it for him. sets them up again. so maybe that's more like... four or five times, depending on your count and categorization of it all.

and rook has a choice about all of this to make, a certain level of peace they have to make with it all to even get out of the fade. and how much to follow varric's advice about don't become what you hate - what you were fighting all along, or trapped by what you lost.

here's tyr's opinion that solas has more than likely been beyond reason because he's too far gone on his own path to even see that he's done exactly that: that he talks like elgar'nan's control, he's just dressing it up in a different way. that he's trapped by what he's lost and sacrificed and admitting that will be too much.

and here's tyr's inescapable bitterness of having been betrayed, of having spent so long trying to be careful with the god of trickery only to have danced right to his tune the whole time. a fiery emotional response for a threat to his home, to minrathous that he's tried very hard to protect and leave a smidgen better than he found it in this whole fight.

by circumstance... and by a little of solas's own design then, rook and solas confront the same trouble of what sacrifice being a leader demands. what cost is too high? how much is too much?

i had the pieces at that point for the ending with mythal, but now i had tyr bitter and a bit more resentful about solas - in a kind of pain about betrayal that was still asking why? about it rather than worried about if regret was present or meaningful. which is where this came from in my head akdfnas;dfnsadf

you're both thinking it. and the endings directly focus on whether or not solas succeeds in tearing down the veil, but the thematic part of it, to me, was... do rook and solas recognize where they might be held back? does tyr act on the pain and resentment of betrayal and swing blindly at solas as repayment? or is it bigger than both of them? is it about posing the question to solas about regret? how much is it like what drove solas to this point to act on that resentment? is it just retaliation? or did either of them learn anything from that prison in the fade?

and that's what makes the parallel, and it's what sets them apart.

and that's how, still, in the end, i have tyr who is willing to choose trying to reason one last time. for the sake of the advice of an old friend. for the people that brought them this far, the ones who chose to believe against the odds. and maybe, even, a little bit for himself. a choice against letting regret and resentment rule.

for the sake of it and because i couldn't get this game out of my head, i checked out the other endings, just to see, and i... think i like sticking with convincing him the best for both of them.

the trick with the dagger swap i think is the only other fitting course of action tyr might've taken from that point, and i think some of its elements reflect similar beats here about... learning from the past, if you will.

the accusation of likeness to the gods is still there. the banter about wits. i am a fool who finally met his match. one might argue that's for underestimating rook, which... fair enough, but i think... it also falls in line with solas's regrets, the appeal to be made to his nature, the... want, in the end, to be proven wrong. to find a 'better' way, as once he suggested to the inquisitor, and as mythal's release from debt and rook and the inquisitor's forgiveness, if you will, finally allows.

and that is... very satisfying to have said between them, when it's been on tyr's mind the whole time. and... they can both be proven wrong this way: for tyr, that solas wasn't beyond listening, and for solas, that there was another way.

for both of them that they could move on from what these trials have made of them, what they have done, and what they endured.

and man... man that was good. and so, so satisfying. it worked, veilguard. you sold me on these two as parallels to each other.

and that's just... one of many things in this game that gave me a lot of emotions, but this has already been. a helluva ramble, so if you've made it this far, congratulations and i salute you, lol.

i'm sure i'll do it all over again and have even more thoughts about even more rooks to throw around and chew on with this and what it'll reflect about each of them and that's. MMM. that's delicious. i loved this game. if my brain and time cooperates, i'm sure i'll have more thoughts and maybe even some writings for it in the future, we'll see where the blorbos take me. xD

[beevean]

I still can't get over Alucard leading Robespierre's army. That's straight out of a stereotypical fanboy fanfic about how awesome my favorite character is.

If they ever do the Sorrow games, they'd better have flashbacks with Alucard liberating prisoners from Nazi concentration camps, killing Osama Bin Laden and helping to destroy the Berlin Wall

Annette: This is the cost. This is the way we let change in. Alucard: Through the widow's window. Richter: Don't tell me you're a Royalist too. Alucard: I'm a realist. But I'm also very old. I'm not saying that when you live for centuries you stop caring, but enough rebellions and upheavals, and you notice the patterns. They start with hope and end with bloodshed. Or they start with bloodshed and end with bloodshed.

Alucard in S2E3: eh idrc much about revolutions. i'm so unfathomably ancient, i've seen them all, and i think they're dumb.

Robespierre: Reason and the public interest began the revolution. Intrigue and ambition have halted it. The majority desires the good, but it neither knows the means to reach this goal, nor the obstacles that distance them from it. All the enemies of the Constitution borrow the name and language of patriotism to spread error, discord, and false principles. It is thus that public opinion is... *Alucard waltzes in, everyone orgasms on the spot* ... excited. Alucard: Sorry to interrupt your riveting speech, Monsieur Robespierre, but quite soon, this city is going to be attacked by an army of vampires. Vampires and demons, actually. I can help you prepare to fight.

Alucard in S2E5, needing someone to stroke his dick ASAP: hi mr. actual historical figure Maximiliene De Robespierre, do you perchance need my (absolutely invaluable) help, as a (lowly human) revolutionary? don't mind the fact that I'm half-vampire, a noble, and clearly not French, I'm just hijacking this real historical event for the sake of the cool finale where I need to look cool :)

bitch doesn't give a shit about the revolution. he even mockingly quotes "vive la revolution". he just enlisted a HUMAN ARMY to fight against an EGYPTIAN INVINCIBLE GODDESS. and they don't do shit! Sun Thundercat slaughters them because cannonballs don't scratch her! He lead these innocent people to their deaths for a cause that wasn't even theirs! Just so that he can look badass and charismatic and like he actually did something in the story!

I fucking hate this cunt it's unreal 😭

[amadeusgame]

December Devlog: A Year of Progress

After launching the updated, feature-complete demo last month, I promised that by the end of 2024 I would have an updated timeline of expectations for the full release of Amadeus: A Riddle for Thee ~ Episode 1 ~ Waltz. I feel this is especially important given how many times I pushed back the launch date this year.

I think I now understand why that happened.

TL;DR:

Part 1 - On Episode 1's Timeline

Episode 1's timeline was repeatedly pushed back because I realized making the game good mattered more to me than meeting an arbitrary deadline.

The full episode will release in 2025.

A date will not be announced until the game is nearly finished.

Part 2 - Looking Back at 2024

A list of milestones between the original February demo release and the recent feature-complete update.

Read on if you'd like a lot more words on what this year has been like, and where things are at right now.

Steam | itch.io | More Links

On Episode 1's Timeline

Amadeus began development when I was in grad school studying music composition. I was in an environment where deadlines were external and they were tight, and I learned the incredibly difficult skill of "how to scope properly to actually finish things." This skill is invaluable and the very first public demo for Amadeus (the web-based one with no ink or color assets) was a product of those priorities: it was finished on a really ambitious timeline, and certain corners were cut to just get something out there on time.

One of those cut corners was definitely the narrative. I hadn't actually figured out where I was going with the story. Even in the version from February that was released on itch and Steam, I only had a vague idea of what the full story was; it was not until just last month that I had released a game accurately representing the introduction to a fully planned-out, 5-part story.

This past year, I slowly shifted priorities away from the grad school #grindset and back towards making a work of art that I am really happy with. I could have chosen to stick with my fall 2024 release date just to get something out there. If I had, the narrative would be less coherent, it would lack several gameplay features, and it wouldn't look or sound as good. It would exist, but it wouldn't be the game that it will be, now that I chose instead to take extra time and make a better game.

I do have a final release date in mind, and I am going to earnestly work towards meeting it. But I've finally learned my most important lesson from 2024: I won't announce the release date until I'm certain it will be met, until the game is finished save for pure nice-to-haves. I don't want to make any more promises that won't be kept.

I WILL make a promise that I'm certain I can keep: it's coming in 2025. If you play the updated demo I hope that you will feel confident in this too. The baseline of the game is finished and it's feeling really, really good.

So! Where are we now, a month after that demo update?

This month I've had to briefly shift focus to real life and getting a new job. My current job is part-time which has allowed me more time to focus on Amadeus, but I am not very passionate about the work itself which has ultimately caused me to burn out, both on the clock and off. It's resulted in me not being able to take advantage of my spare time because work stress was seeping into it. I am really hopeful that what I'll be moving to instead will be personally fulfilling, and still leave more time for Amadeus than a typical 40-hour 5-day work week.

While the lifestyle shift was my main priority, I still did a lot of project management work to get back into development for the final stretch. It's been a month of pulling my head out of the weeds on the now-finished demo and zooming back out to look at the full episode's remaining needs. I've read back through all of my brainstorming and planning materials, catalogued these materials for ease of future reference (which are in about 8 million different physical notebooks and digital files), and revised my outline to make sure it all makes sense with the narrative that's now finalized.

It's not the kind of month where I have lots of nice flashy things to show, but this work was definitely necessary for me to get in the right headspace to finish the rest of the project. And I did find the time to draw another background! Dartmaure now has a downtown plaza:

 December 2024 has been an important month to get me excited about the full scope of this project again and find a work-life situation that will let me stay motivated in the long term. That's vital, because Amadeus is turning into even more of a long-term commitment than I'd already known it would be.

Speaking of long-term... I want to take the remainder of this devlog to look back on the full year. I have been working on Amadeus for nearly 2 years at this point, but this past year in particular has been kind of insane.

At the start of 2024, I thought that by the end of it I would have released Episode 1, which didn't happen. I had also thought that the final episode would look and play almost exactly like the first demo, just with some additional scenes; this isn't what happened, either.

As it turns out, the game I would end up building has so much more polish and depth to it. It would even get exhibited at MAGWest's Indies showcase! I genuinely think the game I am making exceeds all of my own prior expectations of what a game I would create all on my own could be.

(I mean, let's be clear: it's still a janky no-budget solo indie passion project by most standards. But it's so much more polished and has so much more depth to it, narratively and aesthetically, even mechanically, than I would have possibly imagined a year ago.)

It's really come together over the past year, a little bit at a time.

Looking Back at 2024

February 2024 - Original Demo Release

Launched the original version of the Episode 1 ~ Waltz demo on itch.io and Steam.

This version isn't playable on itch anymore, nor is it accurate to the narrative. You can opt into the old build on Steam if you are curious, as a matter of pure historical record.

March 2024 - 100 Wishlists on Steam

Perspective: this number is small for most developers, but it was a major milestone for me.

April 2024  - Wrote a Mystery Game

Took a month away from Amadeus to write a game for the Mystery Game Jam: Robot Detective and the Case of the Automurderated Intern.

The jam host described it as having an "Agatha Christie-like twist."

This collaboration let me focus purely on the craft of writing, which later helped me really improve Amadeus's story.

June 2024 - Steam Next Fest & Major Narrative Benchmark

Participated in my first Steam Next Fest.

Very stressful and a great learning experience.

Finalized the game's full narrative and wrote 1st draft of the entire script.

July 2024 - Major Mechanics Benchmark

Coded & implemented a majority of needed key mechanics, including:

glossary menu

save & load

seamless audio looping

rich text support

visual feedback on mouseover

August 2024 - Getting There

Made an opening cinematic that plays in-game.

Redesigned menus and interactive screen UI.

Finished a new, convention-exclusive build for Amadeus.

September 2024 - MAGWest

My first ever tabling experience!

Received so much motivating, inspiring, and positive feedback on the game.

Gained confidence that the game is in a good place to be finished based on this foundation.

People loved the art and sound direction :)

November 2024 - Feature-Complete Demo

Released the current feature-complete demo update for Amadeus.

Demo build is based on the MAGWest build with additional features and a new scene.

Currently live! On itch and Steam.

For those of you that have been following the game since February, most of this isn't news; but it's still really motivating to look back and see how much was accomplished in a year. Thank you so much for following this project. Please look forward to the full release - I promise it will be so worth it!

Happy new year - and don't forget to bookmark linktr.ee/amadeusgame for all of your Amadeus-related needs. ;)

[lastlymatt]

Yeah tv!Alex is so different and honestly I think in a good way!

Book!Alex was always like, 'ugh I hate working for MI6, why do they keep dragging me in, I just want a normal life, I don't care that much about a random person in danger'.

Tv!Alex is like 'I don't care about skipping school to go save the world because I care that people are going to get hurt and the department is doing jack shit so I feel a responsibility to do the right thing'.

It's very different and I think TV!Alex has a lot more compassion and care in him and wants to help others and would sacrifice himself for the greater good. He is his father's son, and I think it makes a lot of sense that way, and I like how morally strong he is in the show, and a lot more mature.

Not that I dislike book!Alex, of course I love him, but he's definitely more of a 'kid', which while accurate to his age, I do like watching a more adult and mature Alex. (tbf though I haven't read the new books yet so idk if his characterization has changed)

I hope we do get a post-uni show with the same crew and we get to see Adult!Alex working for the department.

While you're absolutely right about how book!Alex is more of a 'kid' and very reluctant to go on whatever mission of the week, TV!Alex feels far more naive and innocent than his book counterpart despite being older.

Because book!Alex does come through when the threat is real. He wants to protect people and the world, just not when he's being blackmailed into it. He cares enough that he willingly puts himself in danger for a boy he barely knows in Ark Angel without anyone prompting him to.

A lot of the time, he saves people or goes after villains because he knows that MI6 is useless. They demonstrated that over and over again to him while TV!Alex hunts them down to get them to do something before being smacked in the face with the reality of the Department.

I will say he is absolutely more stubborn about going back to school and staying 'normal' than TV!Alex, but again, that is because MI6 keeps pulling him back.

TV!Alex gets blackmailed by Blunt once. A car doesn't show up in front of his house or school every other week, so he can be shipped all over the world to almost die for some goal he barely comprehends. He isn't forced into dangerous fabricated situations where he has to turn to MI6 for help in exchange for doing their dirty work.

TV!Alex instead goes through one harrowing experience and is then told to forget it ever happened. He isn't beaten down and almost murdered every other Tuesday, so of course, he has a stronger hold on his morals but he isn't the mature one here.

In fact, he seems incredibly naive when he thinks he can waltz into a criminal organisation, get his revenge on the Department, and go back home as if nothing happened.

Book!Alex tells Scorpia up front that he could never be a killer, but he still participates in all the lessons like he's told to and seems to have a better understanding of his situation despite not having both Nile and Yassen laying it out clearly for him.

I think book!Alex is also far more willing to join up with Scorpia because of how awful MI6 is to him compared to TV!Alex's Department. He also goes into his first conversation with Rothman, just wanting to know more about his father. Of course, the fourteen-year-old idiot would go with the people who are "honest" with him and treat him with more respect (and I say this as someone who cannot read anything where Alex stays with Scorpia)

TV!Alex goes in with the idea that he can somehow destroy Scorpia, but he gets manipulated from the moment he contacts them. He runs on the grief and need for revenge that Scorpia injects him with almost the entire time he's there.

They're both their fathers' sons, but their arcs are very different. One is very drawn out, and the other is cut short with a happy ending.

(This is very personal speculation, but I think that if the TV series had continued and Alex's family had been "killed" just like Jack in Scorpia Rising, then Alex would've also absolutely shot someone)

So yeah... very different characters with different arcs. The comparison gets a bit murkier because of the different mediums, but I hope I got my point across.

I'm very curious what they would do with an adult!Alex because they'd have to come up with completely new material for that, and it would remove one of the main aspects of Alex Rider that I enjoy, namely that he's a kid who shouldn't be there.

Personally, I just want an adaptation of Russian Roulette.

[mrhaitch]

Hello hello Mr.Haitch !! I hope the Haitch household is doing great ^^

So, recently one of my friend’s university is all over the news, because the granddaughter of an insanely popular actor enrolled at that university.

My friend isn’t particularly thrilled about it, because that university has a very difficult entrance exam, but the celebrity’s granddaughter got in without clearing that exam.

The university claims that she has a very impressive portfolio and doesn’t need to clear the exam. But we all know that’s just bs.

So far the university board hasn’t been very subtle about their open bias towards her. Even the staff.

What is your opinion on this? Do you think people coming from influential backgrounds shouldn’t be shown such blatant favoritism? Considering how hard some people tried to get accepted at that university and afford the tuition.

I've got mixed feelings about entrance exams, and assessments in general.

Permit me to dust off my 'education is a public good' Stetson for a moment.

Much better.

Okay - for me it's all down to what you're trying to measure and why. Is the point of the exam for students to gauge the extent of their understanding, for their teachers, for awarding bodies, for future employers? And if so why?

My employer doesn't care that I got top grades in my essays on existentialism and freedom, or that I completely fucked up my exam on the pre-socratics (I objected to a question).

Is it so the university can brag that x number of students achieved a high grade? Is it to assess the quality of the teaching? What if a class' impact is more personal and profound, rather than imparting particular skills that can be measured by conventional assessment?

I know the answer to all of these questions, mostly, but the answers are - to me - unsatisfying. Learning is a lifelong pursuit with milestones, absolutely, but no real defined end. Any end that might be imposed is artificial at best, dishonest at worst. The number of people I've seen waltz into complex, nuanced debates saying "well I studied X at level y" believing it makes them an expert. I also believe the value of education has absolutely nothing to do with employability or transferrable skills (I will hiss at anyone that uses that word near me). Society cannot function without an educated populace, especially its political systems. People can and should be as informed as possible at all times, through whatever methods and by whatever means are most effective for them.

This all applies to entrance exams: it strikes me that it's all about marketing and prestige. Universities want the best students so they can SAY they have the best students, in order to attract more.of the best students. The reasons why fall broadly under, like I said, prestige and marketing - but there's also financial incentives beyond recruitment. Students from affluent backgrounds are, on average, more successful academically - largely as a reflection of the ease with which they can access high quality schooling, tutoring, additional resources, and their parents are likely to be educated as well.

While it might seem like a meritocratic system (if you're smart enough you'll make the cut) but it's another form of elitism and classism, just sneaky and underhanded. Typically this is underlined by the manner of assessment, with a written examination being the standard. That's not to say it's impossible for someone outside of the upper crust to get through, just that the odds are slim. Slim by design.

Anywho.

If it were a perfectly meritocratic system I'd be more upset about people cheating the system, and processes being overridden by nepotism. Instead all they've done is reveal the whole thing is a sham.

For anyone interested in this topic I'd recommend checking out The Tyranny of Merit by Michael Sandel.

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

oooooh now im curious what your particular interpretation of the squip is 👀

you asked for it /lh

so i've basically always taken a liking to the "cold emotionless computer that cares only about results and not the suffering that must occur to get said results" approach. a squip's sole purpose is to improve its user's life, right? to have jeremy be horrified over the house fire and have the squip respond to people - teenagers - getting hurt with indifference is a chilling way to set off those alarm bells in jeremy's head that there's something more sinister going on. and then we get to the whole hivemind bit later under the idea that if everyone is squipped, everyone's goals line up with jeremy's and there are less hoops to jump through when human error is removed from the probability pool. (envisioning possible futures, infinite variables spawning infinite room for unfavorable outcomes, yadda yadda yadda.)

the squip presents this as being in jeremy's best interest. "I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy. If I have to take over the entire [student body/world] to do it." (whether the hivemind was a red herring and the plan was always for the squips to get deactivated is another discussion entirely, but it does further emphasize just how many variables the squip had to account for and how determined it was help and/or "help" jeremy.)

sure the squip "emotes" in canon, in so much that it mimics human emotion in order to connect with jeremy and build his trust in it. or in cases where it's being blatantly hurtful a la "everything about you sucks," it's used as an intimidation tactic to scare jeremy into obedience because it brings this air of "wow, it's a scientific fact that i'm awful" and so he wants to listen to its advice and earn its approval. then the squip turns it around halfway through bmc part 2 by praising what jeremy could be when not five seconds earlier it was berating what he was. no emotion the squip is feeling is "real" so it can change them on a dime to suit however it's trying to manipulate jeremy at any given time.

i think they have a really interesting dynamic and i'd love to explore the manipulation and abuse tactics the squip uses on jeremy to wear him down and make him seek out its approval by doing as it says for hopes that he'll be better for it. (see also the quasi-love-bombing in bmc part 2 after the squip basically nitpicked and insulted him for a song and a half and later telling him how much he's improved just before the pitiful children)... and i want to emphasize this as an abusive dynamic between a teenager and a parental/mentor figure.

look no further than the squip calling jeremy "slugger" at the end of bmc part 2 and the script describing it as "very father/son after the ballgame," or hell, the very nature of a squip guiding you through life. it makes a lot of sense for jeremy to latch onto the first "functional adult" figure to waltz into his life and offer to help him because look at his dad. (this isn't shade. i love mr. heere because he reminds me so much of how my dad was when i was in middle-high school.) and the squip leans into this role the moment it sees mr. heere. "That's the source of your genetic material?" "That's my dad, yeah." "We should double those push-ups." it's implicitly saying "yeah your dad is shit, listen to me instead. i can actually help you."

now in case it somehow wasn't clear, i don't want anything to do with technical difficulties as anything even vaguely resembling a ship. but it would be a disservice to not mention that the way that the squip can take away jeremy's bodily autonomy on a whim and the kind of psychological damage that can do to jeremy does draw heavy comparisons to sexually abusive dynamics. (i can talk about how the squip's involvement in dywh completely exacerbated chloe's actions to be far worse than they would've otherwise been if she was just drunkenly bumbling around for four minutes - barring the discussion of whether or not the squip actually intended on letting chloe jump jer's bones or if it knew that she wouldn't actually get that far - until i'm blue in the face, and i have.) that being said, beyond this parallel, it's really not something i want to be super literal about, except in the one scene where it's about as literal as it gets without officially getting there.

which is why the "i'll tenderly guide you // just take me inside you" line works. yes it's creepy. yes it invokes an upsetting idea of where squipemy shippers got their fuel. but it's supposed to be unsettling. this is supposed to be the first real red flag shooting off in the audience's brain saying "hey i think this thing is the bad guy actually," because literally everyone got squicked out by the idea of fake keanu reeves saying this to a teenager.

"ya know for all this talk about the squip being manipulative and creepy, that kinda contradicts the emotionless computer trying to accomplish its goal and Improve Its User's Life thing. why would the squip go out of its way to be gross and mean when it could just present itself more logically, or not have halloween be a shitshow?" well that wouldn't be as fun to watch, for one thing. and for two things, it further emphasizes how it doesn't care who it has to hurt to get what it wants, even if that involves hurting the person that they're guiding.

let's look at the musical after the play. jeremy still has all his popular friends. michael came back for him so they're besties again. his dad is making efforts to actually Be A Dad after presumably years of sulking. and christine doesn't hate him after everything! (you could go as far as to say they even got together if you go off the bway ending.) things are ok.

and it's all because the show progressed exactly how it did.

jeremy had to block michael out so that he'd research into squips and ultimately end up deactivating them all. he had to date brooke in retaliation to jake dating christine so that chloe would want to kill two birds with one stone by getting back at jake and being petty to brooke in the process. the fire had to happen so that jeremy could question how trustworthy his squip really was. jeremy had to blow up at his dad so that he'd get his shit together, enlist michael's help, and have him save jeremy at the play. etc etc ad nauseam. everything had to go Exactly Perfect so that jeremy could come out of it with his old friend, his new friends, a more active dad, and depending on how you view the ending, the girl he'd been chasing after.

all the instances of the squip being manipulative and abusive are all meant to add up for jeremy to slowly realize that this wasn't who he wanted to be. he didn't want to hurt people. he didn't want to endure constant criticism and scorn for who he was. he wanted to like himself and have a support system that liked him too. and he had to go through a lot of shit to realize i shouldn't have to live like this and rebel against the squip and resist the voices in his head so that he could take the steps to actually liking himself for who he was and not for what the squip told him to be.

is this to say that the squip is actually good? NOPE! jer's squip is a textbook lawful evil character right there. maybe neutral evil at best.

you think the constant berating and shocking isn't going to stick with jeremy? voices in my head enforces that the bad voices don't just go away, but that you have know which ones to actually listen to. he's still gonna have "everything about you sucks" floating around in his head until the cows freeze over. like rich, he's going to wish that the "correct" choices could just be given to him instead of accepting that making mistakes is just part of having free will. it came free with your fucking xbox. there is still angst baked into the concept of once having someone smarter than you conditioning you into a certain persona and then being utterly lost when it's gone, even if they were a giant dick to you.

but for all the shitty things that the squip did... it did improve jeremy's life. it gave him a larger friend group, a more present dad, the self worth to say "fuck you, i'm gonna live my life how i want," and for the times when it wasn't nitpicking and abusing... things were good. it built jeremy up too. it encouraged him during agtikbi despite the jake suckerpunch, it acted paternal at the end of bmc part 2, it sounded damn near excited when presenting squipped christine to jeremy. look, here she is! she likes you! i told you you'd have her! sure, we don't really see enough of these nuances after the time jump between act one and two to gauge what things looked like when they were at their best, but you can still see in these small moments that they're there.

and while i'm as much a fan of jeremy being haunted by how much he hurt michael (and by extension how much everyone got hurt, indirectly or not), i'd like to see him be haunted by the good times too. to kinda miss aspects of the squip. to miss not having to think for himself. and to feel bad about it because how can he say he misses the thing that burnt jake's house down. the thing that isolated michael for weeks on end. that led brooke on. that caused so. much. suffering. and jeremy misses it??? i think it would be really fun to explore that not just with jeremy, but with rich as well. it's fun to shit on the squips for being evil bastards and watch rich and jeremy heal and become gleefully spiteful toward everything their squips told them to be, but i also wanna see all the contradicting thoughts and confusion and self-loathing it took for them to get to that point.

that. is a fic i wanna read.

[fishcemetery]

[<- entry 6.5] [ENTRY 7: MUMMY ISSUES] [entry 8 ->]

You might've noticed I don't treat my storytelling seriously at all. My gameplay is almost entirely preserved in instances of the game clowning out and finding new exciting ways to throw me off – therefore, I can afford to get crazy about something unrelated for a few weeks, and then waltz right in with another random goof report, because goof reports are pretty self-sufficient even without the previous entries. Convenient, isn't it?

This next one takes us back to Al Simhara, and the very first morning back is marked by a quest. THE quest.

First of all, "become torched, soaked and cursed (in that order)" is a phenomenal sequence of words. It's a shame I never get into any real spats on Tumblr, because I'd gladly wish it on an indecorous fucko or two.

Second of all, the mysterious quest giver of mystery decided to erase their name from the objective altogether, which isn't too surprising. They must realize that only a sick, twisted individual would dare subject others to a challenge like that, and it's bad for their image to accidentally out themself as someone who likes to drag people through torture courses.

Anyway, I'm in.

The Pyramid of the Burning Sands seems like a perfect place to start. The torching and soaking part goes splendidly (as much as it can), but when the time comes to get cursed, the record scratches abruptly.

I don't think Jo has sufficient skills to take down a mummy at this point, but her traits and good spirits must be coming into play. In other words, unfortunately, she's just too lucky. Not only does she reduce an ancient king to a pile of ashes...

...he now has the looks and consistency of something you'd pull out of a clogged kitchen sink. Honestly, he'd probably be better off getting teabagged like in any other PvP.

One royalty out of commission, I start thinking back to another active sarcophagus. Our next best bet is Queen Nosylla, who hangs out in the fanciest room of the Great Pyramid (see: the bottom). The last time we visited, Nosylla wiped the floor with Jo's merry ass in well under ten seconds, so I have high hopes for her.

Nosylla, however, has a grudge and the deviousness to match it.

She throws a piece of a dive well at Jo and refuses to engage any further. Dispirited, we comb through the other sarcophagi inside the pyramid, but if Nosylla can't (or won't) do it, nobody else in Egypt can.

I don't even bother to screenshot the rest of the fights. Jo barrels through every single one, leaving nothing but mummy dust in her wake. I keep her up all night, banking on the negative exhaustion moodlet to lower her chances at another victory, but Jo continues to stand undefeated, albeit a bit woozy.

Right then and there, when I'm finally beginning to give up and consider cheats, we're saved from our wild mummy chase by a well-timed crash. In the best Sims 3 traditions. It throws us far back to the start of the quest, which sounds utterly frustrating, but in practice means that Jo gets a second go at every mummy.

Not even a couple of sim hours later she gets thoroughly cursed in the Burning Sands. In the best Sims 3 traditions. King Kitchen Sink Residue VIII, likely terrified of the fate that befalls him in an alternate universe, gets a grip and pulls through for the entire mummy population of Al Simhara (with the exception of Queen Nosylla, who doesn't give a damn either way).

However, Jo's mummy issues don't end here. As it turns out, we'll soon be stuck with them for a long time. A very, very long time.

[shinygoku]

Rubber Soul (1965)

I've been looking forward to this one! It's arguably the point where the band shifts from Consistently Good to Consistently GREAT, and also where some point to as being their apex. While that may seem premature, given what will soon follow, there may be truth in these takes, and I know this album harbours absolutely amazing numbers. Interestingly, the US release actually modified the track listing to be Acoustic Only, which results in some people's preferred version, but I disagree as it means one of my Top Favs is cut (and it goes against the Band's Intent lol). I'm only covering the Original UK Canon for the albums, except for [spoilers lol] MMT and when I gather singles together.

The famous serendipitous distorted image! It's sure conveying A Mood, though I can't say it's a favourite of mine. But I can say that it's possibly the cover I've seen the most, as the music classroom at school had it on the wall among several other non-Beatles records, though I persistently misread the title as "Rubber Soup" instead due to the placement lmao

SIDE ONE

Drive My Car: A bodacious and unique opener here, their first song with a Female Protagonist (if via a Male POV character)! Now only that, but one with ambition and confidence, which really makes this song fun. Even as a Car Disliker, I'm fully on board with the high energy and witty lyrics, and there's something infectious about Beep Beep, M-Beep Beep YEAH! The new Red Album version makes the instruments clearer like the cowbell and tambourine, and it's such a strong first song for this collection~

Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown): The famous Sitar debut! This one's narrative gives it a bit of infamy too, as it seems to be another tale of misread signals, but this one with a somewhat shocking twist at the end! Still, the music is very good even with iffy implications lmao. I also dig the waltz timing and clever description of the scenery.

You Won't See Me: I sometimes get this confused with I'm Looking Through You, as they're both Paul songs with pretty much the same jist. However, I'd call this one the weaker of the two. That's not to say it's bad, but the pessimist vibe and the song seemingly losing energy as it progresses make it less of a bop than the sister song, to me at least.

Nowhere Man: I would like to tentatively claim this song as my Favourite of The Beatle's whole catalog. For one thing, it's their first Original that is NOT about love/sex/"dancing" lmao, which makes it more relatable on top of an already empathetic tale. Hmm... the songs John writes quickly after an art block are real easy to relate to for some reason! ^^;; - The Electric instruments meant the song was omitted from the US version of RS, as they were going for an acoustic only feel. Some people think that was a cool idea, but if it comes at the cost of Nowhere Man, I can't agree!! And of course, while the song is another one of John's autobiographical #mood tunes, the use of this in Yellow Submarine as Jeremy's leitmotif and that gorgeous, lovely animated sequence help this one stick in the noggin even more. I always look forward to hearing it~

But anyway, the music itself has SUCH a beautiful distinct feel to it too, the spoken word intro before the Twang of electric guitar kicks it off! The simple but steady driving bass and drums with beautiful little rolls periodically, the way the song repeats and goes back on itself~ I appreciate how the narrator does offer a little bit of reassurance, too... the Nowhere Man might be going in circles, but there's still hope and potential aid to be found...! Opportunity lies in front of you as long as you can find a path!

Think For Yourself: Here's George's moody number for the album! The buzzing bassy twangs offset by the jingle of what I presume is a tambourine, to match his disinterested lyrics about rejecting someone too keen on hearing his take on things. It's solid and distinct but we still have a ways to go before Peak George (at least, those are my own thoughts, dohoho).

The Word: Hmmm.... this kinda feels like a beta test for what would later become All You Need Is Love, albeit with a decidedly different backing music flavour. Unfortunately the lyrics aren't doing it for me, somehow it feels more repetitive and a bit droning, even though (like AYNIL) it's sending a positive message and psychedelic vibe.

Michelle: I love this one, it's so warm and quite sweet. I'm bad at French so the small amount sprinkled in here sounds convincing enough, I think he's saying something like "My Beauty" "[something something] Very Good Combination" and other such phrases. There's a curious atmosphere, like Paul's already kind of come to terms with the inevitable failure due to the language barrier, but he's indulging in a fun what-if daydream. The loud guitar twangs and gentle pace really sound lovely too~ (Note: Upon googletranslating the French I was a bit off lmao)

SIDE TWO

What Goes On: I want to like this song. I want to enjoy so bad, but I'm afraid I'm struggling to. The backing music is great, and the story being told is solid (if in a Beatles For Sale type scenario lol), but the title getting drawn out over and over kind of irk me. Maybe cause that's where the Harmonies get put instead in a better part of the song? I'm a certified Ringo enjoyer but this doesn't seem to be highlighting his strengths the way previous and future songs do.

Girl: I'm not into ASMR so the part where John goes right up to the mic to suck in air doesn't please me at all! XD;; The rest is fine, I like the gentle guitar rhythm, and the lyrics are clever, but when I keep cringing away from the speakers, it does rather affect my enjoyment of a song.

I'm Looking Through You: Hey, it's the sister song to You Won't See Me! I think this one is a bit stronger. I'm also inclined to wonder if Paul's recurring vagueblogging in song form about his dissatisfaction about his relationship to Jane Asher raised any red flags? I mean damn, twice in one album?! And again in the next one? Still, this one has groovy backing tunes and memorable lines, which YWSM lacked to me.

In My Life: This is another favourite for me! And yet again John's autobiographical lean makes a banger lol. This one is ambiguously framed, it's easy enough to see as Romantic but with how much the past people alluded to, I feel like it makes a better memorial song than the many Lover type numbers they've done. And of course, I must remark on the sped up piano/harpsichord(?) bridge/middle eight (???), as that really gives this already more unique song another serving of special sauce~

Wait: This has suuuuch a great backing instrumental, and the vocals and lyrics ain't bad either~ This feels like (yet) another case where a perfectly good, solid song got overshadowed by the competition, and if it were a non-Beatles release it may've topped charts...! Not to say it's the best of the album or even a favourite, but it's Solid! According to youtube comments, this was actually rejected from the Help! sessions?! If true then that only reinforces my point about how odd the perception is, though it's also possible that they did some improving in the time passing lmao

If I Needed Someone: This one is fine too! I don't have as much to say though, the lyrics are a bit wishy-washy but I can't fault the "Aaaaaaaahhhhhh" harmonies or steady drums :>

Run For Your Life: Oooouuugggghhhhhhhhhhhhh 😬 Isn’t it a shame when an incredible instrumental is tied to awful misogynistic words?! [AVGN Voice] What a shitload of fuck! What were they THINKING!? - Before I heard it I knew there was at least 1 incredibly iffy line, but that was wrong, it's the WHOLE damn thing!

I don't wanna come across as the Purity Culture type, who thinks there isn't room for Le Problematique aspects in art, but the entire song leaves not just a bad taste in the mouth, but it also kneecaps the album at the last hurdle. Rubber Soul is close to a no-skips album for me but this is a bummer. And it could have been amazing if it was less aggressive and unambiguously threatening. Homaging an Elvis line in a way that makes me wanna avoid Elvis songs too. Woopieeee. I know John came to regret this one, and again I emphasise it coulda been great if they didn't pick a shitty gimmick for the Words.

CONCLUSION

Best 3: Drive My Car, Nowhere Man, In My Life

Blurst 3: You Won't See Me, The Word, Run For Your Life

If Help! was the band hitting their stride, Rubber Soul is where they really pick up on speed! Almost every song is either fun, clever, beautiful or just plain catchy, and the ones I'm less into personally remain very strong. I still lament Run For Your Life and find the YWSM/ILTY twins a bit more of a drag, but they aren't numbers where I scramble to avoid the songs as a whole either. And on the other side of the coin are a few I'd call my faves!! In fact, this might just be my favourite album as a whole - if not in the entire release catalog, then absolutely So Far, but time will tell...! So, overall I must brand this album Amazing, while trying to keep in mind the next few that are similar quality but with different flavours, but one at a time XD;;

🪲🪲🪲🪲

The next collection keeps coming around, having some of the most beloved and iconic numbers within and being more of a twirl into the Psychodelic. Revolver shall rotate into position in due time~

[rollercoasterofshitposts]

AHEM. Spoilers below for Harry Potter book 7 and Artemis Fowl book 8. You have been warned.

Another little warning: This is going to be a bit ramble-y. If someone can put this into words better than I can, please do. I may come back and fix this later, but, knowing me… that’s not likely.

I figured out why the Main Character Death tm thing works for Artemis but not for Harry.

Let’s review the similarities between these two, first.

They both know ahead of time that they are getting into something that has a 99.999% chance of killing them.

They both died as a direct result of something The Big Bad did.

They both came back to life as a direct result of something Big Smart Genius Person did.

They both feel that they have no other choice.

(Before we really get into this, I would like to note that I am using both the HP books and movies for this. Since the author worked so closely with the movies, I feel that they are still a viable source of HP lore. I will not, however, be using the AF movie. It is a piece of hot dumpster garbage and I will not be swayed on that.)

So. Why does this Main Character Death tm thing work for Artemis, but not Harry?

For Harry, I always felt that the sacrifice fell flat. He wakes up on the very next page in that weird afterlife-spirity realm with Dumbledore. We KNOW that Wizard Afterlife exists by this. Dumbledore himself confirms it, or at least attempts to. (“Of course it’s all happening in your head, Harry, but why does that mean it’s not real?” yada yada yada) Harry will end up there if he dies. Also, what does he stand to lose by dying? Sure, he loses Ron, Hermione, and all of his friends, but he gains his family back. Even though the Resurrection Stone was likely a sham, we can see by Harry’s reaction that he is genuinely looking forward to seeing James and Lily and Sirius and Remus again.

There are no stakes. Harry wakes back up in the Forbidden Forest, secure in the knowledge that he is going to win. And, frankly, the author (may she rest in peace) set us up for a BIG win. If you’ve been paying attention for the last seven books, you know that Harry’s got this in the bag. It’s obvious from the first chapter. He beats Voldemort as a baby. Why should he NOT survive the Killing Curse a second time?

The other part of Harry’s story that is different from Artemis’s is that he has the knowledge that he is 100% walking into a death trap. He even says (at least in the movie) “I am ready to die”. This is his purpose. He’s fulfilling his last act as The Boy Who Lived. His story is complete, or it would have been had he actually died. The world would truly have been better off with Harry dead, and Harry would have been better for it.

In fact, all of Hogwarts believes he is dead. Neville’s rousing speech in the movie is proof of that.

-

The reason this works for Artemis is that there are still stakes in play. Harry waltzes up to Voldy and basically puts his own head on the chopping block, knowing that it will give the good guys the win they need. We as readers know that he is probably going to live, based on what we know about Harry and the author’s penchant for not killing off Really Important Characters. AND even if he dies, he returns to his family. It’s honestly his best-case scenario at this point.

There are no stakes for Harry.

-

Artemis, however, still has stakes. He’s just barely gotten to live a normal life with his parents and brothers. He has formed a good friendship with Holly and Butler, and he still has so much left to do. (We see this in Atlantis Complex. He has the knowledge, resources, and genius to straight-up fix global warming.) The world would be worse off without Artemis Fowl.

And then he dies.

-

What’s worse is that he has hope.

Harry walks in thinking there’s no way he can walk away from the Killing Curse a second time. He has accepted his death, putting no failsafes in place just in case he may have the option to come back. Artemis walks in thinking that his human DNA could overpower the tiny bit of fairy DNA. He has hope. It’s a slim hope, but he has it. He puts failsafes in place, just in case something does go horribly wrong, in the form of a kiss on Holly’s forehead and keeping the chrysalis operational, as well as a living will. He has accepted the fact that he certainly could die, but he says it himself, “I always thought there would be time for goodbyes.” He’s not ready.

After he seals that will, he thinks, “No going back now.” If anything, he feels trapped in his fate, while Harry accepts his. Directly after that, he nearly throws up. He’s scared as hell. There is, of course, the matter of Artemis’s reaction to Opal’s death: “All this time. All this strife and nobody wins. What a tragedy.” Again, acknowledging the stakes.

He didn’t know what would happen after he put Nopal’s hand in the white handprint. All he knew was that he may die from it, but he didn’t want to. (Yes, he tells Butler not to grab the defibrillator, but Artemis Fowl knows more about magic than most fairies do. He knows he’s screwed. Knowing you’re going to die is not the same as accepting it). There are still stakes in play. He is completely unsure of what he is doing, maybe for the first time in his life.

The other huge difference is that Artemis could still fail. Opal could open the second gate. Harry knows his goal and he knows Voldemort is arrogant enough to go through with killing him. Voldemort is predictable. Opal is… less so.

Finally, Artemis does actually die. There is a six-month period where he is straight-up dead. His parents mourn him. There’s a frickin’ funeral. (Harry has no such period. We know he’s going to come back relatively quickly after he “dies”.)

And yet, his most loyal friend, the man who was like a father to him, doesn’t believe it. Butler doesn’t attend the funeral and he truly believes that Artemis Fowl will come back.

It takes Holly six months to even give Butler that hope, and yet he still clings to nothing. I would wager that Holly believed the same. (e.g. “Yes, well, the barely conceivable is Artemis Fowl’s specialty.) She’s more evidence-driven, however, which makes sense considering she a. got that evidence about a week later and b. kept it to herself and Foaly until she knew they had something to work with. (It was also illegal, to be fair.)

-

Artemis Fowl was not ready to die, AND there were still stakes in play— and that made his death all the more poignant.

[vacantgodling]

Oh no, sorry about the last ask **sent it and immediately saw the post that Alizath is a place** ^^' But please still provide The Information

LMAOOOO NAUR that’s my bad. like i said i talked about this wip like once and never mentioned it again pfffff

but basically the information:

who is alizath

this fucky landmass up north. the smidge of yellow at the bottom is galeré, the country paramour’s mess takes place in cuz SURPRISE… these share a universe pff

what is alizath?

a hot mess basically. the government is run by “courts” or factions (perhaps cults… at least one of them kinda is) and there’s a central parliament that’s supposed to be the voice of the common people. like. it barely is but we move.

anyway tho there’s the iron spring, the titanium summer, the brass autumn, and the steel winter.

we mainly focus on the brass autumn bc the “dad” of our mc kirsi, used to be the ruler of the brass autumn but then he was framed for killing a guy and was exiled.

the story? well basically kirsi is supposed to bring favor back to her family by attending socialite events so that her father can be allowed back into alizath. also so that they can stop being horribly poor (they aren’t terribly bad off cuz they’re getting help but it’s complicated).

the real plot however is found as kirsi starts getting close to people and it becomes very apparent that the iron spring wants to become a sole monarchy. power struggles, romance, death, chaos, war, and more ensue!

but some basic important to know characters:

kirsi: she’s the mc. she’s also adopted (does not know this), part of a prophecy (definitely doesn’t know this), and isn’t fully human (kirsi knows jack shit about anything basically)

jeanna sunniva: she’s kirsi’s aunt who helped raise her for the purposes her brother has. she is strict but very protective over kirsi and her life has been Rough

juven: current leader of the brass autumn in his father’s stead. he’s also one of kirsi’s love interests (end game ot3 situation). he’s too young to be shackled with this shit but yknow. he’s here now. also he wants to keep alizath out of the hands of the spring and would rather it turn more into a republic or smthn.

amarette: juven’s best friend and from the titanium summer. his mama hates him teehee. he, juven and kirsi are end game ot3. he just wants to be able to live his life how he wants.

greye: eldest daughter of the iron spring who hates her father and is uh…. plotting lmao.🧍‍♂️

lord flykrost: the leader of the steel winter and tbh the only one with a head on his fucking shoulders. he values his family more than anything and is ready to turn the steel winter into its own nation at the drop of a hat to protect his family and the citizens who live in his region. very chill dude but he used to be the head of the general alizathan army so idk don’t fuck with him

lady love: lord flykrost’s wife and she’s scarier than him. she did settle down and loves those loyal to her fiercely. she and jeanna used to be good friends but why hmmm 🤔

and a bunch of other characters but yahhhhhhh

how did you get inspiration?

dude i used to love the app game helix waltz (it’s no longer a thing rip) and i wanted to make a story where i could romance my favorite character juven (i didn’t change juven’s first name but a lot about him otherwise has changed lol) sooooo this story got born out of that.

so yah i hope that’s a good overview pff

[livvyofthelake]

ok dead poets society album as a concept album about my special little guys…

fortnight- i mean. come on. how long does tda take place over. one month? ish? exactly. sidenote why did we doubt post malone so much he gave lana del ray in snow on the beach here. yay <3

the tortured poets department- i am going to be honest i did not like this song. or. i liked it in the way i liked slut in the 1989 vault tracks. which is to say i can see myself listening to it on repeat but i don’t like. Like it. do you understand? anyway we could say it’s about kit herondale but i fear it’s one of those taylor swift songs that’s about taylor swift. and. dear god. matty healy. girl… lucy dacus mention though

my boy only breaks his favorite toys- i fuck with this song heavy first of all. anyway this happened to my buddy kit herondale… “i knew too much there was danger in the heat of touch he saw forever so he smashed it up”!!!!!! i can’t get into it 😐

down bad- this is literally about emma carstairs and jules blackthorn…

so long london- in many ways this happened to cordelia carstairs at the end of chain of iron. i don’t care about this song

but daddy i love him- i’m sorry i liked this song so much i forgot to think about characters during it hold on let’s give it another go! i’m gonna be real. this happened to my friend blue sargent. that’s not relevant to the shadowhunter chronicles except in all the ways it is do with that what you must. this also happened to my friend belle. the artful dodger….. sorry for loving straight people as if that’s a fucking crime oh my god… in a way this also happened to my buddy gabrielle. let’s not get into that. some absolute bars of lyrics in here it must be said also… taylor calm down wow

fresh out the slammer- i shan’t speak on this one. don’t ask me about it i’m not supposed to even be thinking about this shit dear god.

florida!!!- made me cry. sorry for being emotionally moved by florence welch’s beautiful voice singing about the state my dead aunt lived in my whole life. i’m fine

guilty as sin?- elio pearlman you would’ve loved this joint. anyway we move on. this happened to my friend kit. in a sense. to me…

who’s afraid of little old me?- we must break from form and say a very midnights era thing. this literally happened to my good friend morgana pendragon bbc merlin. and i fuck with this song immensely

i can fix him (no really i can)- first of all this one is going to be huge for ao3 fanfic titles it’s already formatted…. i digress. in my beautiful world this will be dru blackthorn… and i believe her

loml- well. who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway. we embroidered the memories of the time i was away stitching “we were just kids babe”. must it even be said. let’s not be gauche. divorce ass song…

i can do it with a broken heart- taylor swift ass song… but i loved it…. in a way this happened to kara. don’t worry about it

the smallest man who ever lived- THIS HAPPENED TO MY FRIEND ALINA STARKOV. I HOPE THAT MAN DIES. both the darkling and joe alwyn. put him in jail actually i decided. he’s not seeing the pearly gates.

the alchemy- so happy my travy made it to the big game….. i’m sorry. i love the song genuinely it’s camp. it’s CAMP. it’s riverdalian. america strong fr! clace core they’re the blueprint to me idc…

clara bow- clary…….

[skzoologist]

Blanket pile season 💕 my fav season is summer for food but blanket hoarding and sweater weather is my fav aesthetic-wise 💕💕 what's your fav season? :0

Good luck on your exam!!

Oooh tango and waltz group dances!! :0 I wish that I got to learn a bit of those, they look fun!! I'm sorry to hear that the teacher made it a bad experience in the end 😭 😭 hopefully you can find someone to dance with 🤞

Doctors writing off problems without actually giving a proper diagnosis 😞 that sounds so frustrating ;-; hopefully you get a proper diagnosis soon and a treatment if needed! 🤞😭

Sure, it can be frustrating sometimes, yeah, but we 100% prefer you prioritize your well being over a new chapter! So please don't worry ab it!!

- 🐹

You're so real for that, 🐹 anonnie. My favourite weather is actually winter (no wonder Bae's bday is in December), since I can wear my fluffy and skin covering clothes, like my turtlenecks, all I want. Although in a proper country with a proper winter season I would definitely get sick often, haha.

Thank you, I very much need it 😭

Yup! I was kinda good at them too, so when I was dragged into the kpop fandom, this horrible nostalgic, gaping hole reopened in my chest. I miss dancing, but I haven't done any sports or proper excercises in so long, my body is now just too weak for it. And that makes me even more self-conscious, which only adds into my fear of finding a group to dance in. So let's hope someone sees my introvert ass and adopts it (like they usually do), and drags me to dance.

I am used to this whole shebang with the doctors. Not the first time they did this, and it won't be the last. I'll probably die like this, and I'm only being realistic here.

...then you all would need to wait for a looooong time. But that won't happen. You either get fed on this blog, or on my Reader one soon.