#streaming becomes suddenly so much less appealing than you know how much tracking they do and how little they pay their artist

[demacianpuppet]

I totally understand the appeal of Spotify Wrapped and I would love to be annoying about the bands I listen to, but a) I try to leave as little data as possible in internet and I simply don't use Spotify and b) I prefer to actually buy the CDs and to support the bands I enjoy, so they are actually to be able to continue doing music.

[discotechque]

till my hand shook with the way I fear

pairing: abed nadir/nby! reader word count: 1.6k rating: T

me and abed have neurodivergent solidarity and for that, we would be besties. also the mc in this is specifically non-binary so whatever.

There's clear haze that settles over the bar, that's the first thing Abed realizes once he settles into the space. It's dim, like most bars are and he assumes that's the charm of places like these. Jeff and Britta are adults ( he is too but he's overlooked and therefore his opinion is mute ) so he follows their guidance. Watching from afar, observing their inebriated choices while downing another shot.

He doesn’t get the point of alcohol, much less bars, and it seems the whole point is to get pleasure after an initial sting. A sharp weight that lays in the back of one's throat before elation rips through you. Bourbon burns through him with too much consequence, gin coats his mouth with a bitter tang, and wine falls flat on his tongue.

Maybe it's his upbringing, he's never witnessed his father take a sip to this day, or the pressure that rushes to his frame when he's offered a drink. Abed understands the appeal of bars, it does not mean he shares the same sentiments to them. They're noisy little backend places where melancholic characters come to waste away their sorrows, typically finding pathetic people who drool over glass rims.

However, he is not pathetic ( even if his oldest friend is rounding his seventies and community college all seemed like a folly ) and he had never been overtly dripping with melancholy. So he stood by the small arcade game in the corner, unbothered and safe, until someone offered kindness.

And he takes miles of that even if all they've given was an inch because even if he isn't pathetic or melancholic, he is greedy. He likes eyes being on him because he has so many thought he wants to share with one mouth that can only do so much. Abed is not dumb, he knows what the man wants and how his friendly touches are slowly rising above his knee.

He knows what the man wants and isn't surprise at his outburst once learning that the feelings isn't reciprocated. There's streams of Mint Julep dripping from his jaw and lashes, softly mumbling about his love for Farscape before having it degraded. Abed knows he deserves it and was warned by Annie that people are sensitive ( but he is not held by the bounds of common decency or empathy no matter how hard he tries to keep his mouth shut. )

Then, he remembers the man's proposition ( the only reason someone would be interested in him ). He isn't familiar with being viewed as a sexual object and men weren't unwelcome in his eyes. Gay? Is he gay? Maybe something that exists within the unorthodox box that is sexual realization? The questions sound so foreign even within the echo chamber of his mind.

He's in a dingy bar celebrating his best friend's birthday, this is not a time for the sexual exploration of his subconscious ( although he saves the thought because he considers if not now then when ). The drink is seeping within his clothes, it's going to stick if he doesn't move. He needs to fucking move.

And he does, swiftly pulling himself away from the chair and heading towards the bathroom. Wherever that is, Shirley said it was in the far back and Annie said fair left. Yet, she meticulous as ever so what if she always assume her left is everyone's true left and Shirley is vague with her directions but it doesn't even seem to be enjoying her time here at all.

He's not enjoying it either if he's honest. His loose shit now sticks to his chest and he knows it would make sopping sounds if the man's glass was any larger. Jeff brought them here to celebrate because they're all adults and Troy deserves to have a birthday party in style but if all Jeff and Britta do it bicker, doesn't that make them children themselves? And if he shares his companionship with them, does that make him and all the others children by association?

He's going nowhere with this train of though, this he knows but it can't ever seem to stop. His brain becomes a leaky faucet that can never be screwed back just right so it drips and drips just like the alcohol does along his jaw and lashes. Abed wants to go home but he's with his friends and it's his best friend's party and it'd be so rude of him to leave so soon. At least, that's what Annie tells him.

( Parties were far and few between when he was younger and even then, he cannot replace family functions for beings that truly care for him. )

But then he remembers you, nursing an iced tea in the corner because you are not interested in bestowing wisdom onto Troy that you do not have or participating in anybody's shenanigans. Bars are where people come to hook up or fuck up, you proclaimed on the car ride here, there's no in between.

Then he hears it, bursting against his ears as a smile splits across your face, a discotheque pop song that might be pleasant if it wasn't so overwhelming. His hand involuntarily taps against his thigh in tune with the rhythm. It helps sort out the sensations, the noise is different than the bland flavoring of water, and he knows what's what but it all feels the same in his mind.

Abed's eyelids shut, another involuntary tick he can never seem to shake, and his hand has created it's own beat. Rapid and rushed with no real rhyme or reason except for the fact that it's something that will tug his mind away from everything. ( It's the same thing he does when he's at the edge of a rollercoaster, it makes him safe. ) If everyone else can sway to a rhythm, why can't he?

"Hey," an unexpected voice softly call out to him ( tenderness within this group almost borders on unnatural ). Abed slowly opens his eyes to see you, you call out to him. He feels his hands move away from his pants, tangled within your fingers instead as you gaze at him with earnest. "five things you can see?"

Your hands feel polished, no—plush. He's afraid that if his thumbs press too hard, he'll begin to meld into your being. That's a great idea for a movie, he thinks and he knows you've been his muse from time to time. Maybe it means something, he's not willing to deep any deeper.

His eyes scan the room for a brief second before he rattles off, "The wooden floors, the bartender, the door, the chair behind you, and Annie still trying to be a Texan."

Her accent still lingers within her mind, poor acting for someone so involved a role they've assigned for themselves. The though nearly amuses him but he's getting off track, he needs to focus on you. On the way your hands gently rub over his knuckles and needs to ignore this growing pit within his stomach on whatever that insinuates.

"Four things you can feel?"

"My feet against my shoes, my jeans against my legs, how hot my ears are, your hands."

You don't let go even after he's mentioned it, instead he receives a squeeze that sounds throughout his body. A continuous cycle the runs on until you ask him for something he can taste, he doesn't know what lingers within the crevices of his mouth. ( He'd want it to be you and licks his lips without a second thought. ) Yet, settles on the answer Mint Julep.

Something about thinking this way must be wrong, he shouldn't want to keep holding your fingers or gaze into your fervent irises. He shouldn't be attracted to someone like you and shouldn't be searching for so many reason on why he has to tear himself away from your presence. Still, shouldn't doesn't stop him from doing so.

Maybe his hands have melted into yours, it'd be a good excuse on why he can't bring himself to let go. The song changes again, how long has he been in this small little world with you?

"Hey, it's Mazzy Star, this fucks so hard." he's heard of this before, maybe you've shared it with him. It's less grating on his ears, smooth melodies being shifted on strings, and he watches you sway from the corner of his eye.

( He likes to be watched but something about you commands all his attention. )

Still shifting from foot to foot, you turn to him with a far more lax expression. Both shifting into familiarity as you ask, "You wanna sit down?"

"Not really," he shoots back suddenly but you're not perturbed at his fast response reflex. However, his heart sinks as the next words tumble from his lips. "but we can stand here and sway?"

You don't pull your hand away from his, instead, pressing into his fingers as you ponder a reply. Perhaps you think this isn't real as much as he presumes you'll humiliate him for even asking. But you don't and another smile splits down your features, large than the last one he saw from across the room.

"Of course, Abed Nadir has a genius idea. Let's do it."

You don't move him from this space you've cultivated with him. Instead, wrapping arms around his neck as he places them on your waist ( he never went to prom but this is better than any teenage fantasy ). Moving side to side, never shifting around in a circle but rather awkwardly figuring out a steady pace while his stares becoming fonder while the night grows.

Abed still doesn't get the point of bars but he can figure it out the next time he's here with you.

[qoreprojects]

The Party Whip, or Lilith in the 11th House

Not long ago, I paid a visit to my 11th house to speak with Lilith. She lives there, along with my South Node - a tiny golden compass that points toward the past. It was the past that I wanted. Lilith had lived in this house alongside it for so long that I believed she’d be able to help me understand what it meant. 

“You thought that I would be angrier?” she laughed sharply. 

Lilith was perched on a window seat, half her face bathed in the single stream of light in an otherwise shadow-filled room. She wore a simple red shift dress. Her hair was loc’d and tumbled towards her leather-belted waist on one side of her head, exposing a shaved opposite side to the dappled sun. She held an orange and a pocket knife in her hands. 

I nodded slightly. Every movement in this room could be felt in ways that did not exist in the material realm. Palpable waves rippled away from the tiniest gestures. Shadows danced in the corners. The air was possessed, and every shift had meaning.   

“That’s funny,” she said, flicking a peel onto the floor, “I don’t know why people only recognize Lady Regret when I am in my war clothes.” She used her own title with a touch of irony. 

Several crows called to one another outside, and a light breeze stirred the distant treetops. This movement agitated the shadows in the room. All was as it should be - in flux. 

“You are here because you want to know about your greatest regret,” Lilith stated presently. 

“I suppose so, yes,” my breath rippled away from me in the cool, dark air. “At this point, I’ve run out of reasons not to know.” 

Lilith smiled a lop-sided smile and continued peeling, one foot on the sill and one on the floor. “Are you familiar with the term ‘true believer’?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, knowing where this was going. I could feel the conversation as a tangible thing, like a strong westerly wind. The shadows and the dust particles organized themselves accordingly. Lilith tilted her face to look me directly in the eye. “What about the term ‘party whip’?”

The wind of conversation changed directions, and the shift was slight but sudden. I marveled at the subtle switch, and a sense of dread overcame me. The life inside the room absorbed my response as an addition to its moving chorus of shadows. 

She paused to eat one section of orange, and then began peeling again. “The party whip is a different thing, isn’t it? Let’s examine the two…”

The True Believer and the Party Whip

The life of a True Believer can easily be confused with personal sacrifice on behalf of others. This is because, from the outside, it looks as if the True Believer is willing to give up a great deal for their party. They may give up relationships, time, effort, money, or freedom to make certain lifestyle choices. Observers who consider the party a worthy cause call the True Believer “self-sacrificing” and “a saint”; people who dislike the cause say the True Believer is silly and “voting against their own interests”.

In truth, the True Believer sacrifices little for the party because the party’s goals and the True Believer’s goals are almost exactly the same. If a True Believer does sacrifice anything for the party, it is minor and without much pain or hesitation. There is no real conflict between their motivations and that of the party. The True Believer may recognize some problems or contradictions within the party, or they may lack the critical perspective to do so. In either case, the flaws of the party and the flaws of the True Believer are largely the same. There can be a kind of innocence in that.   

A Party Whip is not the same thing as a True Believer. (A Party Whip can also be a True Believer - but for the purposes of this conversation we will consider them separately.) Unlike the True Believer, the Party Whip does not necessarily align with everything the party says and does on a personal level. They may notice glaring flaws and issues within the party. They may believe that the party’s words and deeds do not match. They may long for previous versions of the party, or hope for future ones, while considering the present party to be a mere shadow of itself. They may think of the party’s goals as good general rules that will benefit the world, but that should not be applied in every situation without nuance. 

The only things necessary for the role of a successful Party Whip are a sincere belief that the party is the best way to get things done - to have a hand in the creation of the world, to make things happen - and that the ends of this goal justify the means. For the sake of those two beliefs, the Party Whip can modify their own behavior and offer themselves up to be ‘borrowed’ by the party, in the hope that they can ‘borrow’ the party’s collective power for themselves at a later date. 

Say, the leaders and vanguards of the party have decided that its collective goals will be best served by oranges. Under no circumstances can there be apples. Other fruits are fine, though less than ideal - but absolutely no apples. The Party Whip shows up to work and receives the party line: everyone in the party is to vote for oranges, and it is the Whip’s job to ensure this outcome.

The intelligent Whip has their finger on the collective pulse and can understand exactly why the party agenda is supported by oranges. They also know that competing parties are out there voting for other fruits - sometimes even apples. This is unacceptable. The party must win, which means that oranges must win and apples must lose.  

The skilled Party Whip may not personally enjoy the taste or texture of oranges. They may even feel sympathetic to apples. However, the Whip is quite accustomed to viewing their own tastes and desires as a secondary concern to more important matters: the party line. They know how to either conceal or surgically remove the parts of themselves that are not convenient to the party and its goals - unlike the True Believer, who has never had to change very much about themselves in exchange for membership.

Therefore the Party Whip is assigned a role: to go out among members of the party, keep track of everyone who might vote for another fruit, and get them to vote for oranges instead. To accomplish this, the Party Whip is going to use whatever tools they already use to keep themselves in line with the party’s interests. 

These tools vary, and may include: 

Shame and guilt

Reasoned arguments

Coercion

Information

Misinformation

Bribery

Cost-benefit analysis

Promises of future reward for current sacrifice

Appeals to duty, loyalty and obligation

Not all of these methods are equally ethical. A Party Whip is only able to be as ethical when whipping the rest of the party to consensus as they are when whipping themselves in private. 

Lady Regret in the 11th House

Your biggest regret is being a very skilled Party Whip. 

You were good at living your life according to the party line. This earned you such compliments as ‘inspiration’ and ‘example’, which made you feel safe and valued. You were gifted at being able to distance yourself from your own instincts so thoroughly that parties rewarded you with protection and support in exchange for your skill at keeping their dissenting or individualistic members in line. This was not questionable for you - you participated in this exchange because you believed it was good and righteous, and that the party’s ends justified the means.

You privately exulted in your own savvy. You believed your differences from the True Believer - your ability to perceive the group’s flaws and issues with a bit more perspective - made you more ethical. In reality, it made you more culpable. Your clarity was a gift meant to inspire you to take risks and speak up, valuing the truth over any attachment to the party’s reaction.

You did not speak up. 

You chose to improve the party by sacrificing your unique perspective in exchange for access to the collective’s power; you were shocked when improvement never came. When push came to shove and the party’s power was threatened, for one reason or another, they abandoned you. Perhaps the abandonment was purposeful. Perhaps they simply no longer had enough clout to protect you. In any case, the party name was no longer able to get you into the rooms you wanted to enter. Your persuasiveness on others’ behalf was no longer in demand. The recognition in strangers’ eyes when you flaunted your membership card dwindled. Circumstances may have even become so drastic that mentioning the party put you in danger rather than keeping you safe.    

A lone, displaced ruler must rely on personal power and instinct. They cannot rely on an ever-present council or party membership to get things done. You were suddenly alone - the sole authority of your life. You were not prepared for this. The years, or even lifetimes, you spent living outside of your own will have taken a toll. You don’t even know how to have a thought or emotion without examining it for its usefulness to some group, even when there is none present. You walk around barefoot and in rags with panic behind your eyes. You roam the streets waving a saw and rasping through dry lips, “I will saw off anything for friends in high places! Fingers, feet! I will cut off anything for friends in high places! Eyes, face! I have experience, will work for connections!”

Most people are horrified and cross the street when they see this display. Some see you as a temporary tool and take advantage of you until you have nothing left to give. Some people see your true heart better than you do and try to connect with it, but by this time you are jaded and assume that all anyone could want from you is your skill as Party Whip. They try to love you, but you are too preoccupied with trying to dutifully serve their interests in exchange for power and validation.

Dreams shrivel and die like old fruit under these conditions - again, again, and again. This is the loop, the hoop that must be mended. 

Resolution

Lilith rose from the windowsill. Her full height compelled the room’s darkness to rearrange itself. Dead orange peels lie on the floor at her feet, glowing in the patch of sunlight that streamed through the window. 

“Who are you when you are alone?”

I sat down on the dusty floorboards and stared into the shadows. 

“What are you capable of creating - or destroying - when you only do so from your heart?”

The shadows gave me nothing but constant shifting in return. 

“As long as you sacrifice your dreams for others’ out of fear that you cannot accomplish them alone, your efforts will go to waste. Parties are not forever; empires fall and agendas shift like the wind. Learn to build true alliances based on raw love - which can only happen when you are clear and unashamed of your own desire.”

I looked up just in time to see her toss me the last slice of orange. My hand shot up to catch it, and I carefully considered its juicy ripeness against my fingers. 

It felt delicious. 

[larkiwrites]

“Redemption” Chapter 16

AU: Supernatural Title: Redemption Chapter: Sixteen Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Word Count:  1,895 Pairing: Getting There…. Warnings: Flashbacks, references to wounds from previous chapters A/N: This chapter flips between (Y/N)’s POV and more of Dean’s POV. So sorry for the delay. Working F/T + homeschooling my kid + my husband having surgery.... it’s been busy.  

Chapter Fifteen  |  Chapter Seventeen   |   Masterlist

*Dean’s POV

Dean glanced back at (Y/N) in the rear-view mirror of his beloved Impala. They had all gotten some rest at the cabin, and were even sorry to say goodbye to the place when they left for Bobby’s, but Sam and Dean knew it was the best place to go for now. Bobby could help them track the demon that had attacked (Y/N), for starters. (Y/N) would also be safe with Bobby, at his house, while the two brothers hunted the demon down. For now, she sat quietly and watched the scenery pass by. He knew she had questions, he would think she was crazy if she didn’t, but he didn’t want to be the one to bring them up. He and his brother had agreed, no more secrets with her, of any kind, but he didn’t have a single clue on how to broach the subject. Somehow, he didn’t think, ‘hey, sorry about that back there, we should have told you there as a demon in town,’ would be a good start.

Sam sat in the passenger side of the car, also watching the landscape go by in a blur. It was a rare moment when Sam wasn’t engulfed in his laptop or a book but Dean figured they could all use a break for a minute, even from research. Classic rock resonated from the speakers, just barely loud enough for the three of them to register it. Other than that, the sound of the vehicle on the highway was all that could be heard. Oddly enough, the ride seemed less tense than some of the drives they had taken previously. Maybe it was because Dean had also decided that he would stop trying to distance himself from (Y/N). She was apparently in it for the long haul, so what was the point? More importantly, he knew it was his actions that had pushed her out the motel door and into the demon’s grip. It was his fault she had been strung up and essentially tortured. There was a lot of work to do to try make up for his stupidity and the pain it had caused. His grip tightened on the wheel as he subconsciously clenched his jaw, thinking back on it.

---- *(Y/N)’s POV

The drive to Bobby’s was long. Despite being back with Sam and Dean, and even with Dean acting like a caring human for once, you’d never felt so alone. You tried not to think about all of the things you had learned, or remembered, over the past week. You chose, instead, to stare blankly out the rear window of the Impala. In spite of your efforts, the memories continued to surface in your mind.

You were an only child, and your parents were the only family you had ever had. Sure, you had friends and you had dated before, but your parents were your only blood. Now they were gone, and you were really, truly alone. To top it off, you knew you could never go home, either. You could never go to their graves and weep for them or try to apologize. You were surprised you hadn’t been arrested by now. Did the police not know you were the culprit? They must have found fingerprints all over your parents’ home left by you and the black-eyed man, whoever he was. Maybe they were searching for you now. Were you putting Sam and Dean at risk? Would they be charged for harboring a fugitive? You had no idea. A tear slipped down your face as your emotions became too much. You quickly wiped it away and ducked your head, suddenly very interested in your hands.

“(Y/N)?” It was Dean’s that spoke. It was odd hearing his tone laced with concern.

“Hmm?” you couldn’t bring yourself to verbalize a reply, the tears threatening to spill over.

“You ok?” he asked softly.

You nodded, refusing to look up, and tried to take a steady breath. You felt exhausted.

“What’s goin on in that head?” Sam’s attention was on you, now.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up, your gaze meeting the younger Winchester’s. Concern was etched into his features as his hazel eyes searched yours.

“I, um,” you glanced away, unable to finish the thought while looking at him. You closed your eyes before continuing, “I think might have done something, something before meeting you.”

You hadn’t meant to talk about it now, but the words slipped out before you could catch them. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and fought the abrupt urge to open the car door and jump out. The prospect of being ran over suddenly became more appealing than continuing the conversation. Opening your eyes once more, you focused again on your hands, picking anxiously at the cuticle of your thumb nail.

“Something like what, (Y/N)?” Sam pressed.

“I’m not sure, I think I might have hurt some people…” you trailed off, remembering the nightmares you had had since leaving the hospital with the Winchesters. If you killed your parents, did that mean the nightmares were real? Had you hurt anyone else?

“Why,” Dean cleared his throat, “Why do you, uh, say that?”

Daring to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, you whispered, “I think I remember it.”

It was silent for what felt like a lifetime. You missed the shared look between the brothers in the front seat as you went back to staring at your hands.

“What do you remember?” the younger man turned toward you.

“I, um, well, I’m not….sure,” you finished lamely, they would think you were crazy if you told them the subway story, you were sure of it.

“Do you remember meeting us, before the hospital?” Dean’s eyes found yours in the mirror once more as his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to maintain the eye contact. You couldn’t find the words to answer him. This wasn’t the direction you wanted to take the conversation and that asphalt under the tires was becoming more tempting by the second.

“All of it?” he barely whispered, his gaze flitting between the rearview mirror and the road at an alarming rate.

You shook your head, looking back at your hands before replying, “I remember a warehouse, or something- um, some kind of empty building… and fighting with the two of you. It’s--” you swallowed, emotion bubbling up within you, “um, kind of hazy, but I remember being tied to a chair.” Tears began to slowly spill from your eyes.

“Is that why you ran?”

You nodded, closing your eyes tightly.

“(Y/N),” Sam’s voice was raw with emotion. Just the way he said your name almost sounded like he was pleading with you.

Dean pulled the Impala off of the highway and onto a dirt road that stretched out toward a farm in the distance. You wrapped your arms about your waist, trying to cling to something- anything- and to hold yourself together. You were so confused, all of the distorted memories and nightmares swirled in your mind, pooling and muddling together. Your resolve began to crumble as tears streamed freely down your face. You held your breath in an attempt to keep from sobbing.

You faintly registered the sound of car doors opening and shutting as you held yourself. Suddenly, the warmth of strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you sideways into a broad chest. The scent of leather with faded hints of fire overwhelmed you. You buried your face in your hands as you continued to cry, trying desperately to keep yourself from breaking down entirely.

“Let it out,” Dean soothed as he rubbed circles on your back, letting you cry into his shirt. You briefly wondered why it was Dean, why not Sam? The thought left as soon as it came as Dean rocked you slowly, holding you together for you as you let go.

--- *Dean’s POV

Sam and Dean had exited the car together, just as soon as the car was parked. The younger Winchester leaned against the hood of the Impala, running his hands through his long hair, while his older brother climbed into the back seat with (Y/N). God, she was hurt. Confusion was evident in her tone as she relayed what few images she had pieced together, and Dean felt like shit. He should have listened to Sam. He should have told her everything, the moment they brought her back to that first motel with them.

The memories of those first few days with (Y/N) came rushing back as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. Sam had left the motel, went to get supplies or something, leaving Dean and (Y/N) alone. Out of genuine concern he had helped her tend to the wound on her head, regret filling him to his core as he did. He knew she only had stitches because of them. The hunt had gone all wrong, and they had ended up fighting her into submission and into that stupid chair. They exorcised the demon and saved the girl, or so he had thought. He had no idea how broken she was and how much work there was left before she could be considered ‘saved.’

“Let it out,” his voice was rough with emotion as he rubbed circles on her back, urging her to relax, to breathe. He knew he and Sam had a lot to explain but that could wait. Right now, she needed to get this out of her system and he didn’t intend to let her do it on her own.

Sam began pacing outside of the car. He knew Dean had (Y/N), he knew his brother cared for her and knew she was in good hands, but none of that knowledge seemed to quell the anxiety within him. He checked the watch on his wrist every few minutes, not wanting to delay getting to Bobby’s. He had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, urging him not to linger in one place for too long. After fifteen minutes he slid back into the passenger seat of the car, looking behind him at his brother and (Y/N). Dean’s shirt was soaked in tears and his eyes welled with emotion while he held her tightly to him. She looked small and vulnerable against his brother. He met his Dean’s gaze and the elder Winchester nodded; he knew they needed to head out. After a moment of hesitation, he instructed Sam to drive, he would sit in the back with (Y/N) for a bit. The keys still hung in the ignition, making it easy for Sam to slide over into the driver seat and start the car back up.

The uneasy feeling that he had was growing ever stronger, pushing him to move faster than he would have normally. He turned the car around and got back onto the highway, accelerating until he was well over the speed limit. If Dean or (Y/N) noticed the speed they didn’t say anything. Dean continued to hold onto their upset friend until she relaxed in his arms and eventually fell asleep, the emotions having taken a toll on her. Sam couldn’t explain the urgency behind his movements or why he suddenly felt so anxious, he only knew they needed to get to Bobby’s, and fast.

----

Next Chapter

[looselucy]

Vitae & Mortem

Dystopian AU - Read the previous chapters

This chapter contains extremely violent scenes. Please read with caution

Part Ten

UNKNOWN TIME My mind had been empty for hours. I didn’t move. I didn’t think. I barely took the time to breathe. For a while, my existence was nothing more than a lifeless being on the ground. I was covered in my own blood and dirt, unable to track the hours like I usually could. There wasn’t a single way for natural light to leak into the room where they’d trapped me, unable to comprehend how long I’d been there, or how long they’d keep me there. In my mind, there were only two options available at that point. I would live a life where I accepted what happened to Lost Children, standing proudly by my father’s side and pretending I was blind to the ugly truth. Or, they would kill me.

Despite the bargain they’d offered, where I could live in a home, sleep in a bed and have a normal existence, the latter option still appealed to me much more than the first. Harry had tried to manipulate me, to change my dreams. He’d talked about how all he wanted was a home and a family, and planted that seed of thought firmly into my mind in the hope that I would want the same thing. That was why he had kissed me. They had this aim to weaken me and to change what I wanted from my life. But they had failed. It may have taken me a while to really think things through, but I knew that I’d rather die than to live a life with so little honesty. Even if he hadn’t told me everything he had, if I was still existing thinking that Mortemosis was an airborne disease, and not inflicted upon people by choice due to their class or income, I knew it still wouldn’t be an option for me to stand as his side and ignore the struggles that I and thousands of other children faced. Death was much kinder than that. Death involved a dignity that I was longing to keep. With great difficulty, I twisted my body to look over my shoulder and see the blood around my wrist, which was now dry and making the cuffs even less comfortable than they were in the first place. It was itching and scratching so badly I almost wanted to fight the restraints again just to create fresh blood that would stop the irritation. The only thing that stopped me was the sound of footsteps, and then within the seconds the door ahead of me had swung open, and Harry stood looking down to me. I didn’t say anything as he walked into the room, hands deep in his pockets and face stern. I didn’t flinch, wanting him to think I was unstirred by his presence even though it was killing me. I held it together until he closed the gap and knelt down in front of me. “STAY AWAY FROM ME!” I screamed, kicking my legs at him and watching a sour look introduce itself to his face. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” “Jax, stop!” He sighed, reaching out to me. “DON’T!” I screamed. “Do not touch me! Stay away from me or I’ll scream.” “What good do you think screaming will do?” “DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME!” I fought further, kicking furiously. “I’M NOT GOING TO FUCKING HURT YOU!” He snarled, forcing his hands against my shoulders and pushing me into place. “I’m not going to hurt you, so calm down. You don’t wanna bring other Krows in here because they’re not as forgiving as I am.” “I would rather be in here with anyone else.” I spat, moving my face forward so it was just inches from his. “Breathing the same air as you makes me sick.” “I came to ask if you wanted something to eat.” “LEAVE ME ALONE, HARRY! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU! I don’t… I don’t even know if that’s your real name. I don’t know you. All you’ve ever wanted to do it hurt me, and that… It’s not the boy I know.” He looked so lifeless. It was like nothing could stir him. I don’t know why I was trying to pull some kind of emotional reaction out of him, because I could see he wasn’t going to give me one. I didn’t know him. “My name is Harry.” He replied. “Are you… Are you a Lost Child?” I asked, trying to hold back tears. “Have they offered you something for doing this?” “I’m not a Lost Child.” He grumbled. “I’m a Krow. It was just my job.” I screamed, kicking him away from me again and feeling even worse than before. I had managed to convince myself that there was a reason he had done what he had. I thought he was a Lost Child and they’d offered him the same thing, a safe place to live and a life of immunity. I think maybe then I would have been able to wrap my head around it. But that wasn’t it. He was just a Krow, like all the others. It was his job to find and kill Lost Children. Nothing more, nothing less. All those things he told me he dreamed about, safety, a home, he already had that. “JAX, STOP FIGHTING ME!” “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME? I’M GOING TO DIE AND IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU!” “YOU DON’T HAVE TO DIE! YOU HAVE ANOTHER OPTION!” “I DON’T!” “DON’T PLAY THE HERO, JAX! TAKE THE OTHER OPTION!” “I WOULD RATHER DIE, HARRY! I MAY NOT KNOW YOU BUT YOU KNOW ME, AND YOU KNOW I WOULD NEVER TAKE THAT OPTION!” “FINE! Do whatever the fuck you want. Fuck!” He spat, and then whipped back up to his feet and distanced from me, knowing I was only going to attack if he stayed at my level. He paced the room a little, running a hand through his thick hair. It was weird to see him dressed like one of them, perfectly clean and groomed when I was accustomed to seeing him with the dirt of London’s street painted upon his face. In a way, I missed him. I missed the character he had created. “Do you want something to eat or not?” He spat. “Fuck. You.” He gripped his fists down at his side, and I almost thrived off making him angry. At least it something, some form of emotion that I could track and follow rather than the blank boy he had been showing me. I wanted him to be infuriated, because I was feeling everything all at once because of what he’d put me through. I hated him being so numb to everything, like none of it mattered to him. I needed him to feel something. So as he left the room, slamming the door behind himself, I found myself grinning. UNKNOWN TIME I was becoming dizzy, somehow. The room felt as though it was closing in on me. At that stage, I believed that days must have passed by. I’d go through stages of being overly hot and then suddenly I’d be freezing. I’d attempted at breaking my own thumbs to get out of the cuffs, but stopped my efforts when I realised that even being out of those chains didn’t mean I could just walk out of there. The door was bound to be locked. There were bound to be countless Krows crawling through the building who would stop my weak attempt at escape. I didn’t know what they were waiting for. I didn’t know how long they were allowing me to make my mind up on the ultimatum they had given me. I didn’t have a damn clue what was happening. And then Harry re-entered the room. He stormed towards me, the most sinister look I had ever seen from him shaping each feature of his face, leaving me trying to scramble away from me as much as I could, sobbing quietly and absolutely convinced that this was it. This was end. “Please make it quick, Harry. Please kill me quickly. Please.” He knelt down in front of me, pulling his hand from behind his back, and as he pushed it against my chest, I’d fully been expecting him to have been grasping the knife that I had given him. I expected to feel an agonizing pain shooting through my body. But that wasn’t what I got. I’d had my eyes gripped shut, teeth gritted, but then that fell, and I opened my eyes and looked down to the large folder that he’d slapped against my chest. “In here, is everything that your dad told you about.” He whispered harshly. “It goes into everything about the truth behind Mortemosis. And there’s proof in there too.” “What’re ya doing?” I mumbled. “You need to get this Gardan. You need to take it to him and let him print everything. Then everyone will know the truth.” Nothing made sense to me. I was trying to come to terms with this new twist, but I’d barely become accustom to every other piece of information they’d forced upon me. He tried to reach and touch my hair, but I flinched again, and never before I had I been so conscious of my breathing, like I had to concentrate fully on the process just so my body continued to tide over. “I don’t trust you.” I sobbed gently. “I’m gunna uncuff you now, okay? And I’m gunna get you out of here but we need to be quick.” “Don’t touch me.” “Jax, I’m not going to hurt you! Please believe me.” He begged. “You’ve already hurt me.” “But I want to help you. You have to let me help you!” I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that I was still trying to put distance between us, but he kept pushing closer, a look of genuine desperation in his eyes but I knew I couldn’t trust even the subconscious ticks of his body. I’d fallen for it before and I really didn’t want to fall for it again. “Why should I trust you?” I whispered, tears streaming silently down my cheeks. “Because you’ve got nothing to lose.” I remained still as he reached hesitantly behind my back, making sure that our eyes remained locked the entire time, like he was trying to forge some form of trust between us. He wet his lips, slow with his movements, waiting for me to attack him again, but I’d been stunned into silence and stillness. There was a small click a few moments later, and the feeling of relief as my wrists were let loose. This was something they’d hadn’t bet on. This was something I hadn’t bet on. Because they were counting on me developing feelings for him, but they hadn’t allowed themselves to consider the possibility of Harry developing feelings for me, and that was the only explanation. I brought my wrists round in front of me, looking at how my blood had jammed and dried into every single crease of my hands. My skin was red-raw, my thumbs almost black with bruises after I’d attempted to break my own bones. By the time I looked back up, Harry was crying. He was actually crying. “I’m so sorry.” He sobbed, gently feeling over my hands with the tips of his fingers. “I can’t believe you’re here because of me. I’m so sorry.” “Harry-” “I can’t live like this. I’d never forgive myself if I let them kill you. I have to get you out of here.” “They’ll kill you.” I trembled, shaking my head, which ached more and more with every word he spoke. “Jax, I see the world so differently after meeting you. And I can’t finish this job. I can’t. I need to help you and everyone… needs to know the truth. You’re the most… amazing, inspiring person. I have to save you.” “You’re lying to me.” I refused. “You’re just going to kill me. This is… the last part, isn’t it? You just want to see if I really trust you. This is… the ultimate test of my feelings for you. Just like when you… pretended to be dead, just to show that I love you.” “You what?” I hadn’t meant to say that. I’d never said that to anyone before I certainly didn’t want to say it to him. I hated him. I despised him for the pain he’d put me through. I had dropped all my boundaries for him, created a team with him. I had killed for him. Maybe I did love the boy I had once thought I knew, but I did not love the real man. I was gripping onto old memories, just like they knew I would. They wanted me to trust him one final time and then he would kill me, knowing that I had been at my very weakest before I died. “Say that again.” He demanded through a hoarse whisper. “No. I don’t love you, Harry. I don’t trust you. I want you to kill me knowing that I despise you, and that killing me won’t end this. I am one of so many Lost Children, who are smart, and who will make a difference in this world.” “You are the one person who can do it, Jax. Because I’m giving you the information, and the chance.” He whispered. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I want to get you out of here.” “Liar!” “When we get out of the front doors, you have to run!” He began his instructions. “Don’t stop. Don’t catch your breath. Don’t look behind you. Don’t trust anyone. If you keep running forward, you’ll get to a bridge. When you reach there, you need to turn right and keep running. That’s when you’ll start to recognise things and you’ll know where you are, okay? You have to go to Gardan’s house tonight, and give him these papers. If he prints it straight away there’s nothing they can do to hurt him. He can make sure everyone knows, and that way they can’t hurt him because everyone would know it was them. You wanted the public on your side, this is your chance. Once everyone knows the truth, everything will change. Do you realise that?” “Harry-” “Come with me. I can get you out of this building, but… I can’t take you any further than that. But you can get out of here and change everything. Just let me help you. Please.” He wiped away his tears aggressively, wanting to hold my eye contact because he desperately wanted to gain my trust again. The only the thing that allowed me to even consider that, was the thought that I had absolutely nothing to lose. Even if he was fooling me, I would die either way. And if he wasn’t, this was my one and only chance not to just to get out of there, and survive, but to make a change. “Please take my hand.” He whispered urgently. I glanced to his fingers, the way they were jarred open waiting for my own to slot between them, the trembles that were working their way from the very tips of his fingers and then pulsating through his entire body. It may have been idiotic, to place my trust in him once more, to place my hand in his. But I did it anyway. He pulled me up to my feet, but I collapsed again almost instantly, the limbs no longer accustom to the weight of my own body, crashing down onto my knees and tightening my grip around his hand. I almost started crying again, because it was a reminder how long I had been trapped there, and how weak it had made me, and the fact it was his fault. “You need to eat something.” He gasped, crouching back down and helping to readjust my weak frame. “No, I need to get out of here. I need to get away from you.” “Jax-” “Help me up. Now.” I think one of the reasons I felt as though, maybe on some level, he was still on my side, was the fact that he was still calling me Jax. Pete Banning had refused to take that as my name, calling me Wendy no matter how much I fought it. I believed that if Harry was fully on his side, he’d be calling me Wendy too, addressing me by what they’d said was my true name. It didn’t just feel like it was out of habit, that he was still calling me Jax, more like a conscious decision to call me by the name that I had chosen for myself. And he did seem truly hurt by the way I was dealing with him. “Do you have the strength to do this?” He asked, concerned. I picked the envelope he had given me back off the floor, forcing myself up to my feet, where after a second, smaller tumble, I managed to stay upright. He looked so worried about me, it only made my anger grow, simply reminding me of the fake concern he'd conjured before. “You best fucking prove me wrong.” I grumbled, pulling my hand out of his once I was feeling sturdy enough to carry myself. He nodded, still looking like he wanted to aid me in some way, but noting my reluctance to have any kind of contact with him, so he just moved towards the door. He opened it slowly, pushing his head out of the small gap he’d created to look down the corridor and check that we were safe to exit the room. “C’mon.” He whispered, ushering me out of the room. “We have to be quick.” I went out into the corridor first, wanting to prove that I wasn’t scared of whatever was about to happen, whether it was a trap or not. The truth was, I was utterly terrified. I didn’t feel like I’d fully given him my trust again, and yet at the same time I didn’t want to him to break my trust once more. I wasn’t prepared for the pain it would bring. As quietly as we could, we began walking down the corridors, Harry constantly whipping his head around and checking over his shoulder. We wanted to move with speed and procession, but we also wanted to keep our movements subtle and subdued, almost like we were just floating down the corridors, bringing no attention. “Why are you doing this?” I whispered harshly. Every single noise felt ten times lounder than it should. The sound of our feet slapping against the concrete below us, which when I looked down, was wet, a rusty red colour which could be blamed on the age of the building we were in, but I think I knew it was blood. I think I knew it was the blood of hundreds of Lost Children who had lost their lives between those walls. Every single clatter of the pipes on the ceilings and door closing in the distance sounded as though it was happening just inches from us, and I was stuck battling a thousand different emotions. I was angry, scared, nervous, wary, excited. I was confused and broken. “I thought it’d be easy, y’know? Sleep on the streets for a few nights. Make you trust me. Live like you for a while. I really thought it would be easy, but… It changed me. You changed me.” “Then why did you go ahead with this?” “I tried to talk you out of it! I tried to stop from coming here! I tried.” “You didn’t try hard enough. You could’a told me the truth.” “I know that. I know, but I was scared. I’m still scared.” With good reason. At the very end of the corridor we were walking down, a Krow appeared, stopping central and instantly as soon as he saw the two of us. He was so far down the hallway that if I held my hand up, I could block him entirely from my sight, pretend that he wasn’t there, but even so we both came to an abrupt halt, standing in silence and just looking at him. “Harry? What’re you doing?” He called. “Back.” Harry whispered, taking one slow step before he quickened. “Back back BACK!” And then we were running. In the complete opposite direction to the one we’d been heading, we were running, hearing the Krow shout something about how Harry had broken, clearly trying to pull in the attention of others. I don’t remember the exact moment that my hand found its way back to Harry’s, but I just remember feeling comforted once it was there, always falling a little behind him, but running as fast as my legs would allow, rushing through a building I didn’t know and hoping to get out of it as soon as I could. As we ran, I began hearing more and more voices, and it felt as though they were closing on us, getting nearer and nearer by the second, and I didn’t believe we were getting out of there. I really didn’t. I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder after we’d turned what felt like the hundredth corner, and I saw them, at least seven Krows chasing us. They looked so pleased with themselves. I thought I heard one of them say something about winning a bet, about how they knew Harry would break. Some of them were laughing. This was just another hunt to them. Another sport. Another form of fun. I almost fell as Harry dragged me to my left with no warning, throwing us into a room and slamming the door shut, his shaking hands moving to bolt the door, but I noticed immediately that it wasn’t sturdy. It wasn’t like the room they’d locked me in, which was built purposefully to keep someone confined. That door was bound give-way easily. “Up there!” Harry commanded. Before I could even grasp at where he’d pointed to, he was helping to elevate me up onto a heavy metal box that the room homed, a whirring sound coming from within it. It vibrated slightly as I scrambled on top of it, and it was warm to the touch. “Break the window!” He screeched next. I bolted my head up to the ceiling above me, seeing the small window leading to the outside world, and never before had I so desperately wanted to be on the streets of London again. I missed everything about those boulevards, the outside world. Spending so much time in that building had made me feel like I was being crushed and compressed with the limited air it allowed. I needed to be outside again. I could almost taste the bitter fumes of London’s toxic air and I craved it desperately. Harry was jumping up to join me at my side as I made my first weak attempt at breaking the window above my head, and that’s when the door behind us took its first blow, the bolt keeping it in place rattling aggressively. I tried to break the window again, but I was so weak. It had taken every bit of strength I had to move at all, never mind shatter a window. I couldn’t. Despite the fact he’d held my hand and guided me towards my freedom, I was still shocked when Harry took his fist and smashed the window above our heads, glass raining down on us and digging into his pale skin. But that didn’t stop him from shattering it furthermore, disposing of the bits of glass that had clung to their seal, making my exit as safe as possible. The door shook violently again. “Go GO!” He yelped, practically throwing me upwards. I climbed out of there, and the first thing that I saw was the sun beginning to rise. I wished I had at least a moments time to appreciate that view, and the sense of freedom. I wanted to stare blissfully at the orange hue of the sky, and admire it in a way I never had before. Usually looking at the sunrise was just a way of introducing another day or struggling. The sunrise had only ever been a symbol of the fact that I had no walls or ceilings blocking it from my view. The sunrise had always been a reminder of my sheer loneliness. It was the first time I’d ever appreciated it. The warm glow across my skin felt like liberty. And I didn’t get the chance to take it in. I didn’t get the chance to feel it. I turned around, on my hands and knees as I looked through the gap and down to Harry, whose eyes were wide with wonder, the noise of the door still loud and threatening. “Come with me.” I found myself saying, glancing over his face. “I can’t.” “Harry-” “They will find me, and that will lead them to you.” “Harry, come with me. We will run, we will hide… We’ll do whatever it takes. Come with me. Please.” Maybe he was on the verge of saying yes. Maybe he was on the verge of kissing me again. For a second, I got to see this sparkle of hope and adrenaline in his eyes. But we were too late. As soon as I heard the door open, I reached out to take his hand, hoping to drag him to the outside world with me, where we could run and hide together just like before, but this time there would be no secrets, no lies, just the two of us doing what we did best. He reached back for me, taking my hand for only a second before the gun sounded, the bullet flying through the air, then through his head, then through my arm. Harry’s blood burst across my face as I screamed, pulling up immediately and running, because I knew I didn’t have any other choice. If I didn’t run then, I would die. I was howling, my arm limp as lifeless, feeling the blood draining from me and trying to keep the papers gripped between my fingers, even though the senses and nerves within my entire arm felt like they were withering away. I kept running, crying as I went, and for once, I wasn’t trying to pull my thoughts together and make sense of everything. I wanted my thoughts to dishevel and disperse. I didn’t want to think about what had just happened. I was bleeding profusely, almost sure that the resilience of the bullet had weakened by the time it had reached me, and it was jammed in my arm rather than having flown straight through. I found a strength from somewhere, and it was the fastest I had ever moved, sobbing and immediately trying to erase the memory of what it had been like to literally watch and feel Harry’s life being taken so pugnaciously. It had ended, within a split second, and I had his blood on my face as proof. I looked back over my shoulder, seeing that one too many Krows had tried to crawl from the small window space at the same time, cutting themselves in the process and becoming stuck in their attempts. As soon as I saw I’d reached the end of the roof, I jumped without a second thought, falling through the air and landing on my injured arm. I screamed and groaned as I rolled on the floor, trying to gather myself and find the ability to move again, but it took some time. It took more time than I had. Eventually, I stumbled back up to my feet, wrapping my free hand around the bullet wound on my other arm, hoping to hold back some of the blood, which had already travelled and was dripping from the folder that Harry had given me. Those papers contained the key to my freedom, and I knew that was the only thing that kept me going. So I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran, doing exactly as Harry has instructed, following his vague directions but knowing London so well, I didn’t any more than that. I didn’t stop to catch my breath. I didn’t look back. I didn’t falter once. I ran.

[allyinthekeyofx]

Under the influence 1/1

This is what happens when I have late night conversations with @scully-loves-ruthie and we find epic gifs that just leave us howling.  This also features the prompt ‘I think you need stitches’ from @frangipanidownunder and  ‘Are you trying to flirt? Because you’re embarrassing yourself’ from anon.  It’s just ridiculous fluff but I promised @frizzyhairedbitch85 some fluff so here it is. @today-in-fic

It’s fair to say I have seen Mulder in some fairly compromising situations during our long and chequered partnership and while occasionally his actions have left me mildly bemused as to how to proceed, the sight of my partner - a law enforcement officer no less - standing practically naked at the dessert table surrounded by an assortment of senior citizens who are staring with mouths agape as he happily washes his face with the warm brown liquid chocolate that is streaming from the fountain that is the table’s central attraction is a fucking new one on me.

But I should probably start at the beginning.

We found ourselves ensconced in this mid-size town at the edge of nowhere a few days ago, the reports of an apparition of the spectral peeping Tom variety terrorising the young female population had piqued Mulder’s interest although I’m still not completely convinced exactly which part of the case had held such appeal to him that it necessitated a flight across country before the ink had even dried on the 302. 

Anyhow, we made the trip down, engaged in a couple of fruitless stake-outs while Mulder feigned disinterest as Suzie or Sharon or whatever the hell her name was, eagerly volunteered to be used as bait for the ghostly pervert and made a great show of displaying her not insignificant assets from behind the relative safety of her bedroom window.  And yes, I had been pissed by the whole thing, especially since Mulder was lapping it up like a dehydrated hound dog thrown into a pond and told to have at it.

Not that I’m jealous.

I just couldn’t really see the point.

As it turned out I was dead right, because when finally Suzie/Sharon’s impressive D cups drew the perpetrator to her window like a moth to a flame, he turned out to be, not in fact even remotely paranormal, but rather the local high-school computer nerd - a bespectacled sickly looking kid named Ralphie - who quite literally fell into our hands when the shock of finding us beneath him sent him plummeting from the tree he had scaled to land squarely on top of Mulder who didn’t quite get out of the way in time.

It took me a couple of minutes to disentangle him from my partner and it was only when I had him cuffed and down on his scrawny chino-clad knees that it began to dawn on me that Mulder was actually still on the floor and not making too much of an effort to get up.

Closer inspection revealed a nasty gash just below his rib cage and a large bruise that was blossoming rapidly slightly above it.  Exactly what had caused it remained a mystery until I noticed the metal pocket protector complete with broken biros lying on the floor beside him.  Oh yeah, I couldn’t wait to explain that one to Skinner in our report because let’s face it, only Mulder could sustain a cracked rib and 3 inch slice from such an innocent nerdish object.  

But as it turned out, that part of my report would be a hell of a lot easier than what came later. 

**********

The call had dragged me from a fairly exhausted sleep having spent much of last night with a whiney Mulder in the local ER.  In no way was his injury deemed serious enough to bypass the triage system and, fine upstanding federal agent or not, he had to wait his turn just like everyone else.  We had barely exchanged half a dozen words, mostly because there was nothing much to say other than ‘I told you so’ and since he was wearing his kicked-puppy face that such a promising case had literally fallen in on itself, I just didn’t have the heart.  Not to mention every time I made an attempt at conversation, he tried to persuade me that he was fine and could we not just go back to the hotel and stick a band aid over the still bleeding wound that now had a pressure dressing firmly applied to it beneath his bloodied shirt?  So eventually, after my patience finally ran out, I ripped the dressing off and watched as the blood welled up once again to emphasise my point, ignoring the strangled whelp my action elicited and tried to keep the sarcasm to an acceptable level.

“I think you need stitches.  Now will you give it a rest for five minutes or I swear I will grab a suture kit and do it myself….without pain relief.”

We didn’t really speak much after that.  He just shot me a wounded look and went back to being the stoical man-baby I know so well.  I was just grateful for the peace and quiet to be honest and I felt not one iota of guilt because the end more than justified the means.

We finally got back to the hotel at around 10am and my attitude toward Mulder had softened somewhat, not least because I knew his damaged rib was giving him hell and the pain relief administered in the ER was beginning to wear off.  He needed food, he needed pills and he needed rest and since I was now feeling a little guilty at my harsh treatment of him I was determined he should get all three before I even thought about getting some sleep myself.

Finally though, I had collapsed gratefully atop my own bed, the sounds of Mulder’s vicodin-induced coma snores from the adjoining room strangely comforting as I let sleep finally claim me.

Until of course the phone began to ring and I bolted upright at the shock of it and at the same time wondering who would be calling me on the hotel’s internal phone system.

As it turned out, the voice on the other end of the line belonged to the hotel manager, who, in a tone that hovered somewhere between vaguely apologetic and absolute panic, asked if I could please come and collect my partner from the ballroom where a ruby anniversary celebration was taking place because he was causing quite a stir.

And so here I am, my feet literally nailed to the floor at the sight before me of Mulder, clad only in his jersey boxers and - bizarrely - one sock and shoe standing in front of that chocolate fountain with a dreamy smile on his face and liquid chocolate dripping messily onto his bare chest.

Now ok, I can’t deny that it is kind of an arresting sight, I mean Fox Mulder is a beautiful animal and under different circumstances I would probably relish the thought of a chocolate coated version, but by the way he is gently swaying from side to side it is clear that he isn’t exactly quite himself and all the more apparent when he finally catches sight of me and his teeth suddenly become visible amidst the glistening gloop as his face is almost split in two by the intensity of his grin.

“Sculllllaaaaayyyyy……I’m at a partaaaayyyy..”

His pupils are huge.

Fuck.  

“Mulder….look at me…how many vicodin did you take?”

That grin again

“Vicoooooooodinnnnnnnaaaaaninnnnnnnaaaaaninnnnnnnnn”

I make a grab of his hand and quickly place my index finger against his pulse point, releasing a relieved breath when it appears to be within normal range, and I am suddenly conscious of the stunned expressions on the elderly people who are surrounding us.

“I’m so sorry about this….he um….he got injured yesterday and I think he…um is having a reaction to the pain medication….and I probably… I need to get him back to bed to sleep it off”

And then he is right there in my face, all staring eyes and warm chocolate face, the grin replaced with that same dreamy smile of earlier.  His lips close enough that when he speaks, puffs of air stir the tendrils of hair that have escaped the messy ponytail I had pulled it into before hastily exiting my room in search of the ballroom and my errant partner.

“Are you trying to flirt with me Dana Scully?  Because you are embara…….embarratsi…..embrata……emmmmbarrra….sinnnng yourself.”

I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all, especially since I am trying very hard not to part my lips and taste the chocolate that is now tantalisingly close, the rich scent tickling my olfactory senses because of all the situations I have ever found myself in with this man, this ranks right up there as being one of the most bizarre, especially when he suddenly frowns and inclines his head like a confused labrador.

“Scully?”

He clumsily pokes at his chocolate coated cheek with a single finger.

“I think I’m bleeding.”

*******

He passed out cold just a few minutes ago after, aided by a helpful hotel bellboy, I finally got him back to the room, feeling the heat of embarrassment colour my cheeks as he declared his complete adoration of me over and over to anyone who would listen as we virtually dragged him along the carpeted corridors  and into the elevator.  His final parting words to the bellboy ringing in my ears and inexplicably causing a lump to form in my throat as he lay supine on the bed, eyes mellow as they sought me out.

“She doesn’t believe me..not my doubting Scully……but you believe me don’t you?”

“Sir?  I don’t know… but yeah I guess…”

I hastily pressed a ten dollar bill into his hand - a hell of a tip but I think he earned it and it would pay to have the chocolate stains dry cleaned off his uniform jacket - and literally pushed him out the door.  Mulder though remained oblivious to his departure.

“I love her….my doubting Scully…..love her….so….much….it hurts…hurts…me..she doesn’t bel….lieve  me……”  finally succumbing to the medication that had overtaken him so completely he had closed his eyes and I had watched transfixed as a single tear tracked it’s way down his face, leaving a pale streak of skin visible beneath the mess. 

And when I was sure he was sleeping finally, I had perched on the side of the bed and gently began to wipe the chocolate from him with a washcloth; trying to ignore the rapid beating of my heart and the urge to curl myself around him and never let him go. 

Because I believe him.  I have always believed him.

End

^^^^^^^^  The gif that started this whole ridiculous thing off.

[golddaggers]

Switch

Reader x Kol Mikaelson

(NOT MY GIF)

*requested

Imagine: You had just been transformed into a vampire and commited your first kill, which induced you to turn off your emotions in order to help you cope. Yet, being so close to the Mikaelson family, they would not allow you to stay that way for long. However, despite how hard they try, the only one who manages to break down your walls is Kol Mikaelson.

Warnings: lights descriptions of torture, mostly fluff and swearing. no biggie. 

Word Count: 2503

I fell onto the cold, hard ground, finally realising what I had done. Blood was spilt across my face and my body, proving it was not just some twisted dream fabricated by my mind to punish me for becoming a vampire; no, I had actually killed all those people. Their limp forms were scattered throughout the dark room, their necks broken due to my brutally. A growing pain took over me, leading to a strangled, loud gasp to crawl out of my lips. The guilt was too much for me to overcome it so easily.

“Y/N?” A deep, somehow soft too, male voice cut through the devastating silence. “What happened here?”

“I murdered them.” I managed to blurt out, tears already streaming down my warm, red cheeks. “I was angry, scared, hungry. I-I couldn’t control myself, Kol. I just couldn’t.”

“Oh baby.” He whispered in a soothing tone, one I did not deserve. “I hate to see you like that! It was a mistake. You’re new, it happens.”

“No, no, no. I ripped these people from their lives. I shouldn't… I can’t!”

“Y/N, listen to me!” My eyes were screwed shut, yet, the salty teardrops kept descending, reaching my bottom lip. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Turn it off.” Someone else said, coming from behind Kol. “You don’t have to suffer because of this. Just turn it off.”

“Are you insane, mate?” The tall, brown haired man yelled, obviously mad at the proposition. “She’s not going to do this!”

Damon smirked, tilting his head slightly, whilst graciously leaning against a covered with scarlet blood wall. Although it was a entirely crazy idea, my Salvatore friend had a point. Turning my emotions off could be really helpful, for it would rule out of the game all distractions. It would help me develop as a vampire. Plus, if I experience even one more ounce of this crushing pain I have inside now, I would surely break.  

For one second I felt everything rushing through me, every bit of feeling, like pure energy was flowing inside my veins, and then it was over. I did not feel a thing. Not guilt, not sadness. Absolutely nothing. Solely void was left behind.

“Y/N, please tell me you didn't…”

A bright, wide smile curled my lips, revealing there was nothing that the mighty Mikaelson could do, except enjoy this new side of me.

“I did, honey bunch.” I winked at him, getting back on my own feet. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a few business to solve.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Kol stated, grasping my wrist and forcing me to stay where I was. “And Damon, you better disappear before I have the chance to rip your heart out.”

Those words said, it took less than a split  second for the plain white room to get suddenly crowded. Stefan and Elena went to Damon’s side, gently clutching his arms, assuring he would stay in place; yet, they did not come alone, for Rebekah, Klaus and Elijah rapidly approached their reckless sibling as well. I sighed, starting to get utterly bored from this whole situation.

Klaus cleared his throat, moving one step ahead and shooting a fierce look towards the Salvatores. He was obviously not happy to be seeing this horrific scene.

“Alright, who is going to explain what has happened here​?”

“Why was Kol threatening Damon?” The brown haired doppelgänger quizzed, quirking an eyebrow. “I thought we had decided to call a truce. For Y/N’s sake.”

“He pushed Y/N into turning off her emotions.” The younger Mikaelson brother said, narrowing his eyes and still keeping me under his tight grip. However, even though this dialogue was annoying as hell, I could not care less about what was on the verge of happening. “Is it enough or you fellas need me to find another reason to be mad at the glorious Damon Salvatore?”

“You mean she…” Rebekah’s voice died out before she finished her sentence and her sibling replied with a weak nod. Man, those people were simply pathetic! “Let’s go home, then. We need to get Y/N back as soon as possible.”

Ultimately, I pushed Kol’s hand away from my upper arm and went to the centre of the room, staring each person standing in there. They had quickly formed a circle around me, perhaps thinking they could avoid my escape. Fools.

I chuckled, sustaining their strong glances at me and crossing my arms on my chest.

“Uh, if I may have a say on my own life, I don’t want to turn back on. I’m actually feeling pretty good the way I am.”

“I’m sorry, love, but you have no idea what you want right now.”

“Out of everyone, Klaus, I really thought you would appreciate this new version of me.” Licking my lips, I walked smoothly to where the Hybrid was whilst hearing everyone’s breathing hitch on their respective throats. “I was obviously wrong.”

“No, darling, you were wrong to get closer enough for me to this.”

Then Klaus, piecing his blue eyes on my own, got hold of my neck, his hands soft on the skin he grasped; sharing one last look, he swiftly twisted it, killing me where I stood. Yet, even though darkness engulfed me pretty quickly, I still formed one last thought: the blond Hybrid was totally right.

The room I woke up to was bright. And amazingly beautiful. Like it belong to a king. Or a queen. Its walls had a miscellaneous set of colours while the expensive furniture was perfectly positioned, like it had been made to that exact spot. The whole thing was simply perfect. However, whatever amazingness I should have been caught into, it was broken the second I realised I was chained up. Urgh, why couldn’t they just let me go? This is so boring!

“She’s awake.” Rebekah muttered, swinging the tall white doors open. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Oh, hello, munchkin.” An ironic smirk lied carelessly on my lips. “Such a nice day, isn’t it?”

“I definitely hate turned off Y/N.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed, yet, I could still see sadness playing on her gorgeous traits. “Come on. I want to try it first.”

“Poor Rebekah, always trying to save the ones she loves.” I said, staring at her emotionlessly. It was odd, though, for the memories of our friendship were still fresh in my mind.  I was not able to care, though. “Don’t you get tired?”

The blonde soaked a small blade in a transparent, thin liquid, right before she dug it into me. I could sense the stinging pain, yet, it was not enough. I smiled faintly at her failed attempt to flip the switch back on.

“Try harder, Bekah!” It was teasing. Oldest trick in the world to get people mad. The ones who cared, anyway. “Come on! Fight for me.”

“God, you are such a spoilt brat!” The original snarled, burying the knife deep within my flesh. “Why don’t you obey, for once, the elders?”

“Enough, sister.” Klaus put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her to go any further. “Let me handle it. I might have a better chance.”

“Uh, I feel so especial! The mighty Hybrid caring for me.” A maniac smile changed my traits, giving it a crazy gleam, as he took his sister’s place, removing the blade afterwards. “Well, I should, shouldn’t I? I don’t. I feel nothing. Or does boredom count?”

“Look at me, Y/N.” I raised my chin, defying him by fixating my eyesight on his. “Now pay attention: you are loved. By everyone in this family. We would risk everything for you. Do anything. You’re a Mikaelson just as much as I am. Why don’t you try for us? Me, Rebekah, Elijah, Kol…”

“Really, Niklaus? That’s the trick you are using? Trying to make me feel like I belong?”

“You do belong, Y/N.” He stroke my cheek, his slim fingers tracing my cheekbones. “You are family. Come back to your family.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’ll break me.”

Klaus allowed a tired exhale to slip, shaking his head. I could bet he thought this was going to be easy: just appeal to her loyalty towards her family and she’ll be right back on track. Not exactly, Nik. I bit my bottom lip to avoid a sneer laugh. .

“Don’t make it so difficult, sweetheart.”

“I wouldn’t if you just let me go.”

“You see, darling, that’s not happening. You either flip back on or flip back on. There’s no other possibility.”

“Now what is it? Rage? Or is it pity? Doesn’t matter. It won’t do the trick, Niklaus.”

My last remark had done it for the Hybrid, because the anger within his irises announced what he was going to do next: snap my neck. For the second time. It must be my lucky day.

Simply marvellous!

“Are you awake now, love?” Someone questioned, tenderly massaging my arms, bringing me to a rather spinning reality. I blinked quickly, adjusting to the new found darkness. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine. Perfectly fine.” My voice sounded hoarse, probably due to the hours I spent “asleep”.”I imagined you would be their last resource. The reckless Mikaelson. My boyfriend, or is it ex? I don’t quite know.”

“Oh dear, it’s going to take a lot more than a humanity switch off for you to get rid of me.” He chuckled, bitterly. “I didn’t come here to convince you that this is wrong. I’m afraid you already are aware of it.”

“Then what?” I whispered, fighting against the tiredness. It was getting harder and harder to not feel anything. The emotions were scraping the walls of my head, crawling back to where they belonged. Nevertheless, I would not allow them to surface it. No. Never. “What do you want, mighty Mikaelson? Torture me some more? See if you, out of everyone, can make me flip back on?”  

“Nah, I just want to talk to you.”

“Care to be more specific, sweetheart?”

“I want to tell you a story.” He clarified in a smooth tone, his lips dangerously close to mine. His mint scented breath fanning all over my face, making me want to kiss him, to taste that mouth. Urgh. “About a relationship I had in the past.”

“Oh, I see. You do want to bore to death.”

“Quit being a brat and listen!”

“Fine.” A soft sigh escaped as I nodded, agreeing. “Go on.”

“Before I met you, I was madly in love with this girl called Davina Claire. Damn,  she was perfect! In every way.” Kol paused, swallowing thickly; perhaps he was struggling with the memories of his old ex girlfriend. “However, when she brought me back to life, it came with a price. I was cursed with an unbearable thirst. I tried to resist! It was worthless, for in the end, she died by my hand. And, God, it hurt like hell! I mean, I had lost the only thing that had ever made me feel something. I killed the only person that had ever touched my soul.”

“Is this supposed to be touching?”

“Oh come on, I’m not finished.”

“Proceed, then. At least it keeps me distracted from this knife buried in my skin.”

“I beg your pardon.” The brown haired Mikaelson smiled, gently, and pulled the blade off, winning a relieved gasp from me. Klaus must have put in back on to keep my blood flowing. “Now, as I was saying, I had lost everything. My magic. My Davina. Then I was bitten by Marcel and put into a slumber.”

“Didn’t you ever live? All your stories end with you in boxes.” The statement slipped and I widened my eyes, surprised. I did not care, why should I be asking stuff?

“I blame Nik for that, but you are right. My life kind of sucked and with Davina gone, it all became pointless again. That was when you, my tiny witty human, showed up.”

“I’m not tiny. Nor witty. Not even human.”

He laughed, clearly amused.  

“Yes, you’re still tiny and witty. For me anyway. And I love you. So much.”

“Can’t do anything about it.” I shrugged clumsily, still restrained by the chains soaked in vervain. “This is ridiculous, don’t you see? All of you? I won’t get my feelings back.”

Kol, suddenly, cupped my cheeks, his eyes filled with everything mine lacked. It was hard to sustain the intimate exchange of looks, for tears began to well up on that chocolate sea. If I kept staring, I knew I was not going to be able to resist any longer.

“I don’t want to lose you too, Y/N. You’re the only good thing in my life right now and I can’t afford it. I won’t let you destroy yourself because of a reckless mistake. Because I wasn’t around to teach you.”

I chewed my bottom lip, finally caving in and feeling the energy of my emotions flooding back in. All of it. Pain, guilt, rage, love. Love! I had hurt so many people I loved! How dared I say so many hurtful things to them?

Salty teardrops fell down my cheeks with the realisation of the evil I had performed in the time I spent off. No one should forgive me for what I did or said. I was not worthy of it. A cry rumbled in my chest as I absorbed, bit by bit, the enormous acheness from my previous actions.

“Baby?”

“I’m so s-sorry, my love.” Those words came out mingled, stuttered, strangled. I closed my eyes, avoiding the silky, reassuring look I got from my boyfriend when I voiced a coward apology. What good have I done to have someone so sweet to look after me like him? “The pain… It took over me. Made me do things. I thought I was going to break!”

“Hush, sweetheart.” His warm digits silenced me, resting against my mouth delicately. “First let me get you out of these chains.”

“How can you trust me, Kol?”

“We’ve been together for a while now and I got to know your eyes, those sweet Y/E/C eyes, very well. I know when you’re lying.” He broke the iron that held me up, which lead to a clumsily stumble, for I was unable to stand on my feet properly. The brown eyed Mikaelson picked me up, carefully placing me on his toned arms as if I weighed nothing. “Thank you for coming back to me. I don’t what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, Kol.” A goofy sigh slipped. “I will always come back to you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Afterwards, a smirk still enlightening his traits, he stole a kiss from my lips. It was just a peck, yet, it made me feel warmer. Of course my guilt, self loathing, hate, the whole package, remained, nonetheless Kol managed to shake it all off, forcing me to concentrate on the present and, for now, that was all I needed.

[notoriously-blonde]

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] 

The Forgotten, Chapter Five: Haunting 101

Read on AO3 here

[Summary]  Being a ghost isn't very fun, especially when you phase through everything. When you find out that you can manipulate small things, your life gets a little bit more fun.

--------

Marinette remains standing above the scene of Adrien snuggling a purring Plagg, the scene being way too cute to pass up engraving into her mind. After a few seconds she finds that it’s become mostly silent again, a.k.a. She is no longer squealing.

With a pleased smile on her face, she looks a bit closer at the two. Adrien’s blemishes seem to be slightly fainter. Like the black was darker and now it’s just a lighter black, the same with the purple.

Plagg’s blemishes seem to be lighter too. But maybe that’s due to Tikki. Maybe Tikki is helping them both.

Feeling like not all is dark and horrible in this universe, she turns to go try and help Tikki in any way possible.

She floats a few feet before stopping. Master Fu is old. Very old. Don’t older people tend to keep medicine in the bathroom, instead of the kitchen.

Sighing just slightly, she turns around and floats to the bathroom. Luckily, Master Fu left the door open, now she doesn’t have to taste weird wall paper again.

Stopping in the middle of the little bathroom, she realizes that she has no idea how to help Tikki. Her hands are just going to phase through everything. Tikki can’t hear or see her.

Heaving a great sigh, she hangs her head and crouches down. “Ugh!” She half screams, “This is too annoying!”

In her stupor, she misses how Tikki jumps ever so slightly, and whips around to look around the room, her eyes wide.

Deciding that if she isn’t going to be of any help, she might as well go be of no help over by Adrien and just coo over the cuteness of Plagg.

Sighing once again, but this one slightly depressed, she stands from her crouch and spins around to float out of the room, not caring if she floated through something. But sudden movement catches her eye. Stopping dead in her tracks, she slowly looks over to where the movement came from.

And she’s just in time to see a loose square come to a stop from it’s slow swinging.

Cocking her head to the side, she floats over them bends down to examine it, trying to think of any explanation of why it would have been moving. Tikki is clear across the room. So, she couldn’t have caused it. The air vents don’t seem to on in the bathroom at the moment, so no new air circulation. If the vents were on, the square would be moving constantly, seeing as the roll of toilet paper is right next to the vents.

Could she have caused it? It sort of makes sense. She’s the only thing that moved sporadically enough to make anything move. Even if she could make anything move.

It couldn’t hurt to test out a theory, right?

Having nothing better to do, she leans in close, sucking in a breath of air.

No movement from the the square.

She breathes it out in slow, controlled pace.

The square sways ever so slightly.

She gasps. This is good! This is really good!

She huffs out another breathe.

The square moves even more!

She can interact with this world, even if it is in the slightest of ways. It means she isn’t completely gone, and she can come back!

She lets out a celebratory cheer as she straightens up.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind.

Slowly, she turns to Tikki, who is still rummaging around in the medicine cabinet.

A smile creeps it way onto her face. “Oh, this is going to be fun!”

Slowly walking up behind Tikki, she begins to suck in a steady stream of air, making sure to have as much of it in her lungs as possible to make sure this works.

Getting within inches of the still searching Tikki, she holds her breathe, maneuvering to the best position to make this work in her favor.

Once in position, she starts to let out her stored breath in a steady stream. She watches with amusement as one of Tikki’s antenna twitch, not letting up in stream intensity.

After a half a second, Tikki reaches up to scratch at her head, maybe she thinks her head is just itchy?

Another half second later, both her antennae twitch.

Tikki reaches up to settle them.

All the while, Marinette’s smile is reaching further and further across her face, her stream of air coming out in shorter bursts as her laughter begins to bubble out.

Tikki then whips around, one of her paws lifted as to point as something, but her eyes widen as she seems to see nothing.

At this Marinette can’t hold it in any longer and she doubles over laughing.

After a few seconds, she decides she could be of some help, and as she wipes a stray tear, she starts looking through the cabinet, as Tikki slowly turns around, clutching her antennae to her head, her lips set in a thin line.

She just can’t bring herself to feel sorry. Maybe that’s how Chat feels whenever he messes with her.

She finally gets the appeal of doing things like that.

Within seconds, she finds the Tylenol on the very top shelf, Tikki was still rummaging through the middle shelf, though more slowly now. Only using one paw to check the labels.

She reaches up for it, only to have her hands phase through it.

Right, can’t touch anything. She retracts her hand as Tikki starts to get to the end of her search on the middle shelf.

Scrunching her face, she hesitantly reaches out her hand to hover just below Tikki.

Slowly, she starts to raise her hand.

She did not expect to see Tikki slowly being raised by her hand.

She also didn’t expect Tikki not to notice, for when Tikki finally looked up, she saw the bottle of Tylenol and grabs it, before quickly dropping to the counter and uncapping the lid, grabbing a tablet, and darting to the door.

She watches with curiosity as Tikki stops at the door frame, and looks back at the bottle, looking a little more than hesitant to go back to it.

Tikki releases a sigh as she darts back to it, and reads the label on the side, looking for something. She finds what she was looking for and dives into the bottle to get a second tablet, then setting them down on the counter, she recaps the bottle, then quickly sets the bottle back on the second shelf before zipping to the tablets and out the door.

Marinette is left standing in the middle of the room, in Tikki’s metaphorical dust, “...That was weird.” She mutters before floating out the door

Once out the door, Tikki’s much less frantic. Maybe she does feel bad about messing with Tikki. But she had to know if she was imagining things or not! It’s was for scientific purposes. Purposes to get her back!

Nonetheless, she made Tikki feel unsafe. She probably shouldn’t do that again.

That doesn’t mean she can’t try to do other things. Or that she won’t do it again just to remind herself that she isn’t completely gone.

Tikki has dropped the two tablets onto Adrien’s chest, he had fallen asleep again, bless his soul, he deserves that rest.

Floating after Tikki, she stops by Adrien’s side once again. His blemishes seemed even lighter. Same thing with Plagg. They’re still there. But maybe in order for them to heal faster, they had to be together. It makes sense.

Continuing to help Tikki, she follows her into the kitchen. In the kitchen, Tikki stops and looks around, her face scrunched up. It looks like Tikki has no idea where the cups are. Never mind, disposable cups.

While Tikki starts looking through the cupboards for a cup she can easily carry, Marinette starts looking for the paper cups, because they should be light enough for Tikki to carry while full of water, and to test the limits of the things she can potentially manipulate. Plus, they’re disposable. They won’t be missed.

Looking around the dimly lit room, she finds the paper cups close to the kitchen door. She floats over, giving herself a mental pep talk. You can do this! The optimistic side of her brain cheers, you are going to come back, and everything is going to go back to normal!

But what if you can’t even handle a paper cup? The pessimistic pipes up. If you can’t do that, how are you supposed to help get yourself back?

Oh, stick a dumpster sock in it! Shouts her optimistic side, she doesn’t need you!

Harrumph, says her little pessimist, see if I care. It’s not like she’ll be stuck here forever.

The sarcasm was clear in the little she devil’s voice.

It’s okay! Soothes the optimist, don’t listen to her, she’s just jealous. You can do it! I have faith in you!

Somehow, the optimist sounds like a mixture of herself and Tikki, while the pessimist a mixture of herself and Plagg.

She decides to call her little shoulder Angel and Devil, Optinette, and Pessinette, according to their respective personalities.

Looking back at Tikki, she sees that she’s phasing out of one cupboard into the other. It looks like she’s gone through at least three cupboards now.

Smiling at the conversation her little shoulder entities had, she moves toward the cups. Getting close, she taps the side of one of the stacks. And it moves. Slightly. Like, half a millimeter, at the absolute most.

“YES!” She practically shouts, then her hand phases through the stack, half her finger sticking out the other side.

Oooooo… kay… maybe her emotions are tied to her phasing abilities?

Calming herself down, she tries to grab the top of the closest cup, but her hand phases through.

She tries again. But her hand seems to be too stubborn.

Okay, her emotions are definitely a part of it.

Maybe… maybe she also needs to picture herself grabbing the cup, like she does when she’s flying?

So, doing her best to replicate what she did in order to fly, she sets her hand above the cup, and closes her eyes.

Remembering what it felt like to pick up a cup, she rests her hand on the cup. Peeking open one eye, she sees that her hand is resting on the cup.

Feeling her joy spike, she closes her eyes again and continues to remember, grasping and lifting up the cup.

She takes a moment to remind herself that she is holding a cup. She is holding a cup!

Her hand slips slightly, and she takes another calming breath.

She pivots on her heal to the left, ever so slowly.

She stays motionless for a second before sliding an eye open,  

It’s still there! I can grab things! I am not lost to the void for all eternity, forced to watch my friends and family live without me for the rest of their lives.

…She may, possibly, be a little over dramatic about it, but still!

She takes a step away from the stack of cups. A very, very slow step. Her hand is stiff and beginning to become painful. But she pushes forward.

Lifting her other leg to take another step, her hand craps becoming like an unresponsive prosthetic.  the cup slips from her now icy, unmoving fingers.  

As the cup lands on the floor, making a hollow, dull “thunk”, a surprised gasp comes from Tikki’s direction and she sees Tikki phase through a cupboard door and locate the fallen cup. The tiny, red being just narrows her eyes at the cup as she floats toward the cup, raising her tiny paws in defense. Marinette can’t help but giggle at the sight of the barely 2-pound goddess raising her tiny paws in imitated defense, like she’s ready to pummel an akuma into the ground.

Marinette giggles even more when Tikki picks up the cup with a look of wariness still on her face as she inspects the cup.

Still not relenting in wariness, Tikki floats to the kitchen sink backward, casting wary glances all around the kitchen. Her eyes searching for a threat, but not seeing the person who moved with the cup.

As Tikki’s back hits the faucet, Tikki startles a bit, her paws clench the cup tighter, causing the cup to release a plastic-y crinkling that only the plastic cups can make, as she whips around to look at the faucet.

After a second, Tikki releases a relieved sigh but tenses up again. Slowly, she turns around, the cup still in her hands but not held as tight, and her face scrunches up in confusion and caution.

For a few seconds, Marinette stands in the middle of the room, rubbing her still stiff but now slightly moveable hand. She can’t help but hold her breath. Maybe Tikki’s seen me? Had a glimpse of me. Something? Anything!

...but the Universe seems to like to let her get her hopes up before ripping them to shreds.

With a relieved sigh, Tikki turns back to the sink, Marinette releases a disappointed but unsurprised sigh as well, before floating over to float beside the sink. Beside Tikki.

As Marinette gets to Tikki, she sees Tikki place the cup in the sink and try to maneuver it to under the faucet, but her paws fade into nothingness, her arms jerking forward before the solid part of her arms meet the cup.  

“Tikki!” Marinette shouts as she lunges toward the kwami, fully intending to comfort the kwami but her arms only phase through her again.

Stepping back, Marinette watches sadly as Tikki looks completely dumbfounded at her arms, then tearing her gaze to look where her arms meet the cup. She pulls her arms away from the cup, but where her paws used to be, is nothing.

Suddenly, Marinette realizes something, and she jumps back a few centimeters. Tikki’s dealing with what she is currently dealing with, but at a more diluted state. Tikki has no idea what is happening. Or why it’s happening. She’s causing her kwami pain and discomfort. Maybe she should just leave. Find whatever is keeping her tethered here and destroy it, before Tikki is no more.

Her earrings then become colder. Burning her earlobes. Weighing them down. Feeling like a thousand tons. With the earrings, she ca- could transform into ladybug. But they are stuck in her ears now. Lost to the void with her, and she’s unwillingly bringing her kwami with her.

But… They seem to possibly be the only thing tethering her to this world. If she has any chance to return to this world, she needs to keep the earrings with her.

As she reaches up to her earrings, Tikki’s paws return to the world and Tikki tries to grab the cup again, and this time, she’s successful. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Tikki scoots it into position under the faucet. The earrings are cold to the touch. But they also seem to burn her fingers. While also possessing a type of gravity, making it impossible for her to remove her finger from the magical stone stud.

Maybe, if they move fast, they can get her back and return everything to normal. She could stop this.

She must stop this.

With a resolute nod, she decides she is going to do whatever she can to help bring herself back to the world.

The sound of water hitting plastic rips her from her thought. Tikki is waiting by the faucet while the cup is filling with water. When the water nears the top, Tikki pushes against the handle to stop the water, then floats down to it, taking a few deep breaths then lifts it up, like when Marinette gets ready to carry something heavy.

Floating up carefully, Tikki peers around the cup at her paws. Finding nothing wrong, she starts carefully, steadily floating back to Adrien.

Marinette, however, remains standing by the sink, trying to wrap her head around what had just conspired. One) she found out that she can interact with this world, even if it is in the smallest of ways. Two) Tikki is starting to suffer part of what she’s going through, with parts of her tiny body fading into this limbo that has become her life. Three) she can’t interact for very long, otherwise whatever part of her body that was interacting will become stiff and immovable. Four) her earrings are keeping her tethered to the world, making it possible to come back, but her time is running out.

She rubs her earrings. They are the only thing keeping her from fading completely. But they are also the thing that is causing her constant companion to suffer, and potentially meet the same fate as her. Maybe even worse.  

…If she just...

No. No, she can’t think like that. Adrien promised to bring her back and she’s finding is easier to regain hope of coming back to this world. She promised herself that she would find a way to return.

But… the longer they wait, the less time Tikki has and then the Ladybug miraculous will be lost forever, and everything will become unbalanced. The universe will end, because you can’t have a universe without creation.

Straightening from a hunch she didn’t realize she had slumped into; she nods determinedly. She will be brought back. They will not lose her, nor will they loose Tikki or the miraculous.

She will come back to her parents, and she will be hugged by them and she will hug them back. While probably weeping.

Feeling like she can do whatever it takes now, like she is unstoppable, she floats back to the massage room, where Adrien, Plagg, and Tikki are.

Adrien is propping his chest up by his right arm, Plagg nestled in the crook of his neck on the left side, the plastic cup left discarded on the floor beside the futon, and Tikki resting on the arm rest across from Adrien.

They seem to be talking about something important.

Thinking it best not to intrude, and best to try to investigate now how to bring her back, she turns to leave the room, but a flash of green makes her stop. Turning around, she finds Plagg to have opened an eye, staring right into her eyes.

A moment passes, and Plagg nods to her, disguising it as wanting to find a more comfortable position, before closing his eye again.

She just stands there, completely shocked. Her body trembling. Plagg’s seen her. Had looked her in the eyes and nodded to her. Plagg’s seen her!

She closes her eyes, and files that for later. Right now, she has a mission to accomplish. She turns and floats to the waiting room of the massage parlor.

There has been a sort of gravity she hasn’t been able to ignore completely since she found the locked door of her parents’ attic a few days ago. A force that’s been pulling her. Calling her. So, feeling like it’s the right thing to do, she gives into the pull, and lets her body start moving with the gravity.

Whatever is in the attic is important. Something no one should see. And that something is calling to her. It might be the only thing that can bring her back.

Floating through the door and into the street, she lets her mind wander. A smile spreads across her lips as her mind goes Chat Noir, and his adorable obnoxiousness. Maybe he’s felt compelled to go to her, maybe that’s why he’s so flirty with her. Or maybe not. It’s just fuel for their talk later.

Suddenly peace washes over her. She will be okay. She will get through this.

With that, she lets her mind go to white noise.

What would have been a 20-minute walk, if she were in her physical body, turned out to be a mere 2-minute flight.

Being able to not only fly, but phase through people and buildings was a big help. Though, there were a few things that she had seen that had ripped her from her thoughts. She will never be right again from what she had seen.

Shuddering from the thought, she finds herself at the stairs that lead to her room.

Standing there, she can practically feel the force as a tangible hand, pulling her centimeters by centimeters.

Slowly, she starts to lean into the pull, and gradually, she starts gaining momentum.

As she nears the door, the pulling force morphs into a repelling force. But it isn’t enough to stop her movement, as she finds herself being slingshot from the stairs, through the door, and into the attic.

The attic, that was once her room, or maybe never was, seems to be simultaneously calling her and screaming for her to go away. Filling her head with intense headaches.

The walls seem to be radiating a dark aura. Some sort of protectiveness. They seem to be oozing darkness, but it never reaches more than a foot from the wall.

It’s a weird feeling, she’s seemingly being pulled and pushed at the same time, not able to move in any direction but down through the door, or up through the ceiling. Not even able to turn around. Like she’s stuck in an invisible testing tube, with foam surrounding her body.  

With much resistance, she turns around, taking in everything in the room.

Firstly, it’s filled with boxes. The next thing she notices, are the bed frames, picture frames, and Holiday decorations.

It looks nothing like the room she lived in.

The windows are locked, the curtains drawn.

Looking up to the trap door she often used, she finds it locked too.

It’s as if her parents don’t want anyone to find any of this. It’s like they don’t even want to remember any of it anymore.  

Nothing here seems to reveal anything on how to get her back. But the entire room feels weird. Something is hidden here, but she just can’t figure out what.

Turning, and being almost pushed towards the trap door of which she had floated through, she starts floating toward the door. But a blob of bright color catches her attention.

Turning with even more difficulty, like the room was filled with a thick molasses, she sees it, the thing that caught her attention.

It’s a…

Baby crib?

--------

Still being careful of the water in her paws, and just in case her paws decided to spontaneously disappear again, Tikki flies just a little bit faster over to the arm rest by Adrien’s head.

Setting it down, she breathes out a sigh of relief. No water spilt, and her paws didn’t disappear again.

Floating over to Adrien’s face, she pats him gently, and he slides his eyes open.

“I’ve got everything you needed.”

“Thank you, thank you so much... Tikki, was it?” Adrien shifts his weight over to the right and with his left hand, he shifts Plagg to the crook of his neck on the left side. Clearly, he isn’t ready to separate from him yet.

Propping himself up on his right arm, he slowly, because he doesn’t want to disturb Plagg (bless this child’s life), reaches over his shoulder to grab the cup before placing it in his other hand against his side and reaching over for the two tablets.

She floats back to settle down on his leg, she looks to Plagg and his chosen... Adrien, she believes, with concern. The Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous holders have always worked in tandem. One never without the other for long. If one dies in combat or from age, the other finished the combat and retired the miraculous, or followed through entwined destiny. So, to see this kitten go for, what was it, nearly four years without a Ladybug by his side was astounding. From what she remembers, only Heracles managed to do such a feat. But he was also aided by the other miraculous. This boy, he doesn’t even have that luxury. He’s been doing all on his own, with minimal help from Master Fu.

“What?” Adrien’s voice pulls her from her thoughts, but his voice is purely curious, with a hint of amusement.

Such a kind soul. She allows her gaze to grow soft.

“I’ve just been thinking. You know that the Ladybug and Black Cat have always, mostly, worked in tandem, right? One never without the other for long.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” Adrien then sets the cup, probably empty, down on the floor.

“Yes, but have you ever heard of Heracles? Also known as Hercules?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the myths.” Adrien’s head is cocked like the curious kitten he is.

“He was one of Plagg’s kits.” A fond smile spreads across her lips at the memory.

“Oh…”

“You’ve heard of the Black Plague, right?”

“Yeah, it was a disastrous disease that killed millions.”

“Caused by one of Plagg’s kits while fighting a great evil.”

Adrien’s eyes widen at that, and he glances down at the ring sitting on his finger.

“Polio was also caused by a fight by one of Plagg’s kits.”

Adrien slouches down just a bit, his eyes looking up to Tikki in silent question. A question she’s heard many a time. One she’s seen in the eyes of Plagg kits all the time since they found out. ‘If they could cause such devastation, why am I wielding the one thing that can allow it to happen? What’s stopping me?’

She makes sure to turn her smile into one of reassurance.

“Dragons were wreaking havoc on the human race many, many millennia ago, one of Plagg’s wiped them and they’re danger from existence.”

“The great monsters from any mythology were largely eradicated by Plagg’s chosen.”

“Plagg’s chosen can use destruction to cause utmost devastation, but also to bring peace. Most of the time, the devastation came from a noble fight and consequential death of one of Plagg’s kits. His powers are extremely diluted when the miraculous is wielded by the wicked. The ones who do wield it while with wicked intents are cursed.”

“If you have not died within the first year of wearing his miraculous, you are one of the many good ones.”

Adrien slumps again, but this time in relief, then he perked back up to listen to more.

“A more recent one was General Bushwhack over in America,” at that Adrien seemed to snort, “in the 1800’s, He served justice to those who deserved it, and he was merciless while doing it. Once he was ordered to exterminate a village, town, or city, he would leave no one from the place standing. Nor any buildings”

“The most recent was during World War II.” She raises one of her non-existent eyebrows at Adrien’s raised eyebrow. “Do you really believe such a man like Hitler decides to commit suicide?”

Adrien rolls his head to the side in an agreeing manner, then sets his head back upright.

“What does this have to do with the Ladybug miraculous?” Adrien asks.

“All of these were done while the Black Cat was without the Ladybug.” Is Tikki’s response, her voice laced in admiration.

“The Black Plague was initiated upon the death of a Black Cat, which was nearly immediately after they eradicated the foe they were fighting at the time. The Ladybug had been killed mere moments before. They couldn’t find a right fit for the ladybug until about 1350.”

“Same thing with Polio, in 1916. But the right Ladybug wasn’t found until 1953. Of course, at the time, they wouldn’t credit a woman with the vaccine, much less a mysteriously clad woman who hid her face.”

Adrien seemed to roll a hand into a fist. Good, she thinks, he isn’t against powerful women.

“Anyway, this all ties together, I promise. Heracles did many great things without a Ladybug. Many honorable things. Of course, he had to hide why he was so strong and able to do the impossible, so he said he was the Demi-god son of Zeus, a god the civilians of the time worshiped, among others. But he had the help of other miraculous welders. Ones I cannot tell you because I was not active at the time. -“ she raises a paw as Adrien opens his mouth to say something. “But you, you have been doing all of this on your own. Without any help from other miraculous. I believe you could go toe to toe with Heracles himself, and possibly even beat him. I’m sure he is proud of you. Not only Heracles, but all the good past holders of the Black Cat. And Plagg.” Her gaze darts over to her counterpart momentarily, looking for any sign of agreement. She finds her answer when Plagg discretely nods against Adrien’s neck. “ You are truly one of the best, if not the best.”

“...I-wow... thank-“ Adrien’s voice cracks from emotion, his eyes welling up. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. So much to me.”

He reaches out to scratch her head, then to shuffle her to cuddle up with Plagg, shifting him onto his chest once more as he lays back down.

It was probably the kindest thing a Black Cat has done when they were down. Letting her rest with her counterpart while also resting with their kwami.

Her eyes burn slightly with emotion as she lays beside Plagg on Adrien’s chest. She will hold this kit with utmost respect inside her head. She hopes Plagg does too.

“How’s it been going for you and Plagg?” Her voice comes out soft, and wavering. But she can’t help it, this kid is just too good.

“It’s been a bit rough, considering that I can’t purify akuma, so I have to jar up the akuma in special enchanted jars, and Hawkmoth sends out his akuma at the most inconvenient of times, multiple times a week.” Adrien eyes slide closed, but he doesn’t seem to be going to sleep.

“Master has been able to purify a few with some spells, but he just can’t do it fast enough, or efficiently enough.” Adrien continues.

“Oh…” Tikki says somewhat dejectedly,” Wait!” Tikki suddenly perks her head up to look into the eyes of a slightly startled Adrien. “I can purify the akuma! It will take a bit more energy out of me when I do it instead of my welder, but I can still do it faster, and in much larger quantities!”

“That’ll be great!” Adrien seems genuinely happy to get some help. “What do you like to eat? I can get plenty of what you need to recharge.”

“I like chocolate chip cookies, but anything sweet will do.” Tikki says looking happily into Adrien’s eyes, which had softened and started to slide closed again, her own head slowly falling next to Plagg again.

“So, on a completely different note,” Tikki starts after a small pause. “Have you noticed anything weird lately?”

After a short pause, Adrien opens one eye and starts with when it all began. “I’ve been having weird dreams since I became Chat Noir about four years ago, but I can’t remember any details. But, it really all started getting weird a little bit ago. It was the day the weird akuma showed up, about a week ago. I was walking up the steps to school, when I got a splitting headache, then something unsettled me, which always happens when akuma are formed. Eventually, I started going after this weird akuma, it didn’t say anything about the miraculous or what its name was - speaking of which, we need to give it a name - anyway, I took it down quite fast, then I got another pounding headache, and paused for a little bit.” The akuma had nearly gotten away but Tikki didn’t need to know that. “I’ve been getting headaches ever since then, and I often felt like I am forgetting something, but the headache only increases in intensity when I think about it. Then I was getting more and more tired, Plagg too, after akuma attacks. That hasn’t happened ever before.” Adrien pauses as he thinks more. “Then before I woke up, I was having some weird dreams, these ones I still can’t remember, but I do remember how they felt. They didn’t feel like dreams, but... something else. I can’t remember it though.”

“Hmm, that’s…. interesting, but not what I was talking about.” Tikki looks up and smiles just a bit when she watches Adrien flush slightly. “I was thinking more along the lines of things moving on their own, weird noises, and unexplained wind.”

“Oh, no I haven’t. Though I do feel a little colder than usual sometimes.” Adrien explains, then a blurry memory surfaces. “Well, that one time I woke for just a bit, a few hours ago, I think I saw a girl. She was weeping above me. I said something, but I can’t remember.”

“Hmm.” Tikki hums contemplatively. “Well I don’t remember seeing a girl there.”

“Weird” Adrien replies, scrunching up his face in slight confusion and thought

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 30th June 2019

The reason there wasn’t a top 20 ranking today is I have an unwritten rule that if there’s more than three debuts in the top 20, I’ll keep a surprise until I release the chart episode, and, yeah, it’s one of those weeks and I am more tired than I think I’ve ever been writing one of these episodes so if I make mistakes or don’t seem passionate, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get through this as quick as possible, and this episode might even end up a bit late, so I apologise if so.

Top 10

For the seventh week since its debut, Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber are still at the top spot with their drowsy hit “I Don’t Care”, which I still don’t see the appeal in other than starpower.

At number-two, we have our highest of eight overall Top 40 debuts and two top five debuts, “Senorita” by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello, assumingly from Mendes’ newest upcoming third album. It’s also debuted at #2 in the US, blocked by “Old Town Road”, because of course it is. This is his ninth UK Top 40 hit, and his seventh top 10, as well as Cabello’s ninth UK Top 40 hit, and her third Top 10.

At number-three, we have “Vossi Bop” by Stormzy, a spot down from last week.

At number-four, however, up four full spaces from last week, we have Ed Sheeran once again, this time with Chance the Rapper and PNB Rock, for “Cross Me”.

Stormzy has also launched two songs in the top five as his new arrival “Crown” debuts at number-five, becoming his sixteenth UK Top 40 hit and seventh Top 10. We’ll talk more about this song and “Senorita” later.

“Hold Me While You Wait” by Lewis Capaldi is thankfully down two spaces to number-six since last week.

Surprisingly, “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X didn’t rebound as successfully as I figured it would because of the EP release, instead it stays still at number-seven.

“No Guidance” by Chris Brown featuring Drake is down two spaces to number-eight.

The late Avicii’s “SOS” featuring Aloe Blacc is not moving at number-nine.

Finally, Taylor Swift’s debut from last week barely clings onto the top 10 as “You Need to Calm Down” falls five spaces already to #10, but I suppose it’s not as bad as the 11-space loss to #13 in the US.

Climbers

There’s none to speak of, and that’s not even an over-exaggeration really, since there is not a single boost bigger than three spaces up for a song in the top 40, but I guess it’s good to see “Mad Love” by Mabel in the top 15, so that’s something, although it should probably be in the top 10.

Fallers

Well, damn near everything. Let’s sort by genre.

Fallers for pop and “rock” outside of the top 10 with a fall down three spots or more included “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi down three to #14, “Bounce Back” by Little Mix collapsing down seven to #17, “bad guy” by Billie Eilish having a streaming cut down 15 spaces to #19, “Grace” by Lewis Capaldi down five to #22, “3 Nights” by Dominic Fike unfortunately down five to #26, “ME!” by Taylor Swift featuring Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco also in freefall down 12 to #30 and “Mother’s Daughter” by Miley Cyrus down four to #40.

Fallers for EDM under the same criteria include “One Touch” by Jax Jones and Jess Glynne down four to #23, “Piece of Your Heart” by MEDUZA and Goodboys down four to #24 and “Heaven” by the late Avicii featuring Chris Martin down 10 to #38.

Fallers for hip-hop and R&B also under the same criteria include “The London” by Young Thug featuring J. Cole and Travis Scott down five to #29, “OT Bop” by NSG down five to #35, “Shine Girl” by MoStack featuring Stormzy completely disbanding 14 spaces down to #36 and “Location” by Dave featuring Burna Boy down seven to #39, and that’s all.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

The biggest story here is the one I expected the most. “Omerta��� by Drake is completely out of the UK Singles Chart from #33, mostly because it’s inaccessible and only got big briefly because of Drake’s existence and starpower. Other than Drake, our top 40 dropouts are plenty. We have “All Day and Night” by Jax Jones and Martin Solveig presenting EUROPA featuring Madison Beer out from #34, “Giant” by Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man out from #40, “Late Night Feelings” by Mark Ronson featuring Lykke Li is out from #35, “Falling Like the Stars” by James Arthur out from #38, and “Sixteen” by Ellie Goulding out from #27, sadly never reaching a peak of #16. Oh, and Skepta’s two hits are gone, with “Greaze Mode” featuring Nafe Smallz and “What Do You Mean?” featuring Skepta out from #37 and #39 respectively, and because it’s a very busy week, there’s pretty obviously no returning entries, so now it’s time to face the beast.

NEW ARRIVALS

#37 – “Find U Again” – Mark Ronson featuring Camila Cabello

Produced by Mark Ronson and Tame Impala – Peaked at #24 in Ireland

I’m going to be doing this in a slightly different but not optimal setting. I’ll listen to the new arrivals in a room without being chained up to my headphones on a chair but instead draining my thoughts on here with the song out loud. Sorry if I don’t notice any little details because of that but I think I’ll be able to make up what I think of a song with that and I’m boiling so we’ll have a little shake-up of the formula for once, and I’m boiling and exhausted so let’s get through it. Anyway, this is our first of two Cabello features this week, and this one is from the recently-released Late Night Feelings album by Mark Ronson, with this song debuting in the top 40, becoming Ronson’s twelth UK Top 40 and Cabello’s eighth, and well, it’s pretty okay. I’ve never liked Camila’s voice but she’s tamed down here and sounds pretty great in this multi-tracked falsetto, especially over a VERY 90s R&B instrumental (Which by the way is beautiful). The instrumental is very twinkly and incredibly synth-heavy, with a lot of fun groove in the verses, where Camila goes for a pretty quirky delivery that works very well, despite an abrupt and pretty janky drop. The lyrical content is nonexistent, really, but the 808s in the bridge especially deliver that emotion of never being able to cling onto something you previously had, in this case an ex, and while this can be repetitive, and perhaps somewhat undercooked in terms of songwriting, this instrumental is perfectly crafted and Camila stays in her comfort zone, thankfully, so I can forgive a couple lyrical issues. This is pretty damn good, and I’m suddenly much more excited to check out that album – this is much less spacey and actually delivers the mood it intends to, which is the problem I had with the title track weeks before.

#34 – “MEGATRON” – Nicki Minaj

Produced by Pop Wansel – Peaked at #9 in Hungary and #20 in the US

For Nicki Minaj’s damage-control lead single produced by a generic pop executive with no signature style and her 39th(!) UK Top 40 single, I’m expecting a complete trainwreck with no redeemable qualities.

Yup. This is terrible, so much that I almost felt embarrassed listening to it that I had to put Private Session on. The worst thing about this is that it had potential, I do like that pumping sampled guitar riff, but I can’t forgive the badly-mixed snares and incessant nonsense words yelled and stuttering effects that got old in 2010, as well as pretty aggravating and cheap Auto-Tune in the janky pre-chorus, not forgetting the chorus which is not only just “when I’m drinkin’” rhymed several times without an internal rhyme, but it only stops when she decides not to finish her line and awfully segue by a few “brat-dat-dat”s over to the next section of the song. The lyrical content in the miniscule verses that are here, is pretty standard Nicki fare about “clapping on the D”, but watered-down to fit for a radio that will definitely not put this mess in rotation. It doesn’t have a climax, or a bridge other than... a minimal instrumental forcing you to listen to Nicki and it’s just one corny bar repeated with pointless vocal effects filling time. Mrs. Minaj, do you know how a bridge or middle-eight works? The outro is maddening and honestly this whole track is an absolute disasterpiece. I would call it a stretch for it to be encapsulated madness but this really is a ridiculous listen. PNTHN did it better.

#28 – “Mr Sheeen” – Digga D and Russ splash

Produced by Gotcha Bxtch

Digga D, we’ve seen twice before, Russ splash (No, not Russ from the US as someone on Twitter suspected), we’ve seen twice before, and this song title intrigues me. I suspect it’s about Charlie Sheen, and I damn well hope it is, he’s an intriguing man, we need a Charlie Sheen concept album. Somehow I doubt it, and I’m right, it’s about using a gun as a cleaning product.. or a cleaning product as a gun. Probably both, but they’re also cleverly using an extra “E” to avoid copyright infringement. Subtle. Is the song any good? Well, the menacing synth reminds me of more EDM-influenced trap and while monotonous and repetitive, it is intimidating and this instrumental  does build up as it goes. Something isn’t clicking, and I think it’s Russ. Digga D has some decent wordplay and provides most of the content here, handling half the hook and two full verses, which are both pretty good although his flow is often a bit janky to co-operate with the beat, and does sound offbeat at times when the beat’s still developing in the first verse. I feel like it should have been one verse between two choruses instead, then Russ comes in, so structure’s a bit off there. The chorus is also pretty iffy, with a lot of blank space on the beat between Russ’ nasal flows snabbed from his OTHER hits “Gun Lean” and “Keisha & Becky”, and the transition between his verse and his chorus is non-existent and lazy, much like Russ’ second verse which didn’t need to happen. The beat is pretty okay but they have no idea how to approach it. Ideally, I would have no chorus on this song, as it just seems to have screwed up their plans a bit, since the hook is especially rushed. Russ brings nothing to the song at all, so I’d cut him off in an ideal world, but how about make the chorus the intro while the beat’s still building up into the drop, then have Digga D and Russ deliver back-to-back verses, with the hook MAYBE coming back for an outro? That just seems to be a better way to approach it in my opinion, but the song’s not bad on its own and I commend it for that to an extent, it just needs a bit of reworking.

#25 – “Panini” – Lil Nas X

Produced by Take a Daytrip – Peaked at #12 in Canada and Slovakia, and #16 in the US

This is Lil Nas X’s second Top 40 hit since “Old Town Road” in the UK and I’m just going to copy-paste what I said in my review of his (Expectedly) mediocre yet somewhat impressively versatile EP 7 (a light 5/10) and while I have warmed up to it now because of how infectious and short it is, these words still hold up pretty well in terms of my opinion on the song, which is it’s a lazy label-manufactured follow-up.

So, “Old Town Road” is genius because it’s not even two minutes and has so much energy and charisma, as well as being a massive smash hit and also kind of a bop. It worked, so he deleted all of his older music and paid rent off of “Road” and “Road” alone. It’s captivating because of its brevity. How, then, do you ask, is he going to make a song more than two and a half minutes captivating, intriguing, interesting? Answer is, he doesn't. “Panini”, two seconds longer than the original “Old Town Road”, has some pretty bland sloshy trap production, where Lil Nas X, previously seemingly rejecting Auto-Tune on OTR, croons catchy pop-rap choruses that just drones on, with miniscule verses that lead into odd, abrupt emo-rap breakdowns including an unrecognisable interpolation of Nirvana's "In Bloom"? Oh, yeah, and whistling worked the first time, but when it's not Billy Ray, it's not working, and the song ends up not feeling unfinished but definitely missing a third verse or bridge  because it is short as all hell, and adds up to nothing without having that same punch as “Old Town Road”. In conclusion, it’s probably the best Travis Scott reference track I’ve ever heard.

#20 – “Kilos” – Bugzy Malone featuring Aitch

Produced by Swifta Beater and B. Somebody

Bugzy Malone is a pretty respected British rapper out of Manchester, and he’s been bubbling and buzzing on the scene for a while now but he’s just started recently to have all that much chart success, specifically in the Top 40. So, he teams up with newcomer Aitch for a second Top 40 hit for the both of them (Bugzy only having leads, Aitch only having features, coincidentally), a first top 20 hit for the both of them, and both Bugzy and Aitch’s highest-charting song, so it’s clearly one the public has latched onto if the other songs didn’t have enough of it to chart this high. When first putting it on, I knew exactly why, it’s that Latin trap instrumentation, with some pretty plastic brass and surprisingly bouncy Latin guitar that isn’t as stiff as you’d expect, Bugzy Malone delivering an insane verse, with a couple flow switches and story-telling that is unseen from most mainstream rappers, despite an offbeat chorus, detailing his story with a somewhat generic trail but a powerful convincing delivery. Aitch tries to do the same but he’s way too generic with no quirks at all that make him interesting. He’s just listing off typical British hip hop subjects and lines I swear I’ve heard before in one flow and one flow only, and it gets pretty boring, despite his charisma. Thankfully, Bugzy comes back with a short third verse book-ending the story and the beat is incredible, so without Aitch, I’m pretty sure this would have been near-perfect. I like how the chorus and first verse focuses on what they were getting themselves into before the come-up as a hip-hop artist, specifically drug trafficking, Aitch’s is how people react to the come-up, and the final verse is Bugzy celebrating fame by mentioning three-piece suits and such. There’s a nice scale there and I think this is actually pretty good, despite Aitch wasting a lot of time, so it’s a shame he’s on here, it feels like wasted potential, although I understand the purpose of his performance here, it doesn’t come close to Bugzy’s bars and feels a bit lacklustre. Congratulations on your hit though, guys, especially Swifta Beater and B. Somebody because this slaps hard.

#19 – “Mocking It” – JAY1

Produced by Nastylgia

Now for this dude again. God, I hated that last Top 20 hit he had, “Your Mrs”, and I haven’t heard anything since, so I was dreading this, and yeah, it’s pretty bad. If you can even dignify the instrumental as a “beat”, then the beat is pretty awful. It’s an off-beat synth bleep sound and a sub-bass, except this time it’s distorted and there’s some badly-mixed percussion, much like a DJ Mustard beat with all of the charm cut out. This sounds just like “Your Mrs”... except it’s good. See, Nastylgia knows how to sound intimidating with minimalist beats, and how to elevate a song’s energy, while the producer for “Your Mrs”, Coolie was a bit of a hack, so no matter what JAY1 says, this song will be better because it has the basics on how to make an interesting beat, which his last hit lacks. The beat here is actually pretty good because of its minimalism which is intimidating yet bouncy because of the 808s having so much fun in the background. However, once that gets boring, there’s a rapid-fire 808 jab until the beat suddenly picks up some pace, with Jay here switching up his flow for the third time in the first 30 minutes for the chorus, in a more melodic flow without autotune and instead sounding pretty mocking as the percussion just goes at it, but then the climax isn’t there yet? Maybe the basics aren’t here, because immediately after there isn’t a big climax, instead a post-chorus without percussion the beat cuts off and then returns in normal form, with odd 808-jab transitions excusing making the beat sound smoothly cobbled together. Then an incredibly repetitive bridge initiates with dumb chipmunk vocals, and there’s a final post-chorus with some female moaning, but then a fourth (or fifth?) freaking verse, where a cheap flute comes in and everyone’s confused. Yeah, I overestimated this guy because this still kind of sucks, I can see improvement though, but the beat work (Yes, I am nitpicking this a lot) really bothers me, especially since nothing Jay says warrants the experimentation or menace this beat tries to give him

#5 – “Crown” – Stormzy

Produced by Jimmy Napes and MJ Cole

Now it’s time for what are supposed to be the “big” debuts this week, but honestly I don’t see much in these two songs that require this much attention and success other than starpower. First, we have a non-explicit song from rapper Stormzy, and since I’m quite a fan I checked this out when it was first released a week or two ago, and while some may see the all-singing route as new ground for Stormz, this should have been pretty evident from the gospel-tinged tracks on Gang Signs & Prayer, and this has of course an influence from that genre but this is mostly reminiscent of a lot of British pop and soft rock from people like Ed Sheeran and... Lewis Capaldi. In fact, it sounds like one of Tinie Tempah’s pop crossover singles from back in 2010, like that one with Eric Turner, but this rendition is so much better and more genuine, with the gentle vintage lo-fi piano loop providing Stormzy’s surpisingly good singing voice (Of course it’s not amazing but it’s not supposed to be incredible, and it fulfils its purpose). The piano loop is used in a completely different way when it’s flipped to a hip-hop beat, which hilariously is just a clean brag-rap for the kiddies, but it works well, as he acknowledges “heavy is the head that wears the crown” and how hypocritical this verse is in comparison to the soulful chorus. I’d love to see this in an album context, as I’m curious to who is being honest here, the hardcore rapper or the gospel (Children’s?) choir. The lyrics are also pretty funny, the line ending off the first verse in particular. The climax of strings and vocal samples and an 808 are a great way of ending the chorus, and the elevation of the verses with gospel vocalising is pretty great. This is excellent, I’m excited to see where this goes, success-wise and in the album, and I’m happy this is here.

#2 – “Senorita” – Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello

Produced by watt, benny blanco and Cashmere Cat – Peaked at #1 in Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway and Slovakia, and #2 in the US

Okay, this is kind of disappointing. I hated the last Mendes single, which I thought was overproduced trite without any sense of passion, so surely a stripped-back seductive Latin song would be up my street and what I would want out of Mendes’ upcoming album, but no, this really is undercooked. I don’t have much to say, but the slick guitar here, despite somewhat bouncy with the finger-snaps, really doesn’t work as a backing against Camila’s squealing, and Mendes’ falsetto doesn’t sound great here either, with a surprising lack of chemistry between them. The chorus is undercooked in that it’s filled to the brim with “la, la, la” repetitions that get on my nerves instead of all that much interesting lyrical content and substance. I mean, I should look at the verses for that and I shouldn’t care about the poetic structure of a pop song, but I can’t help but feel this chorus, although incredibly catchy, is a very rushed part of the song. I don’t mind this, but it does feel very lightweight, especially for Camila, both of whose vocals sound great on the outro when it’s just subtly Auto-Tuned riffing. The song itself is just about an obsessive, sensual love, that they can’t take themselves away from. Apart from seemingly being released in pretty rushed form to fend off “Does Shawn Mendes is gay?” rumours, I can’t really get too mad at this, but I feel it could have been a lot better.

Conclusion

Best of the Week goes to Stormzy, no question, for “Crown”, with Honourable Mention going to Camila Cabello and Mark Ronson for “Find U Again”. Worst of the Week, I’m left with a lot of options, but there’s no way in hell it’s going to anyone but Nicki Minaj for “MEGATRON”, God, that’s a trashy song. Dishonourable Mention goes to JAY1 for “Mocking It”, but that’s all I have to say really about this week. Follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank for more musical ramblings and I’ll see you next week!

[redstarfiction-blog]

Mi Amore.

A wee fic surrounding Jamie at Leoch trying to come to terms with his feelings for the Sassenach ... *a bit fluffy but based around book Jamie, a much more tortured soul than show Jamie - because, well, angst is where I dwell most. *grins* Thank you for reading guys xxx

Jamie looked over his shoulder and smiled to himself at the empty wood, there had been a few lads following him for the last couple of miles but they had finally dropped off. He didn’t think they meant him any real harm but he was tired and irritable and knew better than to get into a fight in his first week back at Leoch – it would cause more aggravation than it was worth.

His father had often counselled him that where possible it was always better to turn the other cheek and with his arm still sore and the knife wound healing, Jamie felt it was as good a time as any to heed his advice.

Besides, even if they meant to be friendly, Jamie was in no mood for company. He was in a turmoil he had not expected to be in and needed time alone to think about what it was he meant to do about it. Running a hand through his hair and grimacing at the short feel of it, still strange after a lifetime of wearing it long, he stalked over to the stream he had been heading for and, after one final check that he was alone, squinted over the edge of the back at the watery reflection of his face.

Jamie had long ago relinquished his claim on the vanity which is the right of all young people. He knew he was fair in appearance and that blue eyes and a charming smile had their advantages, but he also knew that the scars on his back would forever mark him as a felon and that no matter how sweetly he smiled, he had only to remove his shirt and the world would know his humiliation.

When the flogging had finished he had been too far gone to form coherent thought and when he was finally able to think again, the pain made him wish for oblivion and he had not spared a thought to what it might look like. Then, as he healed, his heart lay burdened with the death of his father and the shame of his sister’s acquiescence to that beast, Randall and the thick, crusted lines of scabbing on his back were trivial matters in comparison. But he minded the marks now and guarded their secret from strangers with a fastidiousness that he had not known he possessed.

Jamie stripped off and stepped into the water, squeaking as the cold lapped at his thighs and chilled his feet. Without hesitation he dropped to a squat, submerging himself to the throat and hissing through his teeth until he began to adjust to the temperature.

He washed quickly but thoroughly with the soap he had taken from Mrs Fitz and was about to get out when another urge took him. Using the soft earth of the river bank to push outwards with his foot, he floated in the water on his back, gently moving his arms and legs to keep from drifting down stream. Now that he was less aware of its chill, the water felt glorious on his skin and as he peered up at the blue sky through gently lowered lashes, Jamie felt the tension begin to leave his body. If he concentrated hard, he found that he could carefully nudge aside the fears that plagued his waking moments and that he could trick himself into believing that he had no greater concern than tracking the progress of the lazy clouds above.

It felt like years since he had last been able to switch off his cognizance and linger in vacancy. As his mind cleared images floated through and despite his best efforts, he could not shake off one particular image that he had no business thinking of and the cause of his latest calamity. Amber eyes set above a haughty wee nose and a full lipped mouth that was capable of the sweetest smiles and the foulest curses; hair the colour of dark honey in one light and rich soil after a spring rain in another and ears that stuck out just the tiniest bit.  

Jamie had kissed a few women and flirted with the idea of courting one or two, but never seriously. He might one day marry a lass but he had found none that made him wish to hurry toward that future and the necessity of facing the heartache of his past to make a home.

Then Claire had come into his life, or maybe he had come into hers, either way they had come to know each other. She had mended his shoulder, patched up his wounds and she had called him many foul and unexpected names in the process. She had ridden with him, wrapped in his plaid like an angry cat brought in from the rain and gradually allowed herself to recline against his chest in exhaustion through the dark night on the road to Leoch and Jamie had allowed himself to feel a fondness for her. He liked that she swore like a sailor and that she sneered at the threats of retribution from the clansmen. She reminded him of his sister in that way. Sorrow stabbed between Jamie’s ribs and momentarily stole his breath and for a second he lost his balance on the water and floundered. He pushed the thought of Jenny away, righting himself on the bobbing surface.

When they had been accepted into the castle, bone tired and sore, he had found that his bed held no appeal to him. He wanted to be around Claire, to shield her from prying eyes and wagging tongues and to see the wee wisps of hair curl about her face in the riotous way of theirs as she spoke and the flash of defiance in those golden hawk eyes. He felt a responsibility for her, she had been thrust into his care on the ride and although she was wary of him, there was a fragile sort of trust between them.

Also they had more in common than she realised, they were both prisoners of the Mackenzie without the need for shackles as neither of them had anywhere else they could safely go. So he had sought her out and found her, still in the dirty shift she had been wearing in the woods, the light of the fire making her more beautiful than he knew any woman had the power to become. Jamie felt his chest swell at the memory, the wet hair rising out of the water allowing the air to pucker the skin over his ribs.

When she asked to see his shoulder he had wished for nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole, for if he could disappear he would never have to see the pity and revulsion in her eyes when she saw his ruined back, nor feel the air thrum around the hesitation of her sure fingers as she avoided touching him.

But she had insisted and the ground had not opened and so he had removed his shirt and sat, rigid and obedient, his eyes closed and fists lightly curled to avoid her seeing the trembling of his fingers as she moved behind him. The hitch in her breath had been slight and delicate, as if she had simply seen an acquaintance unexpectedly in the street, and then before he could say anything her fingers had descended upon him, as certain and warm as the summer sun. The tone of her voice let him know she was sorry for the marks, but she did not pity him and the fondness of the night before curled around Jamie’s heart, like a delicate vine of Bittersweet climbing a garden wall.

But it was as she wept in his arms that Jamie felt the small part of him that he could only presume was his soul pull toward her. He remembered the feel of her trembling against him, her breathing ragged and wet against his neck.

Jamie played the moment over again in his head and at the memory of her arms around his neck, her hair cascading down his own shoulder; his body stirred and Jamie found that he could no longer concentrate on the sky above him, his world had shrunk to the single point of Claire and there was nothing the clouds could do for that. He remembered the smell of her, rain and dirt and something slightly floral, and the feel of her arse on his lap, the thin shift doing nothing to disguise her curves. He thought of her lips, parted in a silent ‘O’ of embarrassment as she came back to herself and reclaimed her dignity. The touch of her fingertips on his hand …

Jamie stood up in the water, his face burning and heart still pounding. He waded back to the bank and washed again, using the soap more roughly this time, and climbed hastily out of the stream. As he dressed Claire came back to him. His ardour, the evidence of which was already lost in the water below, was his own affair and not something that he owed explanation for nor something that he ought to feel ashamed of. But the need to be around her and the constant thought of her … it was too much and it was foolish.

Sighing, he snatched up his sporran and was about to stuff the cake of soap inside it, but the thought of handing it back to Mrs Fitz after he had used it to wash away his … Jamie felt his face flame afresh and hurled the little bar into the stream without second thought. He would simply tell her he had dropped it. Better she think him careless than a fiend.

Walking back toward the castle, his hair drying in soft curls and waves, catching the occasional breeze and lifting around his head like a red halo, he considered his options. He could tell Claire that he had feelings for her, the worst she could do was reject him and then he would be able to accept her decision with grace and move on. Aye, that was a good plan. The image of himself, bowing low and kissing her hand before taking his leave of her, head held high resplendent in his heart break had a certain romantic quality to it that Jamie rather fancied, although at twenty-three he liked to think he had outgrown such things.

Then again, what if she accepted his advances? The thought struck him suddenly and he stopped dead in his tracks. What if she welcomed him and wished to build a life with him? His mouth went dry and he made a strange choking sound at the back of his throat as anxious bile rose from his gut.

He had nothing to offer her. He was the rightful Laird of Broch Tuarach and yet he could not possibly return home and claim his title – not with the price on his head and Claire surely deserved better than an outlaw. How would he feed her? What if they had a bairn? He had no way of providing for them and staying with the Mackenzie’s was dangerous enough now, if he were married with children they would be his weakness and the target for his uncles to use … No. No it was unthinkable and Jamie would not risk it, he would not risk his Sassenach. Better that he leave her alone, no matter what it cost him to do it, he had to leave Claire alone.

For a moment, in the shadow of the huge old trees all around him, Jamie felt his heart shy from the sorrow of his minds realisations but like all moments, it passed and as it did he braced himself and let out a steadying breath. Claire needed a friend and he could offer her that at least. Je Suis Prest.  

[robchallismusic]

Evolution of the Recording Industry

Development of the UK Recording Industry

In the early 1950’s, the recording industry introduced LP’s which instantly became popular, and everyone wanted to get their hands on one. This was an exciting new way of listening to music, and despite it being more expensive than the older 45-rpm discs, it was able to hold more than 1 single on and could hold an entire album’s worth of music on. With the success of the LP, the main focus was suddenly to have a high quality sounding recording rather than a better performance, as it sounded fresh and clear.

Transistor radios were introduced around 1955, which made it appealing to young people as they could buy their own music system and listen to their own music freely. This gave young people freedom to listen to music in a way they had never heard before.

In 1962, Philips introduced a new and cheaper alternative which was a tape cassette. This meant that the new equipment of the tape recorder allowed artists to edit any mistakes they had made during a recording session, as the recording engineer could replace the sound of the mistake.

In 1965, Ford introduced a new 8-track system which grew extremely popular and had over a third of the market of recorded music. Due to all these new ways of listening to music, record companies began slowing down on their LP releases to concentrate on the cassette. This however, was then the Compact Disk was introduced. Also known as the CD, in 1982, the Philips company teamed up with sony to develop these disks which were lasered rather than recorded onto. These were easier to sell and cheaper than the other options too. This took storm and since the 1980’s, had become the most popular physical way of listening to music.

With this came the release of MP3’s and downloading. In the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, the idea of downloading music directly to your device was more appealing. It became more popular as it was digital rather than physical, so you didn’t have to go out of your way to go out and buy a physical copy. As this grew more popular, streaming was introduced towards the end of the 2000’s, and is now the most popular way of listening to music. Streaming is a way in which you can listen to music online, or even offline, and have every piece of music available for a very small price. This obviously was very appealing to the market, and has become a global success.

Recording, Releasing, Distribution and Promotion of Music in the UK Since 2000

The growth of the internet has been the biggest thing to have developed and changed the music industry. Throughout the early years of the 2000’s, the internet had only been used in ways that are now seen as miniscule. The development of the internet has caused the industry to move from a physical age of music, to a digital age of music. Physical copies of music are now not as popular due to the rise of the internet. The internet has improved easy access to music, however has caused a lack of passion as it is now all mainly free due to illegal downloading and streaming. With websites such as YouTube, music is at your fingertips, and apps such as spotify, allows you to listen to music wherever you are, even now offline with the power that the internet has. The internet has caused a cultural shift between musicians and music listeners, as musicians are now using social media and video uploading sites to promote themselves and portray their music and individuality freely. The use of these websites make it incredibly easy for people to be discovered too because they are so easy to find, all you have to do is come across a video and they could be signed, however due to a rise of popularity of this self promotion, there is so much being shared that is is hard to discover real talent as they need to filter through these people.

Music promotion and marketing has developed since 2000 drastically. These changes are more evident than most because there is solid evidence to prove the change of marketing techniques. The way in which music was promoted in the early 00’s was by relying on radios to play your music. This was mainly the only way in which some people could hear their favourite songs, and as TV’s were just coming into more popularity, radio was still another popular option for other people. Another way in which music promo used to be different was distributing music magazines for different ages and genres. This was an extremely important part of promotion because magazines were at a high selling point around this time, and it could appeal to people of all ages, based on their designs and the way in which they written. As the power of television increased, the music industry shifted to promoting music on television by broadcasting adverts for specific artists, and allowing artists to perform on prime television shows such as the X Factor, to promote their latest single or album. Although television is still an important role for promotion, social media is definitely the most popular way to promote music now. Everyone is on social media, so the music industry took this as an opportunity to broadcast new music or new artists to people of all ages, and market specifically to certain areas or locations. Social media is an extremely powerful platform, and although charts used to be popular, the desire to get a number 1 is not as rewarding, as issues such as streaming has created less sales and now makes it easier to chart.

New mobile technologies have changed the way the music industry have been able to record, release, distribute and promote music in the UK. New smartphones such as the iPhone and Samsung smartphones have been able to provide platforms for social media. By introducing apps for social media sites, they took this as an advantage to use these sites for promotion, as it was becoming increasingly popular to own a smartphone and have a social media account. The music industry allowed these to develop their music and release music directly to these smartphones, as they soon became able to store music on these phones so there was no longer a need for MP3 players or iPods. In present day, apps such as Facebook and Snapchat are incredibly important for music promotion as they are used daily by millions of users.

The way in which music formats have changed since 2000 is important to understand, but also fascinating due to such a drastic amount of changes. The transition from cassettes to CD’s were in full swing from 2000, and the increase of physical sales were still on the rise due to an exciting concept of having an album with a cover and booklet, of which were more than half the price of the traditional records. On January 9th 2001, Apple released a downloading platform called iTunes, which immediately became popular and was also a new and exciting concept. Instead of having a physical copy, you could download a song directly to your device and have it in an MP3 format. This was the biggest move in digital sales, as it was the first big move that developed an online era of music. While there were now ways of downloading music, products such as iPods and MP3 players became increasingly popular, as it was portable and you could have your music wherever you went, as long as you had headphones to listen to them with. On 14th of February 2005, an online video service YouTube was introduced, which has now become the most popular online video site in the world. This changed the way people listened to music, because they could access their music for free as long as they had internet. As downloading became popular and physical sales started to swoop, illegal downloading of MP3’s were also on the rise due to a generation wanting free music. In 2008, a streaming service Spotify was created, which has completely changed the music industry. It introduced a new way of listening to music, as you could have all the music you wanted from only paying a small subscription fee. Streaming is the most popular way of listening to music in this day and age, and is also counted towards chart positions.

Artists relationships with their audience and within the industry has changed dramatically since 2000 too. Artists were once seen as untouchable and were seen more as objects rather than people, however since the increase of social platforms, artists have been able to develop more of a friendship with their audience, and have been able to portray their personality too. The use of social media has allowed artists to interact with their fans and have made it easier to promote themselves in a particular way. The idea of artists being able to keep their audience updated at all times is appealing and keeps people interested, it allows people to know what is going on. As artists have had to develop with the change of the industry, they have been able to spot parts of the market that they can fill in order to become the biggest they can be.

Future of the UK Recording Industry

The music industry has undoubtedly changed throughout a very short amount of time since 2000. These changes have made it easier for to predict what the future holds for the UK recording industry. As the rise of the internet is so big, this is definitely going to be the most influential part of the future of the music industry, as it has already developed so much in the past 17 years, what will happen in the next 10? With the increase of technology and the internet combining, there will most probably be more services similar to spotify to be released. The way in which people listen and share music will probably be similar to what it is now, however the ease of which people can listen to music will most definitely improve. One day, I am sure that music will soon be able to be accessed from anywhere, everywhere. And this has already been put in place, so the way in which people can listen to music will soon be even easier than it is now, which is hard to believe due to how easy it already is.

Promotion and marketing will too most probably change due to new ways of promoting artists. There are already different elements such as releasing specific artist apps so they their music can be easily accessed and ready to go. Apps are a very important part of the music industry and there will undoubtedly be more coming out soon due to popular demand.

Music formats are most likely going to stay in a form of MP3 downloads or streaming, as that is the most easy and convenient way of getting and listening to music. This in the future will probably stay the same due to how easy it is, however there are current problems in the music industry due to lack of sales on songs and albums due to illegal downloading and streaming. So there may be issues in the way music is sold in the future, as there will some day come a point where it is all expected for free, which is definitely not convenient due to the amount of money spent on recording and promotion. They need to find a way of introducing a system where people are paying an artist directly for their work, as now it is so easy to listen to songs that it doesn’t reward the artists putting in the work. They may introduce a system where you pay for each artist or album you want to listen to, and only provide snippets of certain songs on streaming sites like iTunes currently do.

Artists relationships with their audience and within the industry is likely to stay quite similar as there is a strong interest for people to be able to connect with their favourite artist and share their journey with them. There may be new things put in place that makes it easier for artists to keep their audience updated in the future, ways in which technology may be able to develop and create a way where they can actually join them on their journey.

The future of the UK Recording Industry is exciting yet daunting. There has been a huge shift within the music industry, and there is undoubtedly doing to be more drastic changes in the long run.