#but also hopefully a quote one can look at without context and still feel emotional damage about

[skitskatdacat63]

— Emperor Charles VI's diary entry on Count Althann's death

[text: "My only heart, my comfort, my most faithful servant, my soulmate, who loved me dearly as I did him for 19 years, [we] had a true friendship, we were one heart and one soul, and we never concealed anything from one another. He will always be in my heart, [my] beloved friend..I. have lost everything."]

[timelesslords]

So Under Freezing Stars is finally done 😭I’m incredibly sad it's over but also so happy with the finished product and with the response it's gotten over the past few months <3 

I thought it might be fun to compile some little details about the fic- easter eggs and callbacks to the original books, little thematic details and symbols I included, chapter parallels, stuff like that! Everything is below the cut to avoid spoilers, but hopefully y’all find it fun and it’s an interesting way to top everything off :’) 

Symbolism/Theme

the first time Annabeth drinks nectar, she can’t put a taste to it. This is because she’s in a transitional period with her identity, where she hasn’t quite solidified a sense of home. When she wakes up after being given nectar for the second time, her mouth tastes like apples because her and Perseus had split one together back on the ship. It’s the first food they shared together after she starts associating him with the concept of home, so the nectar takes on that taste. also apples are a sacred fruit of aphrodite so, ya know ;) 

Water plays a big role thematically. There’s the obvious connection to Perseus (whenever Annabeth is looking out into the sea during an unrelated conversation, it’s sort of supposed to indicate that he’s on her mind) but also the more traditional symbolic meanings of water— washing someone/something clean, renewal, rebirth, etc. all of which are themes of the book anyways so it worked out!! Chapters to watch for water symbolism would be 18 and 32 in particular but really anytime there’s an emphasis on the sea

the quote I chose for the epigraph (”Understand this if you understand nothing: it is a powerful thing to be seen”) is from Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi, one of my favorite books! In the context of Freshwater, this quote is when the main character (spoiler) meets someone from their culture who helps them realize they’re a god. It just felt like a particularly perfect way to start off the story, given how many parallels there are to that moment in Freshwater to the entirety UFS. Even without context it frames the story of one of self discovery, but particularly self discovery in tandem with another, which is exactly what I think UFS is about at its core. Freshwater is an incredible book that I owe so much to in terms of inspiring UFS thematically and I def recommend it, though please look up TWs for it beforehand bc it does contain a lot of triggering content.

another more obvious meta thing, the chapter titles switch from Latin to Greek after Annabeth realizes she’s Greek and not Roman 

Chapter Parallels 

 ch20 is called divinity because Annabeth views the sex as akin to a religious awakening— sleeping with her lover is both an act of worship and a revelatory experience wherein she comes to terms with the godly side of her identity. But chapter 33 is called mortal because the thing that makes them special together isn’t necessarily their parentage or their godliness, it’s their humanity. Gods can’t bare their souls to one another because they don’t have one. But mortals— vulnerable and breakable as they are— have that advantage, and when they sleep together the second time Annabeth is fully cognizant and appreciative of that fact.  

The drooling in sleep thing is obviously a callback to the OG books (it’s such an iconic first line I had to include it somehow lol) but it also has a thematic parallel (one that Annabeth actually points out within the narrative). That was one of the first moments she recognized he was human and not some unattainable figure, so it comes back to her later in ch33 when she's thinking about their mortality

In ch14, Piper offers to fix Annabeth’s hair as a peace offering. In ch33, Perseus untangles her hair for her because the idea of doing it herself is overwhelming for her. I just really like the idea of caring for someone else’s hair being an act of love towards that person :’) 

Easter Eggs/OG Book Callbacks

Blackjack asking for fried dough at the end of chapter 4 is a reference to him always asking for donuts in the original books (yes I did google “did they have donuts in ancient rome” for that lol)

The way they fight the hellhound in ch6 (Percy distracting in the front and Annabeth sneaking around the back) is their go-to fighting strategy in the books, which Percy comments on in BOTL

Obviously Jason passing out every 30 seconds is a reference to Jason getting knocked out like 3x a book in HOO (#brason)

Fai turning into a lizard in the Athens chapter is a callback to Frank the Iguana from MOA

the masthead of the ship being a dragon is meant to be reminiscent of Festus  

Other stuff!

Chapter 16 is named calm and chapter 17 is named storm bc 16 is the calm before the (literal) storm

Annabeth saying “is your head full of kelp” to percy in ch13 is the closest I could feasibly get to her calling him seaweed brain lol. I think in chapter 15 she also comments to herself that she feels like his brain is made of seaweed sometimes <3  

When Annabeth decides to let Jason and Piper wake up on their own instead of waking them up herself in ch32, it’s sort of a callback to previous comments she’s made about Jason not being a morning person. She’s still scared that he’ll be mad at her, and she doesn’t want to exacerbate that by waking him up early because she knows he’s in a worse mood in the morning. 

In the final conversation with Jason, Annabeth says “you’re always too hard on yourself” which is kind of a play on her last words to Luke in the original books (“you always pushed yourself too hard”). I don’t know why but I’ve always really liked that line, it feels very Annabeth, so I wanted to include it somehow. Jason isn’t dying but she does love him like a brother so that felt like a good place for it to go. 

something to generally look out for is how reliable or not reliable Annabeth’s narration is. She’s not like a Holden Caufield where she straight up lies to the audience, but her thoughts and observations are not always the most true version of what’s going on. This is probably most obvious in the Luke conflict (particularly chapters 21 and 23) but also when she has to read other people’s emotions and make assumptions about what they’re thinking based on that. A lot of times she’s straight up wrong and just doesn’t realize it (this is particularly relevant in ch14 lol)

another general thing to look at is chapter titles, particularly in the second half of the book. A lot of times the title of the chapter is one of the main themes of the story and that chapter is either an important plot point for that theme or a resolution of it! 

That’s all I can think of right now! I might update this later if I remember more but this is already stupidly long lol. I would apologize for turning my fic into an English assignment but if you made it this far you probably thought it was at least a little interesting, so 😂 

thank you guys again for reading <3 love you all!

[silenthillmutual]

daniil dankovsky is autistic and here’s why:

because i’m autistic and i said so

i kid, obviously. what sort of autistic person would i be if i wasn’t read to back up my silly little claim with an overly long post of evidence a total of three people will read? (hi ned hi jordan hi raven :))

i’m aware that this is cringey because adults aren’t supposed to have autism or interests or talk about either of those things, but this is my blog and you are free to block me if the cringe is too much for you.

these are some things i picked out from the DSMV’s diagnostic criteria, found on the CDC website:

deficits in social-emotional reciprocity

reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect

abnormal social approach

abnormalities in eye contact and body language

defecits in […] understand[ing] relationships

difficults adjusting behavior to suit various social contexts

repetitive motor movements or speech

rigid thinking patterns

highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus

hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input

there’s also some misc. stuff not in the diagnostic criteria (though it may be in the adir or gars-3) i thought was worth noting.

important note from the diagnostic criteria: “symptoms cause clinically significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of current functioning”. i’d say that in his case, they do.

spoilers for pathologic classic, pathologic 2, and the marble nest

deficits in social-emotional reciprocity

in bachelor route of classic, daniil

seems completely oblivious to eva making advances toward him, to the point where she complains to him that he’s ignoring her in favor of asking questions about simon.

seems surprised when people mention maria being in love with him, despite outright asking her a couple of times if she’s flirting with him.

not to mention the fact that he asks her that at all.

his inability or resistence to making connections with others is typically considered one of his character flaws. although it is not outright stated in the dsmv criteria, one trait of autism and other neurodivergencies is “having extremely high or extremely low empathy” - and daniil, despite being a doctor, lacks empathy. which is not to say he doesn’t care at all. i think that he does, but is terrible at showing it.

for example, this scene from marble nest:

Sticky: You must feel terrible… right? That’s fine. I forgive you. You just got confused… Adults always do. Daniil: Oh yes, adults are always occupied with the most asinine nonsense. Like feeling anxious that a bunch of urchins keep roaming the streets, putting themselves in mortal danger!

daniil clearly cares about sticky’s wellbeing (and the wellbeing of the kids looking after him, though he’s not cognizant that he’s in a coma), but his way of showing it is… kind of by being a jerk. all of which bleeds into the next item on the list

reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect

he has no problem sharing his interests, but in both pathologic classic & pathologic 2, daniil speaks with a flat affect - which is to say that he lacks intonation. the words we read him saying may be dramatic or come across as passionate, but the actual voice reading his lines is very monotone, which may contribute to being read as lacking emotion.

and in pathologic 2, he has a voiceline lamenting not telling “her” (eva?) how he felt

in marble nest, he’s teased by the tragedians for being “heartless”:

Tragedian: Maybe. Possibly. But it’s useless to explain to a heartless man. …Take heart, Excellency! If you ever find it, that is. And then come back to us… Even though it all sounds like a rather implausible turn of events.

abnormal social approach

daniil has a tendency to say things that are tactless, odd, or just socially inappropriate. i probably don’t need to point out too many examples, as i think it’s fairly obvious - these are the things people love to pick at when it comes to him, but i do have a few in mind. like, for example, from haruspex route in classic:

Haruspex: What of the antibodies essential for making a serum? Bachelor: I don’t know for sure yet, I’ll send you a report in a few hours. Don’t go about cutting people’s hearts out for your panacea until then. It’s a… controversial solution, you know… Haruspex: What?! Do you even hear yourself? Bachelor: Sorry! I meant no offence… it was just a momentary lapse of… well, you know. Haruspex: None taken.

until artemy points out, daniil doesn’t seem to be aware he just said something rude. even with therapy, picking up on social cues doesn’t come naturally to people with autism, so we tend to say things that come across as rude or strange to others without realizing we’ve put them off. we tend to lack a “filter” that tells us when things are or are not appropriate to say. even when we may recognize it, the rules may not make any sense to us. for example, it makes very little sense that allistics favor politeness over honesty.

i think the glaringly obvious abnormal social approach in pathologic 2 is him threatening to hold artemy at gunpoint to get in the house, which is just overkill, but my personal favorite comes on day 7, when he’s complaining about the orders aglaya has given him. artemy stops him to say he doesn’t understand what daniil wants from him, to which daniil replies:

From you? Oh, nothing. I was just sharing.

to daniil, they were just having a normal conversation. but some part of this - his tone or his words or maybe even his body language - didn’t give artemy the impression that this was supposed to be a regular conversation. (we could, in fact, attribute the same idea to artemy here; why didn’t artemy pick up that this was a normal conversation? the reason i count it towards daniil is because artemy doesn’t seem to have this problem with anybody else. for the record: i don’t think artemy is neurotypical either.)

abnormalities in eye contact and body language

it’s hard to get proof of this in video games, but i will say i think it’s very funny that in pathologic 2 daniil’s idle animations are “pacing”, “sitting like he desperately wants to start bouncing his knees but is stopping himself from doing it”, and “standing unnaturally still” - but there you go. i don’t know anything about making gifs, or i’d gif this one specific talk menu idle he does where he holds eye contact for about three seconds, looks away uncomfortably, and then looks back out of the corner of his eyes.

deficits in […] understand[ing] relationships

mostly examples from his route in classic:

when the army arrives, he can claim to block that aglaya, whom he’s known for two days, is his best friend

he seems baffled by the fact that everone is smitten with maria and working with her, and seems equally baffled by the idea that she’s smitten with him

despite eva implying on day two that she is in a relationship with andrey, is completely blindsided by the revelation on day 6, asking him, “How in the world is she ‘your woman’?”

i’d also like to use his sign-off on his letter to artemy, day 2 of the haruspex route - he signs it as “Your friend (hopefully)”. i know i’m not the only autistic person who used to ask people if we were friends or not. pro tip, if you’ve never done this: don’t. it really weirds people out.

difficulties adjusting behavior to suit various social contexts

the fact that he stands out is blatantly obvious even in pathologic 2 and in the haruspex route of classic. people will comment on him being an outsider and mention that they don’t trust him. but you can watch it happen in real time in his route, because he never fully acclimates to the town. he says something about this to aglaya on day 7:

Bachelor: Was there any particularly notable backstory? I’m deadly tired of all these people. They’re inhuman. They tell the future, believe in walking zombies, and die in all manners of painfully abnormal ways. Inquisitor: Your line of t hinking is obviously falacious - and I was implying something rather mundane. I promise you, no one can really tell the future around here: and neither are deaths inspired by third parties uncommon. Mysterious phenomenons do occur here sometimes… but hardly more often than anywhere else.

actually, there’s an example of him saying something similar to artemy on day 5 in pathologic 2:

Damn this town… I feel I’m trapped in a nightmare. The absurdity of it all… There’s no one to talk to. Everyone’s so volatile. They all seem to want to help, but… their help is worse than hostility.

some of this can be explained by the town’s strangeness, but keep in mind that the first instance happens after he’s been there and involved in the ongoing for an entire week, and the second at nearly a week in. clearly he’s struggling to adjust to the changes.

it’s also worth noting that his reason for fleeing the town in the nocturnal ending?

I have no place here anymore.

This town is no longer mine. No longer human. No longer rational. It doesn’t… accept the likes of me anymore.

repetitive motor movements or speech

it’s harder to see the motor movements in classic, but remember how i pointed out earlier that he paces? pacing is a form of stimming. murky, who is canonically autistic, can also be found pacing as one of her idle animations. having stock phrases for characters to speak when you come near them already ticks off the box on “repetitive speech”, but that by itself doesn’t really cover what they’re talking about - echolalia.

but you know what this does fit with? “‘quoting’ things(communication is HARD! sometimes we need to take shortcuts and use someone else’s words)“

i’ll get to the more obvious example in a minute - i want to point out something that happens very early in pathologic 2 first. you know how you first meet him and artemy accuses daniil of trying to guilt-trip him by asking if it’s true that isidor would still be alive if artemy had come sooner? keep in mind that he spoke to rubin first. and this is what rubin says, when you get a chance to talk to him:

Yesterday, I was told you had killed your father.

That’s not far from the truth, Burakh.

You betrayed him. You left when he needed you most. He cried out for your help, but you didn’t care. He was in peril, and you were too busy elsewhere, He believed, truly believed, that your arrival would put an end to his troubles. And, as always, he was right.

i’m not saying this was necessarily the game’s intent, but it’s entirely possible daniil is parroting back to artemy exactly what rubin said to him.

now, for what you’re probably expecting in this section: the latin. people love to refer to his use of latin as “random”, so let’s clear that up:

it is not latin daniil has made up. with the exception of latin that is mispelled in the game’s texts, all of them are proverbs or otherwise common sayings. you can find most of them on the wikipedia list of latin phrases, or through a 3-second google search.

he’s a doctor. him having taken latin isn’t anymore strange than a lawyer taking latin. in fact, if you pay attention, artemy also took latin; this is implied when artemy tells him he’s always sucked at it.

his uses of latin actually aren’t random at all. what he says fits the situation, and sometimes is used in place of him having to come up with something to say on his own.

prime example:

Forget it, Burakh. I have a splitting headache. If you have no urgent business, then we’ll talk later. Later, later… Qui non proficit, deficit.

qui non proficit, deficit - he who does not advance, loses ground. in other words, “i’m sorry, but i really do need to keep working.” one of his voice lines.

as for why he doesn’t translate the latin: it probably wouldn’t even occur to him to. these are not obscure sayings. the utopians all have a certain degree of education - what would he need to translate them for?

this bleeds into something that isn’t really mentioned, but that i’ve found i have a lot of trouble with in everyday life. autistic people have a tendency to either overexplain (and then have everyone get mad at you because they feel you’re being condescending) or underexplain (and have everyone get mad at you because you haven’t explained anything). the latin would be a case where it feels like a justified underexplanation. you’ll notice that when it comes to anything scientific, he tends to do the reverse, and overexplain. this also happens in classic, whether artemy has asked him to clarify or not.

rigid thinking patterns

the thing i had marked for this was simply his strict adherence to western medical practices and refusal to acknowledge the supernatural, even when it seems obvious - he has a conversation in his route in classic with yulia about this, and that is in fact how he manages to get to her: by asking saburov if there are any other logical skeptics in town. it should be noted they seem to be breaking with this in pathologic 2, where one of his voicelines is “I’m no positivist. There are things in this world beyond our mundane perception.” i have no idea where they’re planning on going with that.

there’s also a quote floating somewhere around twitter about him having been raised by a military man, and militaries tend to enforce very rigid routines. you could say the same thing of block - who (in classic at least) i also have my suspicions about.

highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus

special interests. the one that should obviously come to mind is thanatology, though i would argue latin if not classics in general is a special interest of his as well - in addition to his usage of latin, he also references pericles in the marble nest and was probably refering to the roman occupation of haruspicy in addition to augurs in the same text. he also makes references to shakespeare more than once in both marble nest and pathologic 2.

hyper- or hyperoreactivity to sensory input

i don’t have much written down for this one but there seem to be several places in classic especially where he asks npcs to stop shouting at him. we don’t really have the privilege to know their volume or how they’re interacting with him, but i think it’s also worth noting that he’s the only one of the healers who wears gloves. in pathologic 2 he’s the only named character i can think of who wears them at all. his thing in the lucid dream about the brain being “a border”? gloves are his border, as is his jacket, which may be worn to cut down on sensory issues.

he will also sometimes seem to “overreact” to the situation at hand - such as in classic, when some dogheads mispeak and say that daniil is going to “sterilize” them, and instead of understanding that they must have mispoken, freaks out over the idea that they think they’re going to be… well… sterilized. or in haruspex route, when his reaction to the inquisitor arriving is to threaten suicide.

miscellaneous

he never goes anywhere without that carpet bag. we don’t see it in pathologic 2, but we do hear about it and he doesn’t let it go for a second in classic - not even in the cutscenes where he’s using the microscope. his bag could be a comfort item.

“getting very attached to things like inanimate objects” could work for the bag - but you know what it actually fits the bill much more obviously? the polyhedron. in the haruspex route he recognizes that it’s a lost cause, but he’s still too attached to it to let it go.

in classic at least, daniil is absolutely terrible at lying. most autistic people either are not good at lying, or feel uncomfortable or anxious with having to lie. when he’s asked by yulia and the kids in the polyhedron to lie to block (for different reasons) he’s clearly uncomfortable with the idea that it’ll work. and when it actually comes time to come up with a way to lie to block about why he needs five rifles, your options are to either buckle and tell him the truth, or simply say that you need them for “self-defense”. block believes that you’re not lying to him, but daniil can’t come up with any embeleshments to explain why he needs what he’s asking for.

Commander: Are you hiding something from me? Bachelor: No.

he comes across as naive to other characters. in classic, capella has a voiceline saying, “The Bachelor is not smart. Intelligent, yes… but not smart.” in Pathologic 2, Daniil complains that Aglaya takes him for “a useless dreamer”. he’s also easily used by the Kains to fulfill their endgame in classic.

my final, and absolute favorite: he takes things way too literally. autistic people (and adhd people, from my understanding) have a hard time differentiating jokes and sarcasm. so my favorite moment in marble nest is a case of him taking that earlier advice - to “take heart” literally, by bringing the tragedians a literal human heart:

Tragedian: Oh… Excellency. What a sordid sight! Sorry for underestimating you. You definitely do have… how shall I put it… a creative touch. But this is pure madness. You can’t take things so literally! Daniil: You wanted me to come back to you with an open heart. Well, here I am. …It looked too fitting to be a coincidence.

your mind map, after this, updates to say “I misunderstood the tragedians.”

conclusion

people don’t stop being autistic with age and i think he’s a good example of what it’s like to be in your late 20s and be autistic. i’m sure i missed things as i haven’t finished haruspex route of classic yet and there may just be some other things he does or says that i missed! if anyone has anything to add they think fits i would love to know, thank you for your time :)

[bangtanblurbs]

blue side *special post*

song: blue side - full version, by j-hope

first experience: would we consider the release of blue side, the full version the first experience, or listening to the version from hope world? either way, with hope world, i know i was listening after returning back to DC from ATL following spring break of my first year in my phd program. i was feeling all kinds of heavy, and turning on hopeworld i felt both uplifted and seen at the same time. for an album to carry a track like blue side, along with piece of peace, and then bangers like hangsang and daydream was a lot for me to process but the album instantly became something i listened to all the time. that year was really hard for me - i’d moved away from home, i wasn’t fitting in, i was questioning my abilities, my intelligence, i was so insanely depressed. it was eating away at me, and hope world dropped, making me feel more peace than i’d felt since i had moved. i am still so thankful for that.

feelings: i have so many. obviously, that’s why i had to make a blog for these things. there’s no way i could talk this out with anyone in a normal conversation. also i’d forget everything in my head. hoseok is my comfort idol. i feel very close to him emotionally. maybe it’s because he left gwangju for the big city, he fought like hell and made his way. meanwhile i left a small town and fought like hell, and am trying to make my way. he’s my role model as much as he is my comfort. blue side though, there’s something about it that hits. the lyrics, the sound, it all is about a desire for what existed before - before complicating things with my dreams. leaving the comfort of the familiar, the easy, the known, and making my way in the unknown to chase what i think “home” is supposed to be. sure, things are easier on the *blue side* but without running away from it, would i really burn as bright as a blue flame? give off the warmth that the strongest flame (blue) does? it’s like a double meaning, blue is the innocence and simplicity of the known and the easy, perhaps youth, perhaps home... but also blue is the hottest flame, even if it comes just before a fire dies and burns out, it is still the most significant - the hottest, it’s worth the chase to have this high. 

like hoseok - i feel lonely - this song also deals with the loneliness of walking away from the known, the home. and i relate with it. but the color and the vibrancy of what’s knew, it’s not always so terrible. it’s funny, as i listen to blue side, i think of wildflowers by dolly parton. a song about how we all carry a nostalgia for whatever home is, whatever was simple and easy before we lost our innocence and moved on to adulthood... but the reality is, no matter how bad we want to go back - home doesn’t exist anymore in the way that we remember it. we’ve warped the idea of home and this earlier perfection in our heads. we’ve burned it. as we became strong blue flames, the past was also burnt up and changed. that’s how i feel when i visit home, it’s not what i romanticize when i’m away. and no matter what i always feel dejected, foreign, and alone. but even so, i’m burning bright. i’m *back to blue side* but not in the way of going back to a prior easiness and innocence, instead in the way of being bright and warm, offering others something new and improved. 

personal experience: since the full song just released and i’ve already played in hundreds of times, perhaps i’ll talk about the present and how i will certainly remember this release in the context of where i am now in my life. it’s now been a whole year of the COVID-19 pandemic, a year where i’d really hoped to *find* myself after two years of my phd program continuing to make me feel lost and completely inadequate. the crippling depression, anxiety, and doubt that i carried since moving the DC is still with me, but before COVID-19 hit i had finally - in many ways - made peace with my life. i’d found some energy for my studies and future. things had been looking up. but since the pandemic, i’ve felt much of those feelings creep back in. slowly but surely my demons returned. 

when i turned on blue side for the first time, the same emotions ran through me... a longing for simplicity, a longing for a time when my mind and heart weren’t constantly running, a time when i hadn’t complicated the future i wanted for myself. a longing not to be alone. immediately when i listened to the song i saw my painting of jo march’s monologue in the 2019 adaptation: “women have minds and souls as well as hearts, ambition and talent as well as beauty and i’m sick of being told that love is all a woman is fit for. but... i am so lonely.” while this has absolutely nothing to do with blue side - my mind went there. how life would be simple if i’d abided by the simple life that was destined for me growing up in a small town. i’d have fallen in love, taken a job without much thought, everything would have been easy, i’d never be lonely and the questions and complications of my dreams would be far away (or would they? this version of home is likely fabricated --- see above). as the quote says, she wants to have everything, but in pursuing her dreams she found tremendous loneliness. the blue side, that period of innocence though, perhaps it has it’s own demons as well. there’s the lonliness, the pressure, and the challenges of burning for your dreams as well though - and that’s where i am, that’s also what hoseok is speaking too. i’m not sure right now what exactly i’m longing for. perhaps it’s not the past, perhaps it’s a complete reimagining of my future as the uncertainty of the pandemic continues to play out... either way, there’s a blue side in my mind i *do* long for, a side of innocence and peace - where i can be content with myself and what i’m doing with my time, my thoughts, my energy. i truly hope i can go back to *that* blue side. 

although i’m not sure when that will be, listening to blue side makes me feel that i’m not alone. others relate to this song, it’s message, and obviously it came from hoseok’s very heart. we aren’t alone. those of us that leave all that we knew, leave our innocence and homes in the past - we can forge ahead and become bright and give off warmth to others. hopefully we can sustain the blue fine inside ourselves - much like hoseok. or hopefully there’s a blue side in our minds we can visit when we need respite. 

song breakdown

musically: blue side isn’t the type of track one would have ever anticipated from hoseok unless they’ve really listened to a lot of his interviews and content - where he shows his several dimensions and facets of his personality. hoseok is deeply emotional (not just a sunshine all the time) and his mind has a haunting edge of seriousness, loneliness, and longing to it. the tone of the song, the beat, it’s very soft. not sad, but relaxing, almost bringing in this numb feeling to it. there’s a lo-fi sound to it. as soon as it comes on the listener should feel a sense of calm. you cannot listen to blue side without just feeling mellow. it’s healing despite the darker lyrical content. 

vocally: jung honey vocals hoseok. a combination of singing and smooth rap dominate blue side. ARMY may be unfamiliar with hoseok’s gorgeous singing voice, but they won’t be now. hoseok displays his emotion up front in his whisper singing. it’s almost like he’s telling himself like “just calm down now, it’s okay to retreat to a place where you feel safe.” his rapping voice takes on the same calm demeanor, delivering almost a lullaby to the listener - perhaps hoseok knew that the message of blue side would be one that all of us could resonate deeply with and wanted to ensure that when we listened to it, it was like having a conversation with a friend about feeling nostalgic and yearning for a version of yourself that doesn’t exist anymore. 

lyrically: while we don’t know everything hoseok has gone through, we don’t know what exactly inspired blue side, we were lucky enough to receive a note with the extended version of blue side. hoseok states that when looks back at when he was writing hope world he feels he was a very innocent boy. he was coloring in the man he is today, and he stated that sometimes he truly misses who he was in the past, his innocence and the simplicity of that time. perhaps he’s speaking to the early days of BTS, or even before BTS, or perhaps just before he knew some of the hardships that come along with growing old (which growing old is something he also mentions in the note). hoseok also specifically references a growing homesickness that he’s felt as time has passed. a homesickness for who he used to be. before things picked up and pressure started. 

in the first verse of blue side we are confronted with just this narrative. hoseok states “everything changed between us, i shout alone” - he feels like he’s left who he was completely and now he’s alone, that younger version of his isn’t something he carries with him anymore. it’s something though that he’d like the return to. that “time when i didn’t know anything” a time of innocence and ignorance. a time without problems and stressors. unlike today. 

the chorus is very simple - in haunting and beautiful j-hope fashion - hoseok chants “back to blue side” and it’s almost like this is a return to simplicity. in simply saying what he wants and not complicating it, the juxtaposition with the choruses is quite profound. 

the next verse is more tricky, it’s like a daydream (something that hoseok seems to do often - he’s got a whole song about it). it’s almost like hoseok feels like he can transport himself to that previous state he rides “the wind in the sky to that place in this moment, blue” and he states that it’s “now comforting my heart, blue” then the meaning of blue seems to change as we move into the following verse... hoseok is clearly speaking of making music when he says he “spits out my pains in the dark” he’s sharing his pain, all that he’s carrying with him. he “wanted to walk the blue road, on the rainbow” at this point it seems like the blue side is almost shifting to be his dreams (perhaps the blue side is something he’s nostalgic about but also he’s nostalgic for the version of his dreams that he imagined back when he was innocent and conceived of fame differently than the reality). he’s “singing my blues, singing my bloom, back in my room” alluding to pain that he carries now and the pain that he carried then - while different - it was present in both... but he’d prefer the pain of the past because “i was blue with light breaths” he had some reprieve, whereas now he doesn’t feel like he has the same. 

the closure of the third verse is probably the most contentious lyric in the song. “but now i just want to burn blue and die.” likely because this is a dark lyric for someone with the public image that “j-hope” has. specifically i use j-hope here, as hoseok has been very candid in explaining that who he is on stage and in public isn’t entirely him and isn’t his whole being. while he is j-hope, j-hope is not completely him. part of me wants to go for the easy pickings and say that hoseok wishes sometimes that he could almost kill this persona, and return to simpler times when he got to be hoseok. or perhaps this is his way of saying he wants to share more of hoseok with us, rather than this polished image he’s created which is exhausting and feels alien next to the boy he was during the *blue side* of his life. but i don’t think this is all. i think it’s also got something to do with burning blue, hitting his peak, getting to the point he wants to get to and riding it to wherever it takes him next - to whatever his identity will change to, killing/burning the past and bringing about a new blue side. i think this line is also alluding to the desire to having time to just open up his entire being a truly feel all of the pain and emotions that he’s had over time as he had to grow up quickly and focus hard on his dreams. 

finally - we get to the bridge. this is hoseok’s comforting message for all of us listening. hoseok’s dream has always been to provide others healing and comfort through his music, being able to do that is extremely important for him. the bridge brings that forward. i almost feel like this bridge is him acknowledging that that boy from the blue side still exists. the lines almost allude to us being with him in his “blue dream” he’s taken us there to “carry” and  “hug” us. perhaps he’s felt further away from this dream as fame has taken over, and now he wants to reassure his fans and those that appreciate his art that he hasn’t lost his innocence or heart completely - he will carry us to that place of nostalgia, innocence and purity to offer us comfort as well. “you might say i cannot, but i’ll put you in my arms” he will defy those who discredit his depth and realness and take us into his mind and bring us the comfort he wanted to supply us. 

BUT i also think this message is for himself. he will find away to carry who he is today back to his blue side, back to his period of innocence and purity. he hasn’t turned his back on who he was, he longs for that person more than ever and he’s determined to continue to carry who he is and who he was at the same time. while that’s not exactly the same as being in the blue side - it’s like being in a “blue dream” which can be enough to suffice for some time. 

tl;dr: blue side is a masterpiece. it’s a highlight for hoseok’s career. the depth of emotion conveyed in this piece is insane. hoseok offers up a level of vulnerability not often found in the music industry. he serves it packaged in a unique sounding song that offers the listener nothing but comfort and nostalgia (especially given that it is a reboot of an album that many of us hold dearly to our hearts). what’s even more beautiful about it is that likely many of us have our own blue side from when hope world was released, and perhaps we too are longing for the innocence and purity of that time... this song offers us solace in that we aren’t alone in this feeling. 

[emachinescat]

The Casket of the Armadillos (by Edgar Allan Nope)

A Psych Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 9 - buried alive

Summary:  When Shawn confronts a grad student turned murderer, he learns a very important lesson a very hard way: Don’t piss off English nerds - especially the homicidal ones. 

Characters: Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, Henry

Words: 5,924

TW: panic attacks, buried alive, claustrophobia

Note: If you liked this classic lit-inspired Psych fic, you can always check out this one I wrote, inspired by To Kill a Mockingbird: The Finch and the Mockingbird 

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up.  Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones.  For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them.  In pace requiescat!

- Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado”

Her name was Olivia Hale, she was a twenty-three-year-old grad student at UCSB, and she was working on her doctorate in American lit.  She was attractive in a cute librarian sort of way - short and petite, with long, curly auburn hair she kept in a bun and oversized glasses with thick lenses, and a smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose.  She knew a little bit about everything when it came to literature as a whole, a rather impressive amount about American literature, and absolutely everything there was to know about the life and works of one Edgar Allan Poe.

She was also batshit crazy and currently pointing a .22 pistol directly at Shawn’s head.

“Don’t move,” she growled, disengaging the safety.  

Shawn did a cursory glance around the empty classroom, looking for anything at all he could use to his advantage, to distract her or attack her with or - worst case scenario - to use as a shield.  But Olivia had found him snooping around on the tiny fourth floor study room that she’d been given to use by the department chair as her thesis headquarters.  She’d really made herself at home here, piling books and journals and what seemed like hundreds of loose sheets of paper on every available surface.  

But he was stranded in the middle of the room, with nothing close enough to use as a weapon, and so Shawn used the most powerful tool he had, one that had saved his life and many others, wooed women all over the country, and ordered more chili cheese dogs than he could count.  

He started talking.

“Look, Olivia, I get it,” he said soothingly.  Slowly, in the most non-threatening  manner possible, he lowered his hands.  Olivia gripped the pistol tighter but didn’t shoot.  “I know what happened.  You didn’t mean to kill him.”

Her eyes were wide and fierce, her lips pursed into a thin line.  “No,” she admitted.  “It was an accident.  But he was going to--”

“Yeees,” drawled Shawn, slowly raising his left hand and putting it to his temple, very well aware that he was probably pushing the limit with all of this movement after she had expressly ordered, at gunpoint, for him to stay still.  “I see it.  Dr. Graves was feeling guilty, wasn’t he?  A fifty-five-year-old professor with a fancy PhD and tenure, and a devoted wife and three kids and two grandkids, to boot.  The perfect life.  But oooh, it wasn’t enough for him, was it?”  

Shawn immediately answered his own question, something that he had become exceptionally good at over the years since he was usually the only one who could keep up with himself.  “Of course not!  What’s the perfect job and family when you’ve got a smokin’ hot, super smart student in her mid-twenties who thinks you’re the most impressive man on the planet?”

She sneered, and Shawn noticed with some trepidation that the hand holding the gun trembled just the tiniest bit.  When she spoke, her voice warbled with rage.  “My age and appearance had nothing to do with it - and even if it did, there was nothing wrong with our relationship!  We were perfect for each other, intellectual equals.  We were on each other’s levels - he was my soulmate!  So don’t you dare belittle what we had like that!”  

Ah.  So he had hit a nerve.  This could now go either one of two ways, in Shawn’s extensive experience in being held hostage: Either she would get fed up and send a bullet screaming through his body, Garth Longmore style, or she would let her emotions distract her, and cause her to make a stupid mistake.  Obviously, Shawn hoped for the latter.  

Now Shawn had to make a choice, because he could proceed in one of two ways: Either he could back off and try from another angle, or he could further antagonize her into (hopefully) making a mistake.  Naturally, Shawn went with the latter.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed airily.  “Older men and younger women do it all the time.  But to say there was nothing wrong with your relationship?  The man was married, and you were his student.  I’m not the headmaster here -”

“Dean,” she corrected sharply, and this further proved that Shawn had pegged her correctly as a know-it-all literature wunderkind who had to be right one thousand percent of the time.  “This isn’t Hogwarts.”

Shawn gave a tiny shrug.  “To be honest, all big schools look like Hogwarts to me.”

“Because you have the mind of a child.”  The words were accusatory and patronizing, but Shawn flashed a dazzling smile.

“Thank you,” he said.  Before she could respond, he continued his earlier thoughts, “Even though you were the ‘perfect couple,’ you were furious with him for even suggesting that you stop seeing one another.  The affair was too risky, and he missed his wife.  He wanted to tell her the truth, fix things.”

“It would have ruined everything!” Olivia hissed, and the sound of her voice sent shivers down Shawn’s spine.  There was an unhinged quality to it, something raw and dangerous that he hadn’t sensed before.  He fought the sudden urge to backpedal as far away from her as possible.  “We were perfect together!  And if he told his wife and she let it slip, I would be kicked out!  All my research, all my time and work here, everything would be gone!  He had no right to make that decision for me, to take away my future!”

“Maybe,” said Shawn, and it was like he was watching from outside his body, because he knew that what he was about to say was a big mistake, but he was helpless to stop the words from tumbling from his lips, “you should have thought more about your future before you pursued your married Shakespeare teacher.”

Fury etched itself into every feature of her face, turning her from a beautiful librarian to a feral monster, but her voice was slow and measured as if it was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to shoot him where he stood.  “He taught Southern. Gothic. Masterpieces.”

Shawn tried to backtrack, to undo whatever damage had been done by his unpredictably big mouth.  “But,” he pressed.  “Killing him was an accident.  You didn’t mean to push him down four flights of stairs.”

She considered this.  “No, I didn’t mean to kill him,” she reaffirmed, and then an odd calm smoothed out the angry crevices between her eyebrows - the peace, perhaps, of having come to an important decision that she knew was absolutely right.  Shawn recognized the look because he’d seen it on others’ faces before (very rarely, if ever, had he seen it upon his own).  “And I don’t think I will kill you, either.”

Whatever Shawn had been expecting, this wasn’t it.  Everything about this woman screamed insane and vengeful.  If Shawn lived, he would turn her into the police, and she would go to jail for a very long time.  She was incredibly intelligent - surely she knew this!

And then she clarified, and the world started to make sense again - though Shawn would have honestly been perfectly content in this alternate reality where the bad guy suddenly has a miraculous change of heart.  “Well,” she amended, “I won’t kill you directly.  I’ve never shot anyone before - I only have this little guy here because I’m a young, pretty girl on a big college campus, and I have two night classes.  Besides, your death shouldn’t be so easy.”

Shawn swallowed.  “Olivia, you don’t have to do this.  You haven’t intentionally killed anyone yet.  If you turn yourself in now and cooperate, your sentence will be a lot shorter than if you kill me - directly or not.  Because make no mistake, even if you kill me, you will still get caught.  The SBPD has some damn good detectives, and they’ll bring you down even if I don’t.”

She didn’t respond to him directly.  Instead, her expression was flat save for the dark gleam in her eyes, and she intoned words that in and of themselves had no meaning to Shawn, but that still managed to strike a chord of fear deep inside of his soul.  “‘The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.’”  Shawn was utterly unnerved by this point; it was like she had been taken over by something both sinister and incredibly well-spoken.

And indeed, in many ways she had, as Shawn soon found out, she was quoting the beginning of a story by Edgar Allan Poe.

Presently, however, Shawn had no context for her strange words or sudden shift of demeanor.  His skin crawled and his heart pumped with more get-up-and-go than he’d ever been able to muster in his whole body before.  “Uh, Olivia…”

“Move,” she ordered.  

This time, though it was contrary to his nature, Shawn did what she said without arguing.  This side of the student, with stolen words sliding evilly from her mouth, was a million times scarier than the enraged Olivia who had very nearly shot him between the eyes.

She marched him out of the room and down the three flights of stairs to the main lobby of the English building.  It was dark outside, nearing midnight, and Shawn kicked himself for thinking he was clever for coming to investigate this late.  He’d thought she’d be at home sleeping.  He should have realized that as a grad student, sleeping was the one thing she wouldn’t have time for!  And now he was in very deep trouble, alone, and no one knew where he was.  He should have waited until morning, until the building wasn’t deserted, should have at least called Gus and told him what he was doing.  But it was a college campus, and she was a tiny little literature nerd - it should have been safe!

As she forced him down one flight of stairs, then two, then three, and finally, into a stairwell off the beaten path that had to be unlocked with a key card - which she had - she continued to encant, her voice slowly losing its flatness and growing into something twisted and sing-songy with every word.

“‘You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat.  At length I would be avenged; this was a point, definitely, settled - but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk.’”

“Olivia--”

It was as if she hadn’t heard him as she shoved him into the basement, and now her voice stilled from a chant to a slow, measured whisper..  “‘I must not only punish but punish with impunity.’”   

Shawn wasn’t sure what impunity was, but it sure as hell didn’t sound good.

Their final destination ended up being a small, partially finished storage room near the back of the basement.  Dusty boxes and rusted cabinets and archaic old computer monitors lined the walls and cluttered most of the walking space.  Shawn was reminded grimly of a school supply graveyard.  

Olivia stopped him when they came to a brick wall that had been busted through to fix some issue with the pipes - Shawn saw the water stains on the concrete floor near the break in the wall, and there was a brand new water pipe joined to an old, yellowed one at about eye-level in the small open space between the bricks and the drywall beyond.  Shawn also noticed that the new bricks had been neatly piled up near a sealed bucket that almost certainly contained mortar, right outside of the hole.  Someone was in the process of walling this section back up.

“Nice wall,” Shawn joked, relieved that Olivia had finally stopped her creepy recitation and desperately trying to lighten the mood and bring things back to some sort of normal - honestly, he’d take being threatened with the gun again to the horror movie stuff he’d just witnessed.  “I bet all the other walls are jealous of it.”

It was a lame joke, but her eerie dramatics had him all kinds of messed up.  He expected her to tell him to shut up, or to threaten to shoot him again, or to actually shoot him, but instead she asked him a question in that same cold, calm voice as before.  “Have you ever read ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Shawn?”

Shawn blinked.  “I make it a point not to read anything that’s not a magazine from the 80s or WikiHow articles on ‘How to Escape from Dangerous Forest Animals.’”

The corner of her lips lifted in a mockery of a satisfied smile.  “Good.  Then you’ll get to experience it for yourself, first hand.  Just wait until you get to the ending!  You’re going to love it.”

Somehow, Shawn doubted that very much.

Still holding the gun on him with one hand, she reached her free hand into the cross-body bag she wore and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  Shawn groaned.

“Come on!  What college student just carries handcuffs in their school bag?”  Then he remembered that this particular student had until recently been having a passionate affair with her teacher.  “Wait - never mind.  It makes perfect sense.”

She laughed, even though what he said wasn’t even remotely funny.  The sound of it was strange and discordant - light and tinkly with a threatening undertone that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  Then she gestured at the hole in the wall and ordered, “In.”

Shawn had known it was coming, but had tried to shove that knowledge into the corner of his mind - something that was quite difficult to do for someone with a photographic and eidetic memory - in an effort to convince himself that even she wasn’t that cruel.  He tried to appeal to her one last time: “Olivia, it’s not too late to stop this.  I mean, are you really going to do this to another human being - seriously, look at this place - it’s dusty and moldy and I’m almost certain there’s no room service!  If you’re going to chain me to a pipe, why not do it in a five star hotel?”  When she nudged him with the gun, eyes gleaming with something dark and triumphant, he reluctantly stepped into the small space and implored, “I’ll even settle for a seedy motel off a poorly lit backroad.  I’m not too picky.”

She didn’t answer him as she stood on her tiptoes and handcuffed Shawn’s wrists around the pipe, cinching them so tight that the metal dug into his skin and he doubted that even his dad’s lessons on escaping handcuffs wouldn’t be much help here.  Already he could feel his fingers going numb, and his shoulders and back had started to ache from the hunched position he was forced to take due to the height of the pipe and the awkward angle of his arms.  

Well, Shawn thought glumly as she smiled at her handiwork and carefully backed out of the small space, maybe all wasn’t lost.  Surely someone would come down here and find him. This place was dusty, but it couldn’t be abandoned - work still needed to be done down here, after all.  And he could always yell for help once he was sure Olivia was gone.  She was booksmart, but maybe she wasn’t criminally minded.  He might be in for an uncomfortable night, but in the morning someone would find him and he could have his vision and the cute little psychopath would go to jail for a very long time.

He waited for her to leave, but instead, she used a crowbar to pry the lid off the bucket of mortar, and the pit in Shawn’s stomach became a whole-ass trench.  He should have seen this coming - his heart pounded madly against his rib cage as if trying to free itself, with or without him.  He couldn’t blame it.  “Olivia, please,” he said, and this time, there was no joke, his voice imploring and terrified.  “You don’t have -”

Again, she cut him off.  “How would you like to hear a story before you die, Shawn?” she asked in a tone so casual that she could have been asking him if he wanted to grab a taco.

“How about you tell me a story and then I don’t die?” Shawn bargained weakly.

“Mmmm… If you stay alive, my whole life will be ruined,” Olivia reasoned.  “And I have worked far too hard to allow that to happen.  So.  You just stand there - quietly - and I’ll tell you the story of Poe’s most beloved tale of revenge.  I won’t tell you word for word, of course - we don’t have time for that - but for posterity, I do have it memorized.”  She sounded grotesquely proud of that fact.  “It’s my favorite of his stories, after all.”

And so, as she slowly began to brick up the hole in the wall, with Shawn trapped, helpless and in a dissociative state of panic, she told him the story of two men with really stupid names that Shawn somehow managed, despite his raging fear, to file away for later as possible nicknames for Gus.

“Our story starts in Italy, during the carnival, and our narrator is a man named Montresor, who has a grudge against his once-friend, now-foe, Fortunato…”

The story was an interesting one, even to Shawn, who preferred watching over reading and especially over listening any day.  And as it turned out, Olivia was a really good storyteller.  If he had been in any other position, Shawn might have actually enjoyed the suspenseful tale of revenge.  

But as he stooped there and was forced to listen, all he could think about was about how terrified this Fortunato guy must have been, and then he started wondering how long it had been before the man hadn’t been able to hold his bladder or… other things… anymore, and then about what had happened when he was too tired and dizzy to stand up, if the manacles on his wrists had pulled so hard against his flesh that they cut into him, and if lack of water or oxygen killed him first, all the while he knew that he wasn’t asking these questions for the sake of the fictional character.  He was asking them for himself.  Olivia had made it exceedingly clear - for a literature scholar, she was surprisingly un-subtle about any underlying meanings or motives - that Fortunato’s story was now to be his story.

It wasn’t until she had begun discussing with rapture the brilliance of Poe’s use of the Italian carnival as the setting of a story about murder (because of its abandonment of social order, whatever that meant) and had built up all but the last two bricks, leaving a hole around Shawn’s eye level, that came to the most horrifying realization yet.   He’d been so focused on his own thoughts and fears with Olivia’s words washing over him like an acid bath that he’d barely registered that the dim light in the hole had been darkening incrementally with each new brick placed.  Now he came to the bone-chilling understanding that once she placed those last two bricks, he would be completely in the dark.

He was going to die, alone, terrified, and in utter darkness with fear as his only friend.  He thought in that moment that he might die of a heart attack before he could even think about dehydrating or suffocating.  Honestly, it sounded like an easier way to go.

“Well,” said Olivia finally.  “I can’t say that it’s been a pleasure to meet you in any way, Shawn, but I suppose I should thank you.  Ever since I found out about this unfinished wall down here, I’ve had this unscratchable itch to recreate the titular scene from my favorite Poe story.  You gave me the means and justification to do it!”

Shawn was so overcome by the surging sea of fear and early-onset claustrophobia that he couldn’t even muster up the gumption to make a joke about the word titular.  Instead, as Olivia knelt down next to her bag, rooting around for something, he jerked madly against the handcuffs, desperately searching for any give in the metal or the pipe he was handcuffed to (or even his wrists, at this point he wasn’t picky).  But the pipe was new, and it was sturdy, and so was the fitting that connected it to the old one, which itself didn’t seem too keen on budging, either.

A sick grin teased at Olivia’s parted lips.  “Oh, Fortunato tried that too.  But then he stopped crying and struggling and chose to die with a shred of dignity.  But I highly doubt dignity is something you’re capable of.”  

And then, with the finality of fitting a lid to a coffin, she slapped a piece of fluorescent pink duct tape over his mouth and a fresh wave of panic ravaged Shawn’s everything.  He didn’t remember this happening in her retelling of the story!  Then again, the Fortunato guy had been sealed into catacombs deep underground.  Shawn was in the basement of a heavily trafficked university building.  Someone would actually hear him if he called for help, so she took his voice away from him too.  He couldn’t even sing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” to pass his time or distract him from the inevitable.  As if it wasn’t bad enough that he would die in the dark, he would die in the quiet too - and silence was, as his incessant need for chatter plainly proved, Shawn’s worst enemy.

“Goodbye, Shawn,” Olivia said, and she added one brick, layered on the mortar, and then gave her captive one last satisfied glance before adding the last brick and leaving Shawn in total, impenetrable darkness.  He would never forget that last, terrible look in her eyes before his world went black - she was no longer human; she had elevated herself to the level of the storytelling gods and she relished in the twisted power she held over the life of another human.

As her footsteps clipped away, her voice, obscenely gleeful, called out, “In pace requiescat!”

***

The next ten hours were the worst of Shawn’s life, and they consisted of five main elements all bundled together into a nightmare that would stalk him for the rest of his life.

Cold.  It was the middle of January, and though it couldn’t have been less than forty-five degrees outside, the basement - especially behind the walls - was chilly, and with the musty smell and the dust and the pitch black, Shawn was reminded far too much of a grave and knew that he might as well be in one, because this was going to be his.  It was the kind of cold that bit deeper than the skin and wormed its way into the very core and dug its icy fangs in and refused to let go - the chill of death, an open invitation from the dead to join them in their home beneath the ground.  He shivered a lot, but he couldn’t be sure if it was the cold, or the panic.  It was probably a little of both.

Dark.  The darkness that surrounded him had an unreal nature that could easily trick the eyes into thinking that they were already closed.  It was oppressive and thick, pressing in from all sides, inky black water dredged from the depths of the sea.

Shawn had never been a fan of the dark, but neither did he exactly fear it.  That changed the second that the last brick was put into place and he found himself in a darkness so severe that were in not for the feeling of floor beneath his feet he could have been suspended in the depths of space so remote that not even stars could reach.  The darkness swarmed his senses - it had a physical presence, and it didn’t lessen, never permitted Shawn’s eyes to adjust to it in the slightest.  It just hung there, surrounded him, assaulted his mind with its infinite arsenal of nightmares.

After experiencing true darkness, Shawn would never sleep without a nightlight again (which unfortunately meant he couldn’t judge Gus anymore for using one, either).

Pain.  At first it was just the pull of his shoulders, the ache in his back.  Then, about five minutes after he’d been sealed up, he realized his wrists were screaming with agony - he must have torn them badly when he fought to get away, but the adrenaline staved off the pain until now.  He vaguely wondered how deeply the cuffs had cut - it felt like the skin on his wrists had been flayed - but quickly remembered that it didn’t matter where he was going.  

Then there were the hunger pangs, and they mingled with the cramps from holding his bladder longer than he ever had before, and at some point muscle spasms in his arms and chest and legs joined the choir of suffering.  At one point, he shed a few tears, but they could have just as easily been from anxiety or exhaustion, which itself produced its own kind of pain - he longed to sleep, but his body refused to allow him even that comfort until the very end, right before he was rescued, as if he were being forced on pain of death to endure the pain of death right up until the very moment of his painful death.

At least he didn’t have too much trouble breathing.  There must have been a crack somewhere in the wall in front of or behind him, because fresh air was entering somehow.  He did, several hours into his imprisonment, begin finding it difficult to pull in a full breath, and by the time he was rescued he was giddy with light-headedness, but he didn’t know if it was from the air quality or exhaustion or panic or from being forced to breathe only through his nose for hours, but he really didn’t care.

Quiet.  Even worse than the cold and the dark and the pain was the quiet.  The tape over his mouth prevented him from doing the one thing that could bring him comfort in even the most difficult of situations.  Talking was what Shawn did - he utilized mindless prattle to distract bad guys, to make people underestimate him, to quell fear and panic in himself and those around him, to annoy and wheedle those whose opinions meant the most to him (and who he was most afraid to be real with), and most importantly, to distract himself from all the pain and baggage that his exceptional memory had filed away for him throughout the years.  Talking nonsense meant that he wasn’t thinking about or acknowledging the parts of himself that arguably needed the most attention, those bits that were scared and unsure and hurt and vulnerable.

Shawn had always detested silence, and now it had invaded so intimately that even he could not drive it out.

And all of these culminated in a constant, agonizing state of absolute, unrelenting fear.  

Panic attacks are horrific things that take your natural instincts in potentially dangerous situations and turn them against you in the cruelest of ways.  They suck the air out of your lungs and make your heart pound so fast and so hard that you are convinced it’s going to give out in pure fatigue and never make it to that next beat.  It makes your skin crawl like there are thousands of spiders nesting there, and your chest hurts and your breath is short and stunted and you know you are dying, that the next breath will be your last, but it isn’t, and the fear just continues and sometimes you curl into a ball or rock back and forth or scratch at your skin.

Panic attacks generally last anywhere from five to twenty minutes.  Shawn was stuck in a state of raw, unfiltered panic for ten hours.  When the EMTs at the scene took his heart rate, it was 160, had been the entire time he’d been buried in a collegiate tomb, knowing that he was going to die.

Put simply, Shawn Spencer spent ten hours in his own personal hell.

***

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Detectives Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter, with the help of a frantic Gus and a worried Henry that tried his damndest not to show how worried he was, made the final connections in the case and tracked down the woman who had slept with and then killed her lover like a hyper-intelligent, book-loving black widow.  Juliet and Gus remained on the college campus to continue investigating while Lassiter and Henry went on to the station to question Olivia.  She had refused to say where the missing psychic detective was, however, and only offered one bitter phrase, spoken in another language that sounded to the questioning party like a curse being placed on their heads: 

“Nemo me impune lacessit.”

It was Gus who figured it out after Lassiter related the cryptic saying over the phone.

“I know that phrase!” he exclaimed to a swell of raised eyebrows.  “It’s Latin! It means no one wounds me with impunity!”

“You speak Latin?”  Juliet seemed impressed.

“Not much.  But I recognize that particular saying, because it’s from a story that gave me nightmares my entire sophomore year of college.”  He shuddered.  “It’s from the second-most terrifying Poe story.”  He didn’t elaborate on what the first-most terrifying one was, largely because he didn’t want to give the others fodder to use “The Tell-Tale Heart” against him like Shawn already did.  Then the full implications of the words sunk in and he gasped, “We have to find Shawn, now.”  The horror in his expression sent a chill down Juliet’s spine. 

“Gus - what the hell are you talking about?”  Henry was no longer trying to hide the panic in his voice.

“It’s from ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Gus clarified, his own panic making it difficult to express himself clearly.

“Guster, this is hardly the time for you to have a glass of wine,” Lassiter barked.  “Now stop talking in riddles and just spit it out!”

But Juliet had now made the connection as well and answered for Gus.  “Oh my gosh - isn’t that the one where the guy is sealed into a wall and left to die?”

The dread in Gus’s eyes said it all.

“He’s got to be somewhere on campus,” Henry reasoned, and his voice shook the tiniest bit.  “Lassiter and I are on our way back to you now.  In the meantime, check with the school and see if there are any places that are easily accessed and under construction.”

No one said it aloud, but the possibility that her words hadn’t been a hint at all and that Shawn was somewhere else entirely hung in the air amongst them.  It was funny, Juliet thought - though it wasn’t funny at all - she urgently needed Gus’s theory to be right, because otherwise they would have no leads, but at the same time, she was terrified of the implications if it were true.  

Her heart felt as sick as Montresor’s when he placed the last brick as she and Gus raced to the administration building and prayed they weren’t too late.

***

When they broke through the wall, the sight that greeted them was one that would never leave them - any of them.  Even Lassiter, who made it his sacred duty to remain unfazed by anything his job threw at him was visibly disturbed.

A moment of silence, a beat where time stood still and everyone was afraid to move, and then - 

“Shawn!”  The four rescuers surged forward as one, but Henry got there first, his trembling fingers groping for a pulse - thank God, but it was racing, dangerously fast, and in the background he heard Lassiter radioing for an ambulance.

Shawn woke up as Henry gently peeled the hideous pink duct tape (an affront to all duct tape everywhere) off of his mouth.  It wasn’t a gentle waking, a flutter of eyelashes or the murmuring of a name - it was violent and erratic, fueled by terror.  

Henry had had to deal with panic attacks before - mostly Gus’s when he took the boys camping together, but once or twice when Shawn was really young and he’d had a bad dream.  This one was the worst that he’d ever seen - Shawn woke with a muffled yell, panting through his nose, writhing, tears streaming down his face, eyes squeezed shut against the trauma he’d been subjected to, and he threw himself against the handcuffs so fiercely that Henry feared he’d break his wrists.  

Soon his wrists were freed, though, and Henry, with the help of Lassiter, helped a weakened Shawn out of the wall and into the basement and lowered him to the floor.  Henry sat with him and rubbed his back and spoke quietly to him, Juliet took his hand, and Gus reassured him while Lassiter ran up the stairs to check on the ETA of the ambulance.  

Twenty minutes later, Shawn had been placed onto a stretcher and carried up the stairs and out into the sunlight - sensing the warm rays, he opened his eyes only to pinch them shut again as the brightness after so many hours in the dark nearly blinded him.  He had been given something to calm him down, and he would be going to the hospital to be checked over and observed overnight, and a psychiatrist would be sent in to evaluate him in the morning, and everything was moving so fast that Shawn leaned over the side of the stretcher and deposited the remnants of the last thing he’d eaten, nearly twelve hours before.

“There’s one thing I still don’t get,” he gasped as he was eased back onto the stretcher.  “Where do the armadillos come into her plan?”

The EMTs exchanged a concerned look at the stretcher, probably wondering if there had been some carbon monoxide poisoning after all.  Gus, however, just rolled his eyes.

“Amontillado, Shawn.  It’s a kind of wine.”

“The story is called ‘The Casket of the Armadillos,’” Shawn argued stubbornly, going so far as to cross his arms over his chest, pulling at the IV in his right hand.  

Gus was going to argue, to insist that he’d actually read the story (and why the heck would someone fill a casket with armadillos?), but then Gus saw the plea in Shawn’s hazel eyes, that need for jokes and silliness, and understood that his best friend was clinging onto his last shreds of control.  

“You know what - I forgot,” Gus corrected, shaking his head and giving himself a light smack on the forehead for good measure.  “It is ‘The Casket of Armadillos.’”  He glared out at Henry, at Lassiter and Juliet and the EMTs, defying them to challenge his claim.  No one did, but they all shared a similar baffled expression.

Well, they could deal with their confusion, Gus thought protectively as he watched Shawn and Henry disappear into the ambulance.  Shawn had been through a night of unspeakable horror, so if it was armadillos he wanted, then it was armadillos he was going to get.

[starlocked01]

These Words are Knives

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Virgil doesn't like being a secret boyfriend. He honestly just wants his soulmate to be able to be himself at home and at work. But has Janus ever been himself with anyone? Remus probably. But Virgil and Remus don't know about each other and that's about to become everyone's problem 

Content Warning: Unsympathetic Janus, Swearing, Fighting, Capslock, Emotional Abuse and Manipulation

Day 28 Anxceitmus- A sentence appears on your arm each night recapping something your soulmate said that day. Modified so that it only shows up after you've met them in person.

"If you love me, let me go If you love me, let me go These words are knives that often leave scars The fear, the fear of falling apart Truth be told I never was yours The fear, the fear of falling apart" -This is Gospel Panic! at the Disco

"Oh yes, my girlfriend and I enjoy true crime shows pretty often."

Virgil sighed, staring at the golden letters glowing on his skin. It stung a lot to see his soulmate lie like this every night.

He turned over in bed to face Janus, "I hate your boss."

"Mmhmm, me too," Janus replied flatly, not taking his eyes off the newspaper.

"I shouldn't have to see this. You shouldn't have to keep me hidden from your coworkers," Virgil felt anger knotting at the bottom of his stomach. It truly wasn't fair.

"If he finds out I'm gay, he will fire me. I'm not having this discussion right now," Janus declared with a tone of finality.

"I'm not asking you to out yourself, I'm just upset about the situation," Virgil twisted onto his back and stared at the ceiling, "what does yours say?"

Janus gave an exasperated sigh and made a show of rolling up his sleeve before reading the shiny purple text, "'Oh my god, that would definitely have killed me!' Honestly, Virgil, it was a mouse. Bit of an overreaction."

"Whatever, good night."

"Virgil?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"Love you too."

Well, it wasn't a lie, Virgil is far too trusting of him for him to not mean it when he says he loves him.

Janus could remember back when they'd first met, Virgil wouldn't even give him his phone number. It had been a tedious process getting the anxious man to open up, and it was more than worth it to Janus. The problems only started when he'd met her.

Remus had been completely unexpected; Janus had literally run into her on his way to work. He panicked that first night the neon green script appeared on his arm opposite the purple text. Remus was also his soulmate and unlike Virgil, she was eager to know Janus.

Janus had made his decision to keep his second soulmate a secret the moment he saw the text, and now he sat like a spider atop his web of lies.

Janus glanced over at Virgil as he lay there, clearly not asleep yet, and started humming a lullaby that usually helped Virgil relax. The tension in his shoulders started to ease and soon he was snoring. Janus folded up the newspaper and took the disposable phone out of his nightstand.

R<3: heyyyy sexy i wanna c u tomrw ;]

He smiled and responded, keeping an eye on Virgil to make sure he was still asleep.

J: I agree, at our usual place?

R<3: !!!!!!

He quickly shut off the phone and hid it again before turning off the bedside lamp and rolling over to fall asleep. ---- Truth be told, it was simply easier to talk about Remus at work because they went by multiple pronouns. It also helped that they didn't immediately get suspicious anytime Janus brought them up. Virgil’s concern could be overbearing and it was just easier to stay under the radar of homophobic coworkers who would no longer respect him if they found out.

He didn't feel good about lying; it was survival. But he was good at it.

"Jan!" Remus waved him over as soon as he arrived at the restaurant. He smiled and joined them at their table, "it's been too long, why are you avoiding me?" Remus asked with a grin.

"I'm not, I just don't want to interrupt your work," Janus smirked, taking a sip of his water.

"What? You don't think I could handle you trying to distract me?" Remus laughed happily, leaning over to kiss their soulmate’s cheek.

They laughed and joked all through dinner, gossiping about coworkers, generally having a good time. The time got away from Janus and it was midnight before he realized how late it had gotten.

"Oh! I want to see what your soul mark says today!" Remus beamed, excitedly rolling up their own sleeve.

"You do tend to have quite… entertaining quotes," Janus' smile hid his irritation but he obliged, rolling up his sleeve as well, "'Why don't we eat the babies and call it Swifting?' Really, Remus? Do I want context?"

"You remember 'A Modest Proposal' by Jonathan Swift, right?" he giggled, reading his own quote of the day, "'Honestly, Virgil, it was a mouse.' Huh…" Remus looked confused, "who's Virgil? You don't talk about him but I see his name come up pretty often."

"A coworker. He's not very pleasant to talk with but we often have projects together," the lie was smooth as silk. He knew this one would happen someday and had prepared.

Remus glanced over and saw a streak of purple along Janus’ wrist of his other arm, "what's that?" they grabbed Janus' wrist and pushed the sleeve up before he could protest. They read the words out loud, "'sup, fellow cryptids? I'm your host, Virgil Keir and it's time to talk about why you absolutely should run to the woods to date the Fae.' Wait…" Remus looked up knowingly, "Virgil is your soulmate, not your coworker."

"He can be both. Like I said, he's not easy to get along with-" Janus was sweating under his collar.

"I want to meet him!" Remus exclaimed.

"Why?' Janus was genuinely puzzled by their reaction.

"Hello! I love his youtube channel and you're my easy in! Plus he's your soulmate so he's gotta be important to you, which makes him all the more important to me," Remus grinned happily, "I swear I'm not jealous that you have two soulmates."

Janus let the comment slide past him, "I'll talk with him, but he's rather private. He may not want to meet you. I mean, he hasn't asked about you at all."

"Alright alright. Thanks, Jan!" Remus kissed him again, "wanna stay the night?" they asked with a wink.

"Not tonight, we both have work tomorrow and it's late enough already," Janus gave them a silvery smile while standing to pay the bill.

"Aw man, I can't wait to tell Stormy about this!" Remus pulled out their phone and was already texting with fire in their eyes.

"Who’s Stormy?" Janus asked hesitantly.

"Tumblr mutual. He's like the biggest fan of 'Mothman Mondays'. He'll be so stoked!"

"Ah- well have fun with that. Goodnight, darling," Janus left quickly. This needed to be contained. ---- Virgil stared at his phone in disbelief.

thotiestthoughts: stormy ull nvr guess!!

thotiestthoughts: my soulmate knows Virgil K!!!

Thoti was probably Virgil’s favorite fan, they messaged on tumblr all the time and had become quite good friends, but it was through his anonymous account not the official blog for his show. He debated how he would respond before typing back.

stormcloud07734: wow what a coincidence. r u secretly him? ;)

The best defense is a strong offense, right?

thotiestthoughts: !!!! im so excite!!!!!!

stormcloud07734: that means u must live pretty close to him

thotiestthoughts: u think hes in Orlando???

Virgil smiled. He knew he was in Orlando. But he had a better idea.

stormcloud07734: don't know about Virgil but im in Orlando. wanna meet up?

His heart was pounding. If this were anyone else but thoti he'd never consider it.

thotiestthoughts: OMG WHEN? RN?

stormcloud07734: how about tomorrow?

Virgil smiled at thoti's enthusiasm. They both picked a local cafe to meet in the afternoon and signed off for the night. Virgil didn’t even wait for Janus to get home before falling asleep. ---- Virgil got to the cafe an hour early. He could barely feel his own breathing as his heart felt like it filled his whole chest and stomach. What if he was wrong and thoti turned out to be a creep or stalker? What if he was never heard from again? He hadn't even said goodbye to Janus that morning. He tried to scroll tumblr to calm down, tried to research for his next episode, anything to distract himself from the anticipation and anxiety.

Remus couldn't wait to meet stormy and was practically bouncing around the back seat of xyr Uber. He'd given xem his phone number since they'd never shared photos and xe was trying desperately to not call before xe got to the cafe.

About a block away xyr phone started ringing. It was stormy.

"Hello?" Xe answered breathlessly.

An all too familiar voice answered xem, "hey, thoti, I know you're not here just yet but I have a bit of a confession to make."

"Virgil…" Remus was practically shoved out of the car by the driver as xe was paralyzed in shock. Xe looked up and saw the familiar pale face, purple hair with swooping bangs and dark eyeshadow smiling at him from a table in the corner, phone held to his face.

"Yup, sorry," Virgil hung up as Remus walked over, mouth agape.

"All this time?" xe asked, not ready to sit at the table with one of xyr favorite minor celebrities.

"Yeah, I kinda like participating in cryptid culture without being hounded about my videos," Virgil shrugged with a grin, "come on, sit down. I'm a lot more like stormcloud than I am like my videos."

"I'm Remus," xe stuck out xyr hand.

"Virgil," he snickered and pinched Remus' fingers with three of his own and gave a curt little shake. Xe laughed and sat down across the table, fidgeting with xyr hoodie strings. Virgil gave xem a long look over, "so your soulmate knows me?"

"Oh yeah, I kinda found out last night and asked him to ask you to meet me so if he brings that up, sorry. I just got really excited about it," Remus blushed in embarrassment, "hopefully Janus will be cool about it."

Virgil stopped mid-sip of a mocha latte, "Janus?"

"Yeah, our soulmate."

"You're his soulmate too? I don't believe you," Virgil shook his head.

"I saw both lines of writing on his arms last night, I'm sure of it!" Remus' grin began to falter, "but whatever, right? We're not here to talk about soulmates. I've been so excited to meet you."

"Hang on, how long?" Virgil demanded.

"How long what? My d-"

"How long have you been soulmates?" Virgil smacked the table.

"About 5 months," Remus looked down at the table. This was going terribly.

"Janus has been my soulmate for 2 years and he never brought up a second soulmate. I can't-" Virgil looked like something inside him was dying, "why wouldn't he mention you?"

"He- oh my god he doesn't want me around… and you probably hate me just for existing…" Remus looked up as Virgil laid a hand gently on xyrs.

"No. I don't hate you. We're going to get to the bottom of this." ---- Virgil sat in bed next to Janus who was preoccupied with a book. He didn't know how to bring up Remus and every moment he felt sicker and sicker in his stomach. The frequent fights, the talk at work about a girlfriend, the distance between them, when he thought about it he realized it had only really started 5 months ago.

Janus reached out to take his hand and Virgil instinctively pulled away.

"What's wrong, Virgil?" Janus asked sweetly.

"Don't touch me," he muttered just as the clock struck midnight. He glanced at the yellow text without bothering to read it, "I bet this one is a lie too."

"Virgil, what do you mean? You're acting suspicious," Janus’ mind was reeling. He'd forgotten what Virgil had said he was going to do that day and didn't expect him to be so hostile. He glanced down at the purple text on his arm and asked, "who's 'thoti', Virgil?"

Virgil started to reply when he saw a flash of green on his own arm. He looked and was surprised to find a second soul mark in a dark green scrawl. His phone was ringing and he didn't even need caller ID to know who it was, "are you seeing this too, Rem?" Virgil's eyes flicked over to Janus and narrowed, "a second soulmate, who could have guessed?" Janus kept his face impressively passive at the news and subtle accusation, "okay, see you soon."

Virgil hung up and glared at Janus who simply repeated, "who's 'thoti', Virgil?"

"You insufferable bastard! You know exactly who xe is, your 'girlfriend' our soulmate," Virgil scowled, ready to tear out a throat and leave the body for the wolves. He saw that Remus had texted him that xe was 10 minutes away. Janus had nowhere to run now.

"Her name is Remus. Why would I assume she was your soulmate or that you would give her such a disrespectful nickname?" Janus tried to steer the conversation in his favor.

"You're going to accuse me of disrespect? For the last five months, you have done nothing but lie to us and you're saying I'm the disrespectful one? You can't deflect your way out of this one, babe," Virgil felt his eye twitch. Remus better get there fast if he wanted both soulmates intact.

Virgil was screaming and beating Janus with a pillow when the doorbell rang.

"What the fuck? Is this a confrontation or a sleepover?" Remus burst in the door, finding it unlocked. He ran over and pulled Virgil off of Janus, getting a face full of feathers in the process.

"Oh just casual domestic abuse," Janus picked himself off the floor as Virgil struggled to get out of Remus' grasp.

"I'm going to make him pay, one way or another!" Virgil snarled.

"I don't know, Virgil, I think we can work this out," he blurted out.

Virgil stared at Remus dumbfounded, "you think what? Work this out? He's lied to you the whole time you've known him!"

"So did you," Remus looked down as if ashamed to say it out loud, "I thought you were stormcloud. I gushed about Virgil to you for hours and you never thought to tell me who you really were. I bet you even got content ideas from me and never had to credit them. So how is that different, if not worse, than Janus being scared of you doing exactly what you're doing right now?"

"You really think having an anonymous tumblr is worse than being manipulated for years? Is that what I'm hearing, Remus?"

"I think you're overreacting. I want to try and fix this relationship because we're soulmates and we should be able to make it work," Remus sighed, turning away from Virgil, "I'm not cutting anyone off."

"It's alright, Virgil. I forgive you. Let's figure this out together-"

"NO!" something snapped. Virgil squared up, facing the other two, "get out."

"Virgil," Janus took a step towards him.

"I said, Get Out."

"Oh, did you forget? The lease is in my name. I'm not leaving my fucking apartment. If you don't want to work with us then you can work on getting your own place to live," Janus’ look turned smug and cold as ice.

"Janus, don't kick him out," Remus looked as though he were about to spiral into a panic attack. If he'd just kept his mouth shut for once maybe-

"No, he's right. He holds shelter and food over my head to keep me in line so he can keep a secret fuck boy on the side and expects me to 'work it out' like I'm too scared to fend for myself. Fuck you," Virgil started to laugh with tears streaming down his cheeks. He turned and grabbed his backpack, walking to their room to grab as much of his stuff as he could. Remus followed him, holding Janus back from saying anything more.

"Virgil, please. I don't want to lose you," Remus pleaded softly.

"I thought you were pissed at me for being a liar on the internet," Virgil muttered.

"Maybe, but if I'm willing to forgive Janus don't you think I can forgive you too?" Remus held up his arm to block the door.

Virgil stopped with a heavy exhausted sigh, "I don't want your forgiveness. Remus, if you love me, let me go."

Virgil watched as a tear slipped down Remus' face and he lowered his arm. The rage that fueled him broke and he grabbed Remus in a hug. The other stiffened, uncertain, before relaxing and hugging Virgil back.

"I didn't want to leave you; I just can't stay with him," Virgil fought to keep his voice from trembling as much as his shoulders were shaking.

"I'll see if my landlord can add you on my lease… that way you don't have to leave?" Remus offered hopefully.

"That sounds like a thousand more nights spent screaming. Not a good idea," Virgil broke away from the hug, "thank you, Remus."

"You… you know how to find me if you need me," Remus laughed sullenly.

"Thanks. I'm sorry."

Remus only nodded as Virgil made for the front door.

"If you leave right now, you'll never see him again," Janus spoke from his place on the couch, wine glass in hand, and already half-empty in the short time Virgil spent packing.

"I know. Anything to keep me from fighting you, right? Just watch me find a way to be happy, asshole," Virgil spat before walking out without a second glance back. ---- "Virgil?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"No, you don't!" Virgil hissed, pushing himself away as hard as he could.

"Virgil, I know I'm not your soulmate but I am confident about my feelings for you," Logan looked confused and hurt but all Virgil could see was a cold, sly smile he'd tried so hard to forget. Reality started to blur and Virgil began to hyperventilate while the smirk leered closer, "Virgil, it's me, Logan. In for four."

Virgil focused on the calming voice and followed its instructions. After a few minutes, he could see Logan’s living room, feel the blanket tangled around their feet, the soft touch of his best friend pulling him back from the edge.

"Logan, I- I'm-"

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for," Logan held him close, resting his chin in Virgil’s hair, "you were clearly triggered. I did not mean to hurt you and your lashing out wasn't directed at me."

"But I know you aren't him, it's not fair for me to treat you that way," Virgil shuddered, pushing in to be as close to Logan as possible.

"Perhaps not, but I'm choosing to forgive it because I know this isn't easy for you," Logan smiled rubbing small circles on his back, "I will learn one thousand different ways to show you my appreciation and care if those three little words are ineffective and harmful to you."

"I don't deserve you," Virgil's voice was muffled as he buried his face in Logan’s chest to hide the tears threatening to spill over.

"No, you deserve so much more than I can give you, and you didn't deserve what happened in the past," Logan kissed the top of his head sweetly.

Virgil choked back a sob, "don't your soulmates hate me?"

Logan sighed, "no. They are happy together and I am happy for them. It has been a while since I've talked to either Patton or Roman, but I think they're okay with me finding you. Not every breakup is toxic, nor are all soulbonds romantic."

They stayed curled together like that on the couch for quite a while, the movie they'd been watching left forgotten on pause.

"Are you happy, Logan?" Virgil whispered, breaking the easy silence.

"With you, yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise I won't lie to you. I am happy with you, Stormcloud," Logan squeezed him tighter, trying to impart every ounce of his love with the application of force. He never wanted to be the one hurting Virgil, and if he ever met Janus or Remus, there was a baseball bat with their names on it in the corner.

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020

[shewhobefuddles]

Jordelia Playlist

Okay, here's the playlist of Jordelia songs (and their explanations) I've compiled over quarantine through sheer boredom, and starvation of more TSC content. Feel free to skip the explanations, I just have too much time on my hands and wanted to get my thoughts out. I put a shortlist below to skip the writing. 

Add songs in the comments!!!

Shortlist

Heather- Conan Gray

All I Ask- Adele

Wildest Dreams- Taylor Swift

Stone Cold- Demi Lovato

Like We Never Loved At All- Faith Hill, Tim McGraw

Make You Feel My Love- Adele

Apologize- One Republic

The Last Time- Taylor Swift

Moral of the Story (slowed) - Ashe

Burning- Sam Smith

Without a Word- Birdy

Kiss Me- Ed Sheeran

Salvation- Gabrielle Aplin

Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: I. Prelude- Bach

Heather- Conan Gray

We all saw this one coming, but it really is a good song that I think goes well with Cordelia’s situation. “But I watch your eyes as she walks by; what a sight for sore eyes.” The song quite beautifully describes a classic case of unrequited love, and how it feels to watch the person you care about be obsessed with someone else. Cordelia spends the book watching James follow Grace around, and pushing aside her romantic feelings for him, as she believes that he does not return them. Even after they’re engaged, she accepts that he will never love her, and his feelings for Grace will remain. Of course, we all know there are magical, manipulative forces at play here, but James and Cordelia don’t yet.

All I Ask- Adele

“So don’t get me wrong I know, there is no tomorrow, all I ask is if this is my last night with you, hold me like I’m more than just a friend.”  This song is absolutely beautiful, and if you listen to nothing else on this playlist, listen to this. An underrated Adele masterpiece. Anyways, it again relates to unreciprocated love, and the desire to have one last good memory with the person you love before you have to leave. This makes me think of the desperation of time running out in James and Cordelia’s fake engagement, and Cordelia trying to savor each moment, even though she thinks James isn’t doing the same. It makes me picture her trying to memorize how it feels to be held in his arms as his fiancee/wife, with their inevitable divorce looming over her. I don’t know if they will actually divorce, or even end up getting married. Who knows how their fake engagement will play out. But still, she’d be anticipating divorce, and feeling these things all the same. 

Wildest Dreams- Taylor Swift (listen to the slowed version for even more feels; idk why but slowed versions always have more tension)

“Say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe. Red lips and rosy cheeks; say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams.”  To me, these are the silent pleas of Cordelia as she prepares to leave James, hoping that he’ll still think of her, remember her fondly, even if it’s just in his wildest dreams. It’s also James. James will eventually wake up from his enchantment, and when he does I’m sure he’ll be filled with regret over what he could’ve had with Cordelia, remembering only once the enchantment is off how beautiful she was, how much of a wonderful person she was that he connected with so strongly. This song adds a layer of wistfulness and time gone by between the couple’s memories, and where the couple is now, recollecting them, which hopefully won’t happen in the books. I hope that years don’t go by between Cordelia and James seeing each other, after everything with their engagement. But it’s an interesting thought.

Stone Cold- Demi Lovato (her live/acoustic versions are also worth a listen!)

“I’m happy for you, know that I am, even if I can’t understand. I’ll take the pain, give me the truth. Me and my heart, we’ll make it through. If happy is her, I’m happy for you.” Tears. Tears. Cordelia is so kind, mature, and understanding, and she has never once blamed James for his feelings for Grace, or wished Grace any ill will. She just wants to see James happy, even if it’s not with her. She will continue to love him, and bravely, quietly endure the pain of watching him with someone else, because she cares for him so deeply that just having him close to her, in her life is enough (for now). I sense trouble and discontent, and think that the pain will eat away at her over time, but she really does want the best for James, and wishes him and Grace well.

Like We Never Loved At All- Faith Hill, Tim McGraw (yes it’s country, but hear me out it’s a good song, and I don’t even usually like country music!)

“How can you just walk on by, without one tear in your eye? Don’t you have the slightest feelings left for me?” This one reminds me of how James and Cordelia had about a week or so where he wasn’t under an enchantment; they had a passionate moment in the Whispering Room, James was all enamored and calling her Daisy, and they talked about reading together. And then, the return of the bracelet, and James’ feelings for Cordelia seemingly disappeared. I understand that Cordelia had already had reason to believe James liked Grace, as she’d seen them together before the enchantment was off, and she was probably never that secure in James’ feelings for her, as he only partially professed them very briefly before going back to being in love with Grace, but I have to believe there was a moment where she was very confused. Like, “James and I passionately made out in the Whispering Room, and then he told me he’d never wanted anything more than to kiss me, and now he’s back with Grace? Huh?” So, this song reflects that: having something with someone, only for them to act as if it never happened at all, leaving you with the memories and pain.

Make You Feel My Love- Adele

“Nothing that I wouldn’t do; go to the ends of the earth for you. To make you feel my love.”  A song of deep love and devotion. I imagine Cordelia’s selfless love for James, that burns brightly despite his lack of returned affection, or James’ eventual realization of his love for Cordelia. Him being devastated that he has hurt her, that she doesn’t believe he loves her, that he was never able to recognize his feelings before. I see it as James professing how he feels to Cordelia, baring his soul to her and showing her his devotion, trying to erase her pain and earn her trust.

Apologize- OneRepublic (again, I kinda like the slowed version; you can so clear hear the violin, piano, and tension)

“You tell me that you need me then you go and cut me down, but wait. You tell me that you’re sorry, didn’t think I’d turn around. And say, that it’s too late to apologize.” How I picture some Chain of Iron angst, as a result of the confusion and miscommunication that will be going on with James and Cordelia, due to the enchantment. James will give her mixed signals as his true feelings battle with the feelings brought on by the enchantment, and there will be chaos and pain. James will have a lot to explain to Cordelia at some point, and we’ll see how receptive she is to what he has to say. Cordelia is forgiving and understanding, but she will not tolerate being toyed with, disrespected, or neglected by anyone, not even James, and the bracelet may make it seem like James is mistreating her. No matter which way the story goes, drama will ensue, feelings will be hurt, and amends will have to be made.

The Last Time- Taylor Swift, Gary Lightbody

“This is the last time I’m asking you this, to put my name at the top of your list. This is the last time I’m asking you why. You broke my heart in the blink of an eye.” This song is similar to All I Ask in that it describes the last, bittersweet moment of a relationship, and the desire to preserve that moment to keep with you after the end, and give you a reprieve from the pain. Again, it makes me think of Cordelia trying to savor the moments she gets with James before they have to split.

Moral of the Story- Ashe (SLOWED!!)

I don’t know if it’s just me but I can’t stand the normal version of the song, it sounds a little too poppy. Go listen to the slowed and reverb one on YouTube, it’s so much prettier and more haunting. Anyways, some little quotes that remind me of James’s situation are: “So I never really knew you. God, I really tried to. Blindsided, addicted.” and “You can think that you’re in love, when you’re really just in pain.” To me, in the context of TLH, this song is about James’s deep regret at being caught up in delusions about Grace for years, and ruining things with Cordelia, the love of his life. Also, reflecting on how he’s been held back from truly being himself and experiencing emotions for much of his life, which is devastating. The piano alone at the beginning sounds like melancholy and regret, James pondering the things that have happened to him and the decisions he’s made, and the pain that all of this has caused him, as well as everyone else (I’m guessing Grace will use him to do some scary, dangerous sh*t).

Burning- Sam Smith

“I’ve been burning, yes I’ve been burning. Such a burden, this flame on my chest.” This song instantly reminded me of them, because of the chapter Burn in ChOG, where Cordelia says something like, “For a year I will be close to him, and know what it means to burn.” The actual verses and lyrics of this song don’t apply perfectly to James and Cordelia, but it’s a song about the pain love can bring, how it can burn, so I thought the essence of it fit them.

Without a Word- Birdy

“Stand there and look into my eyes, and tell me that all we had were lies. Show me that you don’t care. And I’ll stay here, if you prefer. Yes, I’ll leave you. Without a word.” Again, I feel this relates to the concept of “Am I imagining everything that happened between us?” that was present with Cordelia after the bracelet was put back on James, only, Cordelia never confronted James. She just assumed she had been reading things wrong, making things up in her mind, and so she accepted it when James went back to Grace. But this song explores the confrontation of two people whose relationship/romance has ended, in which one person is demanding that the other be honest about what happened with them, what their true feelings are. While Cordelia accepted James’ return to Grace fairly easily, this song makes me imagine James confronting Cordelia, once the enchantment has been broken. I can imagine that Cordelia might not be forthright about her feelings for him, after everything she’s been through, but James will only just be realizing his deep love and affection for her, and will likely be wanting to know if she felt what he felt during their moments together that he’d forgotten, like the Whispering Room, or when she read to him. James will want to know how Cordelia feels, and this song is how I picture him wondering about it, and possibly approaching her.

Kiss Me- Ed Sheeran

“So kiss me like you want to be loved.” This one is just a soft, romantic love song. I’m all for the angst and drama, but I do hope that James and Cordelia eventually get time where their feelings have been requited, they are secure in their love, and they can just enjoy being together. This song makes me imagine them slow dancing in a dimly lit room by a dying fire. Sigh.

Salvation- Gabrielle Aplin

“Just a trick of light, to bring me back around again. Those wild eyes, a psychedelic silhouette.” I like all the different metaphors and details this song uses to describe the way that someone you love lives in your head. It reminds me of all the times Cordelia is distracted by James, or is thinking about little details of his, like his eyes or dimples. Her love for him has refused to go away, even through the difficult situations they’ve been put in, and thoughts of him are always floating around somewhere in her mind. James will likely be the same, once the enchantment is broken.

Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: I. Prelude- Bach

This is a piece of classical music with no lyrics or tangible relation to James and Cordelia, but it gives me moody, dramatic ballroom vibes, and I imagine it playing in the background of a scene in TLH.

[lovelylogans]

37. w moxiety?? i’m w e a k

and the moon’s never seen me before

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, mentions of being drunk. that’s about it, but please let me know if i’ve missed any—this is fluff, folks!

pairings: moxiety, mostly off-screen logince

words: 1,483

notes: i am literally so sorry this took so long! this prompt was “dance with me!” this takes place in the wyliwf verse, about two months after the main storyline. the songs patton’s listening to/singing to are “bubbly” by colbie caillat and “reflecting light” by sam philips, a gilmore girls easter egg and also where the title comes from. 

logan has nearly one hundred pages to read for his english course, a paper to write for history, and two tests to study for in latin and science. his plan for this saturday has been to sequester himself into his room to handle them—they haven’t quite reached spring midterms, but they’ve certainly reached the point that his coursework is starting to pile up on him again to the point of being nearly unbearable.

his dad had agreed with this plan, and virgil had, too, sent him upstairs with some healthy study-snacks and an enormous bottle of water, in hopes that logan will “take care of himself.”

he has. he’s also found himself unexpectedly hungry, again—he wonders ruefully when this growth spurt will finally stop, and he’ll stop feeling like he’s eating his dad out of house and home, to quote virgil—but he plods down the stairs, empty plate in hand, ready to sneak into the kitchen to pile up his plate with some filling options. hopefully, he’ll remain unseen so he can flee back to his room before he can be distracted too much. 

he hears music playing, the susurrus of a broom brushing along the floor, soft humming following, and then his dad starts to sing.

his dad has a pleasant voice—logan’s used to hearing it in terms of birthday songs, singalongs, and, in a handful of distant memories, being sung to sleep—and it harmonizes sweetly with the acoustic guitar, the alto voice of the artist. he remembers this song. it had been on the radio frequently when he was younger.

“dance with me!” patton sing-demands, at a break in the music, and logan chances a peek into the kitchen, trying his hardest not to be seen.

it’s still relatively early, so the sunlight’s slanting through the window in the kitchen, sunbeams that caught the dust motes dancing in the air. his dad was still half in pajamas—a sweater, pajama pants, one blue fuzzy sock and one black fuzzy sock—and virgil was dressed for the day, in jeans and his usual hoodie, but his feet were bare. his dad is twisting around the room, holding the broom as if it was a dance partner.

virgil has his back to his dad, but logan can still see the slight smile on his face, even as he scrubs at the dishes in the sink.

“i have kept you focused on chores,” virgil says, sounding only slightly resigned, “for five minutes. we can dance once the floor’s swept.”

“but this is a great song!” patton says, and picks up where the artist has continued without him, “—you make me smile, please, stay for a while now, just take your time, wherever you go—”

he twists on socked feet, mismatched, and tilts the broom so it stands on its own in the corner, slowly moving to crowd virgil at the sink, singing and harmonizing with the music all the while. virgil’s still fighting a smile, and focuses back on the dishes that he’s been scrubbing the whole time logan has been standing awkwardly in the living room, despite the fact that it’s visibly clean.

logan is beginning to regret that he hadn’t just continued without coming to a stop, when he’d heard the music. he knows his dad and virgil are together. he is happy about the development. he has been campaigning for it for years. it is nice to know that his father is being shown love, and being cared for, in the way that he deserves. it is also nice to know that virgil is just about the happiest he’s ever seen him.

it is also, he can acknowledge, a bit strange to walk downstairs on a saturday morning to see his dad cuddling up against virgil’s back, resting his chin on virgil’s shoulder, and cooing at him about virgil in the context of the lyrics it starts in my soul, and i lose all control. partially because it is virgil, but mostly because that is his dad.

(he might even admit, a while down the line, that the entirety of these feelings stem from that is my dad, considering he has three.)

but, he reflects as virgil rolls his eyes, smiling fondly, but at least he places the dish aside and moves to wipe his hands on a dish towel to gently hold patton’s wrists, keeping him in place, they are, very clearly, happy. yes, his father had sometimes sung and danced when he did chores on saturday mornings. but he had never had someone to sing and dance with. virgil has never had anyone to sing to him and dance with him. 

his dad sways on his feet, keeping virgil in their strange half-hug, and ends the saccharine song with an equally saccharine kiss on the cheek.

“dance with me?” his dad requests again, softer.

virgil seems to war with it, for a moment, before he sighs in defeat. “one song.”

“that’s all i ask,” his dad says, and leans up to kiss virgil on the cheek. “here, i’ll pick, just—wipe off your hands, you’re leaving soap suds on my wrists.”

“oh,” virgil says, and hastily, more thoroughly, wipes off his hands. “sorry.”

his dad waves him off, his tongue poking between his lips before he lets out an “a-ha!” and hits play on a song.

this is a song that logan doesn’t know. it starts with similar instrumentals—acoustics—but patton rocks up and down on his toes.

“you’re looking at me like you’re expecting something,” virgil says.

“what, you don’t remember?” his dad asks, hands behind his back, seeming strangely shy.

and then the singer begins to croon, her voice soft and clear, “now that i’ve worn out, i’ve worn out the world, i’m on my knees in fascination��”

“oh,” virgil says. then, “frankly, i’m shocked you can remember this. you were destroyed.”

“we don’t talk about my twenty-first birthday,” patton says primly. “well. other than this. you remember it now, though?”

“yeah, ‘course,” virgil says, sounding strangely fond. “i was practically holding you up, you were so drunk, but you kept telling me one more song, one more song…”

“and this is the song that came on,” his dad says. “this is the first slow-dance we ever danced to.”

as they’ve been talking, they’ve slowly moved toward each other, almost like they’re being pulled by some kind of gravitational force. as the singer begins to crescendo, reaching the first verse, and they’ve settled into a dancing position. his father’s arms wrapped around virgil’s neck. virgil’s hands at his father’s waist. they’re swaying together, more than anything. logan knows his father can dance, in a formal sense. this is hardly formal dancing. virgil’s feet are bare, his father’s feet socked. virgil has a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. they aren’t really even performing dance steps.

“is that so?” virgil says softly.

and yet there is something just as graceful as a viennese waltz in the way that they turn tiny circles in the kitchen. there is something just as smooth in their movements. there is something even more clearly emotional than even the most chemistry-filled dance duo could ever accomplish their eyes are fixed on each other’s—virgil’s, softened and fond, his father’s, even more expressive than usual, a smile on his face that’s gone sweet and sappy around the edges. 

it is so blatantly, clearly obvious that they love each other. in something as small as a dance on a sunny saturday morning, just to get a break from chores. in something as obvious as eye contact.

and this, logan thinks, this exact facial expression is why he can never get too righteous in his indignation about any potential displays of affection. because this is what he’s been rooting for for years. 

he’s been rooting for them to be blatantly, clearly, obviously in love with each other. and now they are.

he cannot possibly be angry about that when it’s so sweet that it makes him want to call roman, a little, and it makes him imagine a tiny, dingy little apartment that’s all theirs when they’re trying to make it in the world, and roman doing the exact same thing, gently prising him away from his desk just to get logan to dance with him, to do something sweet and silly and small and romantic…

he sets the plate on the coffee table as quietly as he can. they’ll see it later, and hopefully get the hint. the snacks can wait. he figures they’re probably owed some privacy, anyway.

logan goes up the stairs, the music chasing him as he goes—“i’m on my knees in fascination, looking through the night, and the moon’s never seen me before…”

there’s a swell of violin and cello. a shared giggle. the sound of a gentle, honeyed kiss.

“…but i’m reflecting light.”

[vroenis]

Reaching Out, Reaching In

It would be criminal not to use ABIIOR for the lede given I’m going to quote Matty albeit not quite verbatim - nevertheless - buy this album, it’s incredible.

But of-course, I’m going to start by talking about

BT

I mention BT a lot; he enters the lists often in my writing, in my discussions. Like many artists in my collection and listening rotation, I seem to be really into an artist for a period of time and then reach a cutoff point where I stop being into them. This probably happens for most people, I don’t know, I’ve not asked most people, but I do want to be very careful of not living in the past or rather dying in it. Still, I like to keep finding new things or rather I’m compelled to. I enjoy things that continue to grow older each second time passes, but I always thirst for new creations by all artists of all ages, whether they bring to bear the experience of years, or they’ve only been around for a few. The point is everyone is here on this wild ride and art is their response to the stimuli; it’s what comes out of us in abstract and semi-abstract, re-translated and it forms these amazing emotional and often transcending connections and multifaceted responses in us and by us I mean me.

I’m getting distracted.

In the last and understandably downcast piece on my deathbed playlist, there are three key BT albums and it’s worth noting the years he released them;

2006 - This Binary Universe

2012 - Nuovo Morceau Subrosa

2016 - _ (untitled - there’s a story, you can look it up if you like, it’s more or less just referred to as the character *underscore*(verbal))

There were other albums in-between but naturally those don’t make the list as far as what I want to be hearing if I’m half or unconscious or in a delirium on my way to imminent death. In 2019, BT released two albums;

October 2019 - Between Here And You

December 2019 - Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear

You may remember I wrote a whole lot about 2009 - 2019 and these albums were absent.

If you go to the wiki for BT, which are his initials for Brian (Wayne) Transeau, you’ll see a wonderfully rich history of a stupendously talented musician and immensely intelligent individual. He is part of a collective of people most wouldn’t know about (which is perfectly fine, to be honest) who are responsible for the digital audio revolution that has completely changed the way we create, record, produce, publish and distribute music as we know it. There are parts of that people may think are negative and some elements certainly are, but the net benefit is unquestionably positive even if only on the sole subject of accessibility. Accessible digital audio has put creation and power within reach of everyone and of-course this means there’s a glut of material available, but it also means we catch sight of more amazing art rather than never see it, or it not seeing the light of day. I lean on humans seeing it and saying that directly rather than speaking in abstract. The light of day is literally us - we humans, seeing the expressions of one-another and hopefully remunerating appropriately so that we can continue to live and improve each other’s lives.

I have always had and continue to have immense respect for BT. He began writing This Binary Universe when his daughter was born, and as she grew, continued working on the album with this tiny infant often in his lap as he worked. He wrote it from creation in 5.1 surround sound, rather than all other “surround sound mixes” being done in retrospect from the stereo stems. It is an astonishing work and See You On The Other Side may very well be one of the greatest pieces of music in history. When I first listened to TBU in 2006, I  had a myriad of emotional responses and I certainly didn’t have as much knowledge of BT’s creation process and background for the album at the time, but I can appreciate that shortly thereafter upon learning it, it probably does form biases in how I feel about the album. This will be important to the discussion later. Nevertheless, the album feels massively injected with specific intent and yes, surely every artistic work is regardless and we’ll get there. This is going to be personal but all writing is - that doesn’t warrant further discussion, we should always be making that assumption.

I follow BT on Instagram and saw him build his awesome new studio, an amazing space for all his gear and synths and something any music professional would love to have in some way... which I may check in a moment, or perhaps not so soon but I hope I don’t forget to come back to that. I will say that I do like it. It is a wonderful playground of vintage, rare and new synths, of super powerful computers with extremely new software and plugs, of high-end analogue desks and outboard units, extremely nice monitors and custom designed absorbers, panels, racks and furniture. It is an absolutely amazing space.

After the studio was finished, he did some collabs with some other artists and folks, some of which I also follow on Instagram whose setups are wildly different so it was nice to see some cross-over. He also interspersed with increasing regularity work on his albums which included clips of 100+ piece orchestras and often DAW session captures of the stems and him working on them. It was all pretty cool and the tiny snippets he posted were rad.

In October 2019, I was travelling to visit family due to cancer treatment, something that’s been at the centre of my life for well over 18 months, and I have my first full listen-thru of Between Here And You on an early morning when the rest of the house is asleep. It’s pretty great, sonically I like it a lot. I don’t have the same response to TBU but I don’t expect to, I should give it a chance, but it still doesn’t elicit a really significant response in me. At this point it has to be said that on the same trip, I have my first full listen-thru of Telefon Tel Aviv’s Dreams Are Not Enough, having slept on its initial September release, and that might be enough to give context to how I responded - it may have been where my head was at and remains to this day. I couldn’t shake it tho, as I still really have an affinity for TBU and I was wondering what was up.

Fast-forward to December and the release of Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear, and I do not respond to this album at all. It has some decent BT synth and sample work in it that exhibits his amazing talent, but it’s cut with orchestral and choral music that to me is indistinct from any other contemporary material available on a Pandora channel playing similar genres. I hate the sound of myself being so critical of someone I admire so much, because for someone who can write bangin’ trance and intricately complicated micro-rhythms and sample-chopped music, someone who writes their own freaken’ software and who edits audio down to the sample because their attention to detail is so specific and demanding - for that same person to be so talented to also be able to write scores and choral vocal arrangements is immense. I’m sure it all means so much to BT and I’m so proud of him for creating what to him must be an amazing work. I’m not trying to say anything negative about the work itself...

But I just don’t respond to it. Almost all the other music I’ve been listening to over the last 10 years including very recently, feels like it’s been created in response to extremely personal experiences that haven’t all been great - singular or accumulations of events that have precipitated significant introspection, and the art that has resulted from it for me reflects it clearly. BT’s two albums feel like... a very fortunate and privileged guy who’s had a lot of time and opportunity to play with his gear, record it and release it. The title also sounds presumptuous as if to position that systemic poverty and oppression and struggle outside of ones’ control can be solved by the oppressed simply stopping being afraid and I border on hating it every time I read it... - and that sounds so horribly mean because it is, I don’t intend for it to be mean. I need to check my expectations and I need to respect that Brian is still doing what he wants to do and he doesn’t owe me anything, least of all in something as abstract as how something sounds and whether or not I like it, because ultimately that’s all I’m talking about here, no matter how obscure I want to make the discussion. The intent of the title, especially - I’m certain - isn’t to diminish those who suffer, and I should be careful in my reading of it. So keeping myself in check, I’m here to explore the rest of my response, and I’m going to try and give further context.

Coldplay

I’ve no problem telling you I like Coldplay. I guess if you knew more about my musical background, it’d be less of a surprise, tho if you’ve been following along, it’ll make sense. If you’re reading this journal backwards, it may or may not, depending on how much I write about production in the future. To cut a long story short, like many bands I’m almost not at all into the band themselves and almost entirely into the production that surrounds them. Meow meow meow, all the art purists will bang-on about how music is about the performers but producers and engineers are artists in every way as much as performers are, and even bands or individuals who “just perform” with their instrument and no-one else on stage and no technicals (screens, lights, unseen backing musos etc.) still have a myriad of people surrounding them without which they can’t execute their working careers. Anyway, feel free to remain ignorant of those facts if you like and be all “pure performers”, no problem - magic can be real for you.

I lost track of Coldplay at after their 2015 album A Head Full Of Dreams. I’m less emotionally invested in the band and totally don’t mind that they’d up until that point releasing more or less the same sound for four consecutive albums. I really like the sound and if you pay close enough attention, it was actually evolving nicely, enough for me at any rate. I’d forgotten all about the band which is easy to do when you don’t really pay attention to pop-music and the activities therein, and then a couple of months ago (January maybe?) by whatever divination of the YouTube algorithm, a video titled Coldplay: Everyday Life Live in Jordan came up in my recommendations - a thing I was until then, unaware even existed. I’d no idea what the band was doing and I’m always keen to give them a shot, so I clicked-thru.

Moments ago I said I was happy with the band doing the same sound over and over again, and when I listen back to those albums, I’m still fine with them - let’s call it the Viva/Prospekt’s/Dreams anthology. Several things struck me about Everyday Life. Given my personal experiences of the last ten years, my struggles and the struggles of everyone around me, both personal and the cultures I observe and choose to observe, watching these four guys geared up in these ruins in Jordan looked stupendously privileged and a massive flex of wealth and influence. It looked like money buying good photography, framing and impossible location kudos and style. The sound in culture to my personal experiences also felt irrelevant.

And now I can finally talk about

The 1975 - Reaching Out, Reaching In

I now don’t remember whether it was at the ABIIOR concert in Melbourne, September 2019, or in one of the many interview snippets on YouTube or an article - I’m fairly sure it was his voice, so I either saw him say it in a video or he said it at the concert or both. Matt Healy said something along the lines of...

“... I know our last album was very inwardly focused... but A Brief Inquiry is very outwardly focused... it’s more about the world... and you... and us...”

That is not at all what he said verbatim but it was something very similar to that so I desperately hope a 1975 fan drops in and corrects me or can find a clip of him repeating it. Anyway there are a lot of really good things to extract from that, firstly from what it means about The 1975′s music and the culture that forms around it, and then about the discussion I’m having.

BT, Coldplay and The 1975 all live in my Ultimate folder on my hard-drive,  but while BT and Coldplay fall where they will alpha-numerically as far as directory structure is concerned, The 1975 have the auspicious honour of having leading zeros in their text so they appear first. This is so that I never have to scroll all the way down to T in any program or utility (like my car’s head unit) to find them. Worth noting that composer Yoko Kanno is 01 and Underworld are 02.

The album that preceded A Brief Inquiry... was released in 2016, titled I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It, an intentionally Emo title, I believe or at least hope, and it is definitely an inwardly focused album in the themes indicated by its lyrical content. It’s to date one of my favourite albums of all time, superbly performed and produced and overflowing with emotion - there’s some truly heartbreaking sound and words therein. I feel like this album is a perfect inclusion with the others in my Circa 2009 - 2019 piece that was somehow vaguely about how much of a struggle those 10 years have been. I guess it’d be difficult to get a notion of that if you’re not familiar with the music and material, but all of that music is introspective - it’s all about reaching in. As mentioned above, the art these artists are producing is the result of deeply intimate experiences, some they share directly with us outside of the abstract of art - relationships, family loss, drug addiction, mental health - but many that they don’t so clearly telegraph and leave us with the abstract; the art.

A Brief Inquiry.../ABIIOR certainly is about reaching out, even when the lyrics do seem to be personal, but to me as an individual, it feels to reach out in the right way - that is to say *I* feel it’s reaching out to a world *I* identify with, in a way that *I* agree with or find agreeable. The songs in ABIIOR are about misunderstanding, they’re about not giving up, making mistakes, desperation, honesty, the chaos of the destruction of modern society. One of my all-time favourite songs has sprung from this album and has become anthemic for me - Love It If We Made It and I’m going to embed it;

And now I feel I want to say that naming an album “Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear” and also performing a concert in ancient ruins on the top of a mountain during a picturesque sunrise in Jordan with expensive drone photography both feel to me like also reaching out but in ways that I don’t like and agree with, that feel irrelevant and/or culturally inappropriate but I use the term culturally to mean my personal culture; the culture I see myself fit into as an individual that interacts with others, the struggles we seem to share as a collective.

I feel as tho Coldplay once did reach out in the good way I’m trying and possibly failing to describe, or perhaps just trying to frame from a position I prefer. I felt they had a more grounded sense of community with everyday people which makes the irony of their most recent project more apparent. It may well be that I just don’t like what these artists are doing any more and that’s fine. Sometimes we might feel entitled to a sense of righteousness, to validate our distaste for something on a more grand cultural level, to co-opt others into our critique so more fingers can point and collectively say “See?! That thing you’re doing really *is* BAD! More people said so!” but I really am keeping myself in check and not wanting to do that. I think I’m writing this journal to explain myself to myself - yes, to log my justifications because I believe in them, but also ensure I don’t turn into an arsehole. 

Still - I stand by my criticisms because they’re important. I don’t know why in-particular these few examples struck in this way when others didn’t. I bought a bunch of Anjuna music that has nothing to do with culture and emotional response in the ways I’ve discussed them and I love them. Sometimes music is about bangin’ beats and euphoria and that’s OK. Still, the world isn’t entirely a joyous place for me at the moment and hasn’t been. There are positives to celebrate, but I have never been one to only log my celebrations. In particular from a mental health perspective, only documenting positives is incredibly hazardous and I condemn the practice. As much as these entries are laced with darkness and difficulties, each one also contains the things that assist me in surviving, keeping me nourished and navigating this often hellish experience of life. Ultimately of all my skills, seeking out art I identify with is the most valuable survival skill I have, it is the only one that matters. 

Love is a kind of art, there’s nothing abstract in that statement - the love between people is artful, in any and all forms it takes - hence the tags; Art Worth Dying For, and Art Worth Living For.

[thoughtsofatck]

I’ve Never Felt More...American

15 February, 2020

Location: Taiping, Perak

Three weeks in location! I spent time thinking about whether I wanted to post “More American” or “Less American” first. As the program progresses, I think I will have had more time to process all of the emotions and reflections that I had when first starting the program in Kuala Lumpur to post “Less American”. Therefore to start this post, I feel that many of my fellow ETAs and I will be able to relate on so many of these situations and dissimilarities between the two countries.

Growing up in the United States as a first generation Asian-American, there are certainly many traits and behaviors that were taught to us as children that we lead in our own lives to this day. Of such peculiarities are things like having a plastic bag of plastic bags to be used as trash bags later on (economical right!), and having a ton of tupperware - I have tins and containers out the wazoo here.

In conjunction, growing up in the United States, we unconsciously have adopted many traits and behaviors that are distinctly American regardless of our ethnic origins. One of these is the concept of time - Americans are notoriously on time for all meetings, events, and appointments. Malaysians however, well run Malaysian time. This means arriving anywhere from 20-40 minutes late and sometimes even 1-2 hours later than expected (in extreme cases). Understanding the implications of meeting at 2pm (read: 2:30~) has saved us from wasting so much time being confused and waiting and looking awkward. 

Furthermore, as a teacher in the United States, we constantly hear about the boundaries that we need to keep in place between student and teacher and even between teacher and teacher. Work life, personal life, and social life generally do not mix in the States but in Malaysia, these overlap immensely. In a culture that emphasizes community, it’s almost as if teachers and students become friends (somehow while still maintaining a level of respect and authority that is designed in their roles). Social media between teacher and student is strictly prohibited and can get both parties in serious trouble but here teachers and students follow each other and keep updated on each others’ lives, message outside of school and meet up on the weekends. Perhaps this is the way that teachers and students build relationships - students (and teachers) post what they want voluntarily instead of being pulling answers out of students in the States. So many of my school activities are focused on building relationships through interests/opinions, and finding ways to incorporate my students’ likes into the work they do. Since the curriculum is so tight, there isn’t much room to truly get to know students during school time. This is also likely why there are many awkward and overly personal questions we as ETAs get in the first few weeks (dare I say all year(?)) since the concept of personal vs professional (from the American framework) is blurred. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked if I’m married yet, what my religion is, my age, and my salary under the program. Any American reading this is surely horrified of the social boo-boos being committed here but all of these questions hold cultural significance in reference to honorifics, dietary restrictions, and class designation - general taboo topics outright in American culture but necessary to properly identify (and respect) an individual in the distinct boxes that Malaysians have created. The difficult part is that, as Americans, we inherently lie outside of these boxes and it can be difficult to label us in these pre-defined boxes that offer surface level identification but also differ in our individualized underlying reasoning for identifying a certain way. Vegetarianism is very common in Malaysia, observed by the Hindus in the country. Many Americans are also vegetarian for certain dietary requirements, ethical reasoning, and environmental causes that have no correlation to religion. As the weeks progressed, I realized that by me saying that I do not eat pork, many of the teachers assumed that I was also Muslim - a logical but false conclusion to my truth. 

Here comes the fun part.

Y’ALL. Squat toilets. Listen dear reader, please laugh, but nothing could prepare me to use squat toilets. As a first time traveler to Asia, I’m glad that I was alone for no one to witness the confusion, horror, and bewilderment on my face pushing open the stall door and seeing a step platform with aptly-fashioned hole in the floor.  Anyone who has travelled to Asia must have come into contact with these before and certainly has their own mental question marks to how to properly navigate this situation. No Western toilet, no toilet paper, and just a water hose (sometimes called a cebok). Some places just have a huge bucket and a water dipper. For the majority of us ETAs, this was a point of discussion because none of us knew what to do and were afraid to put ourselves in a situation that would ultimately make us very uncomfortable if not executed with true precision. It is not as if we could ask a local to teach us the proper way without flooding the place or giving ourselves a leg cramp. Wikihow(?). To the ETAs that have these “squatty potties” in their houses, I don’t know if you’re using them - but I salute you in navigating this new contraption. For future ETAs in Malaysia or Asia in general - BUY travel tissues! S/O to Watsons (a Malaysian pharmacy chain) because they’re economical and come in packs! For reference - I have yet to take the risk using this type of toilet and pray I never encounter the chance. 

Even coming to Malaysia from different locations in the US and different home living situations and ethnic backgrounds, I fundamentally believe there are so many ways that we as a cohort are bound together by - namely our openness to say what we think (freedom of thought and expression) and our commitment to individuality and our personal beliefs. As I discussed previously in a post about losing a lot of control in our lives, the way we think as Americans is a part of us that we get to keep but need to share cautiously. We tread this line between planting seeds of thought-provocation or committing social-cultural offenses. Even as a Malaysian-American, there are so many nuances that make it difficult to determine the appropriate response simply because of who I’m talking to. No generalizations can be made. Additionally, there are so many situations that as an American, I have not experienced and have no prior knowledge on to offer advice or even navigate myself. In the three weeks since beginning school, I think of a plethora of examples where I’ve had to recognize my own framework of thinking and respond in a way that (hopefully) wouldn’t offend who I’m speaking to and also not infringe on my own identity, beliefs, and desires for my time here. And believe me, it is not easy to protect and respect all of the facets of who we are and who we are interacting with. 

With that in mind, I resonate with a quote from J. William Fulbright**. “We must try to expand the boundaries of human wisdom, empathy and perception, and there is no way of doing that except through education.” In the cases where I’ve had to explain my way of thinking and/or my uncomfortability/disapproval to things viewed, said, or experienced, I attempt to do so in a way that shares what I am used to or believe and why I feel it is important for me to keep as an individual, especially when it seems encouraged for me to take part in. At the same time, I also ask for them to explain to me why certain occurrences happen - rather than their viewpoint on the subject. In this way, both of us feel validated in our contexts and neither of us is dismissed in the cultural and social exchange. Many times I feel like it is easy for us as Americans to write off cultural practices as simply weird or “just different” but all practices are logical and serve a purpose that we at guests in this country may not be aware of. I invite my fellow ETAs to seek out why confusing practices exist and not label them at face value. Many of my teacher colleagues have done the same in areas such as my teaching practices and eating habits. Without judgement, I’m able to explain my rationales and they respect them. If it is important enough to them for me to adopt/fulfill a cultural practice, they surely make it known. 

**I also recognize the problematic historical views of Mr. Fulbright and wish to explain that I do not support the mentality and viewpoints presented by him in many speeches and articles of legislature. 

[smoaking-greenarrow]

#9 from the Out of Context Prompts, please!

From Somewhere Within: Story Teaser

#9: “I looked into the eyes of the devil, and I gave him my soul.”

So, I’ve been hoarding this Soulmate AU for over a month. I thought I’d try something new and write a good piece of it before I started posting. In the spirit of being organized and timely, I’m going to try to post updates every Sunday!

Chapter One will be up on September 16th!

This excerpt is from Chapter Five, so it won’t all make sense, but hopefully I’ve managed to capture some intrigue here :p I’ve also taken some inspiration for this AU from Sense 8, so if you’re familiar with the show, you can imagine along the lines of what “soulmates” are in this universe.

More news: This is my last Arrow Out of Context prompt for season 2! I wanted to save this prompt until I was ready to start posting this fic. I’ll be doing season 3′s quotes soon and I’m very very excited for it! Keep an eye out :)

Summary: Their connection has always felt natural to them, safe and secure. But others tend to fear what they don’t understand, and as far as their enemies are concerned, the world isn’t ready to accept two people who can know each other the way that Oliver and Felicity do.

“Can I come in?” Oliver whispered, getting her attention.

She opened the front door a little wider, stepping aside to let him in.

As he observed her apartment without a word, Felicity moved to pour two glasses of wine, feeling like she couldn’t even look at him. Part of her was afraid of what they might do if she met his eyes again. He was finally standing in front of her. Another part of her was worried that she really wouldn’t care about the consequences.

Needing fresh air, Felicity silently carried the wine toward the backyard, opening the sliding glass door that led to a small patio. She set the glasses down on the table and flipped on the lights, then she slumped into one of the chairs with a heavy sigh.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

Felicity heard the metal chair beside her scraping against the concrete, being pulled closer to her. And then she felt Oliver sit down. Tipping her glass back, she drank until most of the wine was gone. Keeping her eyes forward, her gaze was inadvertently trained on her neighbors by default. She recognized them as the college kids who played music too loud and too late at night, and definitely smoked too much weed. Their lives always seemed much more fun than hers, but that was especially true now.

“What are you doing here?” Felicity finally asked, realizing that he wasn’t going to be the first to speak.

“Trying to protect you,” Oliver whispered back.

“From H.I.V.E?”

“Yes. I…I took care of them. But more will come.”

He was short with his answers, and she felt like it wouldn’t take long before he stopped answering all together. She tried to sort through everything she wanted to know, which questions were the most pressing.

“Look at me, Felicity.”

Closing her eyes, she turned her face towards him and took a deep breath before opening her eyes.

He stared into her eyes, his gaze heavy and meaningful, and she’d never felt more exposed. It was like he could see right into her soul, everything she was feeling now and everything she’d felt since the day she lost him. The emotion that swelled inside of her was exactly what she was afraid if.

After years of putting herself together, Oliver crashed into her heart again with one gaze.

“Please don’t hide from me,” he murmured, “I know you’re scared. But I will never let anyone hurt you, Felicity.”

“What happened to you? All these years…”

Oliver sighed, pressing his elbows to his knees and leaning forward. She could feel his anxiety, it rose in her chest just as it did in his.

Being beside him, having him so close for the first time, it heightened everything she’d felt for him since she was four years old.

It made her feel stronger, too. Like she was borrowing some of his ferocity. His power. Because he had an awful lot of it coursing through him.

“H.I.V.E found me on the island. I can only assume that they’re responsible for the boat sinking…they hit me with darts while I was on the beach. I thought they were tranquilizers, but when I woke up…there was this emptiness,” his eyebrows furrowed, “it was like I just knew…I felt it so intensely. You were dead.”

Felicity nodded, remembering the feeling.

“They’ve been doing tests on me ever since. Every day, someone would come into the room and give me something. A drug of some kind. I’ve been calling them blockers…because I’m almost certain that it’s the reason I couldn’t feel you. After a few years of it though, I think I must have built up a tolerance to the blockers. Eventually they miscalculated my dosage, and one day…I could hear you humming.”

He spoke so innocently, his eyes on her face, but he was somewhere else. As Oliver’s eyes filled with tears, Felicity bit her lip, sitting perfectly still, afraid to disrupt him.

“That’s when I knew you were alive.”

“How did you get out?”

Oliver smiled at her sadly, “I let them take my soul.”

“What does that mean?” Felicity breathed, her hand instinctively reaching for him. Her fingers skimmed over his wrist and the back of his hand. As she touched him, it felt like the whole world was slowing down. Everything stopping and fading away so that it was just them.

Everything she’d known of him since she was a child had been on a completely different sphere of existence. Their own world. But this was real. The heat radiating from his skin to her fingertips? Very, very real.

“Felicity,” he exhaled sharply, his eyes closing as he sank into the simple, unbelievable pleasure of her touch.

“Oliver…”

“I did things that I’m not proud of. Things that turned me into a man, a monster… who doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

“You’re here. That’s all I care about right now.”

“I need you to understand,” he sighed. “The place I’ve been, it’s pure evil. And I looked into the eyes of the devil, and I gave him my soul…”

She couldn’t take her hand away, especially when Oliver reached over and let his own fingers graze her shoulder. It felt like he was touching every inch of her. “But Felicity…it wasn’t mine to give away,” he whispered. “My soul’s belonged to you for as long as I can remember.”

She groaned, swearing that there wasn’t a single living being besides the two of them in that moment.

It felt so extreme, his words and the simple feel of him, finally real. Her senses were on overdrive. Almost too much to bear.

“You’re my destiny, Felicity.”

Tags below :)

@sailorchibimoonunicorn // @embroidered-fiction // @seaolicity // @smoak-me //  @dopecycleblaze // @mrsd923 // @flailykermit // @niki-is-amazing //   @bandanab310 // @felicityqueenforever // @alex-wesley // @smkkbert // @myhauntedblacksoul // @mrsbubblelee // @nuksu // @not-done-fighting // @hopeful-warrior // @pleasedontletmedownx // @hear-the-banshee-screaming //  @ljanies // @siriuslyobsessedfangirl // @coal000 // @alwaysmyownvoice // @morganmaybaby // @marniforolicity // @elizasbodega// @albinoturdqueen // @olicityfluv // @motoughismylife // @velvetsteel // @almondblossomme // @hope-for-olicity // @charlinert // @geemarie // @olicityforeverqueen // @newyorkinlove // @adiwriting // @boo-ritz-radley // @bytemegeekette // @sarcastic1515 // @sandycakes24 // @tragically-irrelevant // @glittercupcakedreams // @standingontheedge-ofme // @ymeanidem // @oliverfel4 //  @evilelmo2383 // @iloveyourintimate // @ma-rion-nette // @blondeeoneexox  // @it-was-a-red-heeler // @cinfos // @1106angel // miriam1779 // @memcjo // @a-broken-hearted-teen // @jules85 // @olicitys-arrows //  @emw751103 // @soaring-cities // @omglovechrissie

[chocolatecarstairs]

qoaad theories

 i’ve had these theories for so long but i never got around to sharing them. talk about doing stuff at the last minute! (minor spoilers if you haven’t read the leaked first 3 chapters of queen/tmi spoilers) 

also a disclaimer: i know that some people have gotten their copies early and might be able to confirm/deny these rumors, but i am not one of those people. these are all theories i’ve had written down and dated in a notebook for varying amounts of time. if you are one of the people who got their copies early (you lucky, lucky bastards) please, please, please don’t confirm or deny any of these theories or correct them or spoil anything about the book for me and everyone else who is still waiting for their copy. (at the end of this post i’ll explain how i’ll tag spoilers for those of you who wish to not see them to be able to block and avoid)

the parabatai curse has something to do with heavenly fire: basically jules and emma have both described burning sensations and extreme heat so many times in the series. (ex; emma always notes that julians skin feels hot to the touch, in lm the day after emma heals jules from the posion arrow he applies runes to her and she notices that they burn and sting which is the opposite of what is supposed to happen when your parabatai gives you runes) and in the leaked first three chapters after julian and emma almost frick-frack julian rushes off and looks at his parabatai rune in the mirror and its like glowing and has flecks in it? which is exactly how jace’s eye are describe in cohf when he still doesn’t have the heavenly fire under control and he loses control kissing clary in the alley. we’ve actually never really seen what the heavenly fire does longterm. clary traps the heavenly fire in the morgernstern sword just days after jace got it so it could reason that the heavenly fire drives people insane after a while because they’re not equipped to handle something so divine and powerful. it also could do it quicker to people who don’t have extra angel blood. i also think that this could have something to do with the snippet cassie released about emma’s marks (we all assumed it meant her marks disappeared but i have a feeling that’s not the case.). the snippet was entirely out of context and i think cassie posted it that way on purpose. she wanted us to believe that emma’s marks had disappeared but maybe they were actually glowing like julian’s parabatai mark had been (which could be one of the physical changes cassie mentioned.) and this is how the curse and the heavenly fire will take affect.

diego is going to die: i hate to even type this one out bc over the course of the series i’ve actually grown to like diego as a character, but i think he’s going to die in qooad. jaime will (presumably) be living in la for twp as he is an important character in that series, and i don’t think he’d leave the mexico institute if he hadn’t experienced some great tragedy that made it too painful for him to stay. i know that’s a stretch, but it isn’t my only reason for thinking perfect diego is kicking the bucket. he is currently in a marriage contract w zara and i don’t see the dearborns letting him out of it that easily. even if he can’t give them the heirloom i could see zara and horace forcing him to marry into the family as punishment and as security that if the heirloom ever does turn up zara will be able to use it to invade faerie. not to mention, he is harboring kieran at the sholomance which at the very least would be frowned upon by the clave and considered abominable by the cohort, but it also quite probably illegal. with horace as the new inquisitor and the mortal sword out of commision the cohort will probably spin a tale of treason and faerie-sympathizing on the part of diego and his friends that helped him hide away kieran. this will probably make him a target for everyone in the cohort. not to mention i feel like his storyline will wrap up at some point in qoaad and i could even see him dying in some way to save cristina and repay this debt he feels he owes her for breaking her heart (not to mention he is obviously still in love with her.).

we’re not going to see too much of ty actually mourning, but what we do see is gonna be heart-wrenching: we all know ty is going to try to use necromancy to bring livvy back from the dead (which was one of my earlier theories about qooad) and that the only reason ty isn’t a mess over her death is because he thinks she’ll be back with him soon enough. obviously, almost none of us believe this is going to work and we’re fully prepared for livvy to stay dead. i don’t think ty is going to realize that there is no way to bring her back until way later if not the very end of the book and watching him come to that realization is going to be an incredibly emotional experience for not just us as readers, but for kit and dru, and especially for ty himself. livvy and ty had a bond that i think was even closer than the parabatai bond and so watching him go through the stages of grief and finally accept the fact that his twin and partner and best friend (who as it had been mentioned before he has literally never gone without her a day in his life and has never been in a world she wasn’t in) is dead is going to be one of the most tragic losses/parts of not just the dark artifices but the entire shadowhunter chronicles.

zara dies, horace lives: kind of a simple theory but i’m 50/50 about zara making it out of this series alive. i have nothing to base this on but a gut feeling. i just really feel like one of the dearborns is going to die and think it would be a better death if it was zara. it’s kind of dark and twisted but zara dying would be an amazing cosmic punishment for horace. he would be going on in a world where the only person he had in life (it’s been mentioned his wife is dead and so far they haven’t mentioned any other family) is gone. 

the cohort isn’t going anywhere just yet: in fact, i think whatever happens in qoaad will just give them more power. livia’s watch will (hopefully) give them a run for their money, but at the end of the day i don’t see them being disbanded or falling apart. cassie has even said that at the end of the book things will be “not great for a lot of people”. i think she meant downworlders and non-racist nephilim. people like alec, jocelyn, and aline (and presumably cristina and diana) who have fallen in love with and been involved in serious relationships with downworlders or part downworlders. people like helen, mark, and kit who have downworlder/faerie blood. and finally for allies to the nephilim like maia, lily, magnus, luke, kieran, gwyn and so on who will likely bear the brunt of whatever the cohort has planned.

ragnor fell is shade: not a very original or well thought out theory. just the only person i can think of that we’ve seen before who is green and could possibly have a relationship with church. (he was very good friends with magnus in basically every series of tsc. church was taken care of by magnus for some time after jem became a silent brother which could explain how he and ragnor would know each other.)

kieran is heading back to faerie: i wanna see the hot faerie threesome last just as much if not more than everyone else out there but i have a feeling it’ll be a one and done type of thing. i see kieran either heading back to the unseelie court as king or a prince (hopefully the unseelie king dies) or being reclaimed into the wild hunt. if adaon takes the kings place i think he would welcome kieran back into the court as a prince and kieran would have some sort of gentry responsibility. if kieran is king then as it's been stated before “a king of faerie can have no human consort.” cassie even replied with that quote to a since-deleted tweet that i believe was about keirark or kieraktina. if kieran isn’t brought back to the unseelie court and the unseelie king dies gwyn will probably take kieran back into the hunt. the only reason kieran isn’t with them right now is bc the unseelie king wants him dead, so it stands to reason that, if the king is dead and the courts don’t claim kieran, gwyn will take him back to the wild hunt.

julian will sever the parabatai bonds (parabatai theory #1): we already know that the parabatai curse will be resolved “one way or the other” and right now the only substantial and viable option we’ve been given (besides jules or emma dying which is a fat NOPE) is the severing of all parabatai bonds using the black volume. it’s been heavily hinted at, if not flat-out stated, that julian is more than willing to sever the bonds if it means keeping emma and his family safe. julian and emma will be sent on a quest to faerie seemingly to retrieve the black volume and return it to horace/ the clave. according to one of the snippets, they apparently bring it to the seelie queen and she will only tell julian how to break the bonds. i personally don’t think cassie would have done it this way if julian was just going to tell emma right after. either she won't want to know or he’ll refuse to tell her, so i don't think she’ll even be able to break the parabatai bond. (unless they have to do it together which would be super cool) and i’ve mentioned it before, but cassie has said that the shadowhunter world will be changed forever in and leading up to twp and that the storyline would deal with how the protagonists and other characters adapt to those changes. i really feel like one of those changes could be the breaking of the parabatai bonds.

cortana is the key to breaking emma and julian’s parabatai bond (parabatai theory #2):  throughout the series, there have been multiple references made to the fact that cortana can cut through anything (ex; using cortana emma killed a rider of manaan which was previously thought to be impossible, emma also destroyed the mortal sword in combat using cortana). if cortana can truly cut anything then surely it should be able to cut the bond between emma and julian. i don’t know exactly how that would work, but this could also tie in with the severing of all parabatai bonds. maybe you need a blade made by wayland the smith to severe them. anything is possible.

that’s basically it on my theories for qoaad. i don’t know if any of them will come true, but i had a lot of fun theorizing over the past year and a half while i waited for queen. in the past couple weeks i’ve reread cohf, lady midnight, and lord of shadows in preparation for queen of air and darkness, so i only posted the theories i thought were relevant or most likely based on the proof i had from those previous books. maybe once i’m done with queen i’ll make a separate post of all the theories i had that were correct or partially correct.

since queen comes out tomorrow (technically today since it’s 5 AM) i wanted to make this long overdue announcement. i know i don't have a ton of followers (100 as of just recently!! thank you guys sm!), but many of you guys are tda or shadowhunter fans, so from now until sometime in january (likely january 4, but possibly later as i know some people will be getting the book for christmas) i will be tagging nearly all queen of air and darkness posts with the tags #qoaadspoilers, #qoaad spoilers, #queen of air and darkness spoilers (with the exception of things we already know like stuff from snippets or non-spoilery pictures). if you don’t wish to see any spoilers from me you can block these tags. that way posts tagged as such won’t show up on your news feed. i know a lot of other blogs are doing the same, so it’s a pretty great way to block spoilers all across the board (even cassie recommended it)! if any of you want to know anything specific about the book feel free to pm me, i've literally been talking about this book for weeks so once i know what its actually about i’ll be more than happy to rant about it with any of you!

[jounetsulovers]

So! the silence in between was a monster of a fic. Officially, it’s the longest fanfic I’ve ever written, clocking in around 12.6k words. I’ve learned a lot from this experience, but I wanted to share with you some of the notes I’ve collected about writing it. I love talking about writing! Spoiler alert: this is very long.

Amagi’s arc plays very differently in both the games and anime. The initial inspiration for having this fic be from Yukie’s POV is the fact that, in the games, she is actually present for Mahoro and Amagi’s big confrontation. They’re billed as a trio, but we get so little in the way of backstory or development for her friendship with them that I immediately started crying one night and spat out the first chapter.

I decided to work with the game verse following that fact, so especially with the last chapter, deviation from the anime is absolutely intentional. In the games, Megane finds the manual for Atlantis Wall, calls ahead to get it on reserve, and Amagi, already upset, charges ahead of the rest of the team to get there first and accidentally has a run-in with Mahoro and Yukie.

Yukie is actually the granddaughter of Mr. Magic Moves himself! That’s 100% true to the games.

Mahoro is probably the biggest deviation to the game timeline for this fic. I did write his dialogue with his anime counterpart in mind, mostly because I think between the two of them, the anime did a better job of capturing his hopelessness. Mahoro in the games acts a lot more like pre-heel face turn Tsurugi than anything else.

Amagi I tried to write somewhere between both his game and anime counterparts. I think his dialogue feels the most consistent between the two adaptions.

One thing you’ll probably notice is that Hikaru’s involvement is.... nonexistent. Again, this is something that’s different in the games. He does have relevance to the chapter, but he and Yukie don’t interact in any real capacity like in the anime.

Title comes from No Light, No Light by Florence and the Machine. Everyone will eventually have a fic named after this song in some form, so might as well try to be a hipster and choose a section that isn’t the obvious. Silence being a theme in the story, it felt relevant.

Originally I’d conceived this fic as having more chapters covering more specific chunks of Yukie’s life. But then I realized I could hit the high points in 4 because that’s Amagi’s jersey number!! So I did. That.

I now understand why so many video game anime adaptions say “FUCK GAME MECHANICS” because it was an absolute nightmare to try and figure out how I wanted to explain the manual shop. I think the fact that it feels deliberately old-fashioned in the games helps out somewhat. Considering how behind the times Yukie’s Grandfather is (a landline?! in 2018?! actually that’s fairly common I deal with enough business accounts at work to know) hopefully it doesn’t seem too weird that a move archive would exist in the digital age. You wouldn’t download a hissatsu

Every place ever but the subs I originally watched for Go spell it Genei, not Gen’ei, but dang it I’m going with what I know!!

Balance posts are a real thing. I literally didn’t know what they were called until now.

Mahoro is a defender in Resistance Japan. Amagi and Yukie are of course defenders by default in-game. It just felt right having that be his original position as a kid. I think he’d be great at it!

SO. A lot of things had to be fleshed out for the trio to break apart. It’s a sort of rift that could potentially be solved with a phone call or the fact that it’s 2018 by the end and probably have cell phones. I did have to do some extra lifting in order to make the drifting apart a little more convincing. A combination of moving, life events, and misunderstandings shown in the canon was what I landed with.

A lot... of emotions were felt writing out the scene in chapter two where Yukie’s grandfather falls. I have literally been in her shoes. It’s something you never quite get out of your head. The circumstances were different, but the core emotions I tried to channel into it are the same.

Fun fact: all of the side characters in Chapter 3 are actually real characters in the games!

This is Kadotsuka.

This is Kureno.

And this is Coach Yatsuhaka! Poor coach. I couldn’t find a way to slip his candle motif in.

Was a former Occult member purposefully chosen to call back to the fact that 10 years later they’re still probably getting flak for the cheating thing? From a former Raimon team member, no less? Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Yes, the man in white was Senguuji. I saw the chance and took it.

A lot of Fifth Sector stuff ultimately got cut, which is sad but it just ended up not being relevant to the points in the fic I wanted to make. Ditto a lot of team interactions, as well as Gen’ei Lore. Ask me about my Gen’ei Lore

I still made a chart for all the team members of Gen’ei so I didn’t have to keep booting up my game or looking at the wiki.

#SeidouzanWasZeus. Stay shady, school.

Maboroshi Shot coming from Phantom Shoot (which is an old, ooooold shoot from way back in s1) is an important hc to me, because I find the idea of hissatsu ownership and evolution a fascinating thing to look at in the context of Inazuma. People remix and evolve moves all the time, and I have a few theories about certain shots becoming others in the period between the original series and Go.

Amagi is not a Watch User, nor is he a Pillar Man.

One thing that hit me in the middle of writing the last chapter is that Yukie.... as far as we can tell, at least.... never sees a good example of an Avatar, or a context where they’re not just an extension of Fifth Sector’s power. She probably doesn’t like them much at all.

Fun game fact: each stadium has their own mini route leading up to them. So that conversation actually does take place in a snowy path in game.

...Yes, Kurumada does make a comment about Yukie being an ex-girlfriend. It’s so tonally awkward that I had to include it because it’s the most middle school “read the ROOM” moment. It cracks me up.

Yearly reminder that there’s two Meganes.

SO. Two particular quirks of my writing style:

One is that I HATE describing hair color with a passion. I will do just about anything to avoid it unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Two is that I hate writing dialogue verbatim, unless I’m quoting something extremely iconic. Pretty much 80% of the dialogue in the last chapter is inspired by either the game scene or the anime scene.

Yukie running after Mahoro also happens in-game! I just fleshed out the conversation following it, hehe.

One thing I just could not fully acknowledge without derailing the ending was the fact that Gen’ei’s match against Raimon canonically happens right after the first Go movie. Amagi has God Eden fresh in his head the entire time. Let that sink in. I’m not happy with the brief dancing around of it, either, but it felt wrong to not bring it up in some form.

AND...... THAT’S THAT. Thank you to everyone who joined me on this wild adventure!

[sparda3g]

Tokyo Ghoul:re Chapter 171 Review

Emotional attachment can lead to complexity within a person. “Easier said than done” is one quote that will be thrown around a lot when it comes to settling the issue. It’s up to their companion to relieve them from despair or among themselves to accept it. The arc is drawing near to the end as one battle ends, another one coming to a close. After a long period of waiting, it was well worth it for this emotional driven chapter.

It’s a bit challenging to say which scenario is the best part of the chapter. Sometimes I like the first half more, sometimes I like the latter. Both scenarios carry the similar theme of attachment to the world and its people, human and ghoul. When it comes to connecting themes and character’s growth, Ishida shines brightly with his delivering on his compelling characters.

I thought the last chapter concluded the battle between Yomo and Uta, but instead, we got a definitive ending here and it’s all for the better. It’s good to know Uta didn’t die from that devastating attack. Granted, I had a hunch he was going to live, but if he did die, that would be a bit easy. The chapter treated us with a really delightful ending to their bout and if there’s more room for the series, a really good future for the two.

Uta goes into greater detail on his thoughts on life itself. The way how he described his life in the past compare to the present somewhat reminds me of Citizen Kane. In that film, there’s this “checkpoint” of a man’s life that often look back and think that’s where the path was decided. Uta had fun back then because nothing in life mattered, even when they break their legs, him and Yomo. It began to change when Yomo was heading towards a different path alas Anteiku with Yoshimura. If Uta doesn’t follow or move anywhere else, what does he have left?

I thought it was pretty sad that Uta did in fact try to help Yomo to avenge his sister because it was like his way to keep him together. You know how many stories go about revenge won’t reward you greatly, if not any. This one is no different but it doesn’t address the obvious, rather use strong words to not only address the morale but connect to Uta’s despair. They couldn’t avenge for Yomo’s behalf, but now, Yomo has move ahead of it, because the world is changing.

Uta is a man that watches the world change but don’t adapt any of it. He has tried enough to adjust, or rather recover from the losses but he just couldn’t change. Every man adapts differently; he’s just harder to crack open. Honestly speaking, I am amazed and moved by Yomo as of late, which is funny considering how much of a mute guy he was. I know he let out his inner feelings when the moment is right, but his connections and thoughts speak to me.

Yomo comes off genuine with his words that it’s a bit unbelievable. Okay, no more knocking on him; I actually like his character a lot. The thing about his words is the fact they are sincere and relatable. He doesn’t come off as a leader or spokesman for a noble peace prize; it’s just two friends talking like friends. Surprising how Yomo did once come close to become another Uta on simply saying life sucks. He lost many loved ones before joining with Anteiku and convinced himself that cruelty is inevitable. When the café was burnt down, his reaction didn’t match up to his thoughts. Easier said than done.

It’s relatable to his thoughts about what should he have done instead of following orders to stand back and watch it fall. Many of us would often think about the past action and debate if it was a mistake or not. What I really like about Yomo transcribing his past is how we get a better view of his character. He was a mute person, but his subtle reaction clued you in how he really felt about it. The most obvious display is against Arima, but it’s also the moment of change for the better.

It’s ironic due to how Arima revolved Yomo’s character for past vengeance yet it intertwined with the present with Ayato and Touka. It’s no longer about fighting for the past cause. It connects very well to theme of attachment since Yomo is now fighting forward to see what rewards him, good or bad. Uta was avoiding the change around him, so nothing seem to progress. He’s there to adjust other’s life. Yomo is part of the world changing and contributing it till the end, hence soon to be a grand uncle. Best grand uncle ever, that’s for sure.

It has a charming way to end the grudge with Yomo willing to allow Uta to earn his desire. Yomo only wants for the best for others and prefer to be taken alone and him alone. It makes sense since Uta was only part of Clowns to change shape of others, even though his target has been only on Yomo. I like how Uta’s reply simply state that they are adults now. These two had a good sit down chat over their problems and reason each other like adults. It also implies he is finally stepping forward and hopefully for a better path.

The charm is how they start talking like good friends again. The topic is amusing because even the characters themselves can see the obvious pairing that is Kaneki and Touka. Who knew that they’re shippers since the beginning? I still remember when Uta asked Kaneki on his opinion on Touka; now it makes sense. The parallel panel is a nice way to end the battle; past or present, some things never change.

The rest of the chapter belongs to Amon and Donato though not without some new revealing details that was well timed for connecting themes. You got to credit Amon to keep on striving against Donato, even against the odds. I know some fans are tired of him getting wrecked, even though most of them are understandable; however, this time is actually relatable, reasonable, and powerful.

To my surprise, Takizawa isn’t there to join along the battle with Amon or even watch him to die. I was certain that the former was going to happen. It came close that Takizawa was pulling the old Shounen method of “Don’t interfere. He is fighting for his honor!” However, the reason to not to interfere is valid because Amon is actually struggling to himself. It wasn’t because Amon is weak or outclassed completely, though wouldn’t mind to be the case. He simply can’t kill Donato due to his attachment.

Whatever the missing pieces from the last chapter were are found here, including Tomoe. Like I said before, she had the perfect chance to kill Amon, but she didn’t do anything. Although she has some pity, it shouldn’t stop her. What stopped her is fear of losing a purpose. All she has left is vengeance and that can be settled now if she like, but then what? Not a single word came out from her after that thought. It’s a small yet valuable moral to exploit on fearing to fulfill their selfish wish.

The part that got me compelled is the flashback scene with Takizawa versus Houji, back at Rue Island. It was a bout that was skipped entirely, and I never knew why. With how Ishida put two and two together, I can understand clearly why it was on hold. In retrospect, fans including me believed Takizawa overwhelmed everyone, but the truth is in and it turns out that Houji held back and accepted death.

It humanizes the theme further because that bout was more emotional influence than a typical a monster versus humans. I was left believing Houji was a cold guy that had no remorse, even though I believed he drew a tear while confirming their next target. Takizawa was a loose cannon but that one expression opened his mind; Houji did care and felt sadden to end up this way. You can argue on why he was sad like regretting to save him before, but the bottom line is he was hindered by emotion and Takizawa technically took it for granted.

Basically, Takizawa’s purpose is to watch Amon develop or die before anything. If he steps in and somehow defeats Donato, what does Amon gain from it? It’s equivalent to a guy who wanted revenge on a criminal, only to be killed by another. No lesson will be learned and if there’s no other way around it, the man is lost. Amon has always been one of my favorite characters of the franchise. I find it appealing whenever he gets a development. While the bout as a whole is pretty solid, it transpires to one of the best humanized development that the series has offered so far.

What intrigued me about Amon the most is his justice system and his origin with Donato. Normally, it would be a simple premise with a boy who grew up with an evil father-figure, now against his kind. While he did embark that journey, he however remained attached to him despite everything he stands for. This portion would challenge readers if they are fine with his struggle despite one is clearly evil. The context is what saved it for me and bonus, shined his character deeper.

It’s a complicated scenario where a character meets his/her faithful enemy who is also the one who fathered them. It has a great parallel display of his tie with Kaneki and the current situation. The two prime examples of his divine character development. He has stuck to the code of justice system based on CCG. His hatred from his past went on Ghouls and killed them for what he believed was right. Once he becomes a ghoul, his view started to change.

It’s a shame that those who are so high up on their code would be forced to be a Ghoul alas force them to wear their shoes. He established a while back that not all Ghouls are evil but they are classified as one, so that may never change. I do wonder about the aftermath, which I still press on for part 3 as long as there are other elements left unsolved. Basically, Amon established both Human and Ghoul are largely the same, and yet he can define who is real evil and Donato is one. So why can he kill him if that’s the case?

The most powerful part is how he finally developed his view about the world being twisted. Remember how he told Ghouls or Kaneki to be specific that they’re the one that ruined it. After what he has gone through, he realizes the world would be twisted by anyone and among them is him. If he let Donato roam free, he is no better than anyone he’s against; a cruel irony. It’s intriguing with Takizawa realizing late of Houji’s emotional attachment result to a sad end while Amon realizing late would result to a good end. Not everyone have a same meaning and he has to deal with it.

The ending is interesting. Amon makes a sword shape weapon, though it can be considered as a cross; a fitting design. Donato looks at him and smiles like a proud father. Amon finally pushes through and takes a huge portion of his left’s side body; similar with Kaneki to Amon in Part 1. Amon actually concludes that he loved Donato and he can’t be hold back because of it.

If it wasn’t for its context and delivery, it would be difficult for readers to accept to like a murderer. The point is Amon and Donato did come a long way in their life in the orphanage. It’s hard to dispute any connection and detach any love they harbored in the past, especially since childhood for Amon. Growing up as such isn’t easy to forget and set free. Even if he seeks for vengeance, it didn’t grow out of air. The bond exists and he had to accept that fact no matter if it is wrong.

After a long break, this chapter was a great return with emotional connection with these characters. The art is pretty solid with its nice use of parallels and expressive feelings. Yomo and Uta have a relaxing bromance ending and Amon and Donato are closing their feud soon with a strong message. It seems like this arc will end in this volume. It’s a only matter of time.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I keep referencing this Chris Morris interview lately, mostly to myself. I try to talk to people in real life but the things other people take seriously aren't as important as any words I try to speak outloud. This is a trend that Morris and crew began to target in the late nineties when Brass Eye was released. When asked if Brass Eye could happen at the time during the Trump administration, he replied staunchly it could not. Back in the late nineties people took themselves far too seriously in the news. So it was easier to lampoon. These days it feels like a regression. Everyone has a statement to unload on you. A complex series of opinions, arguments, and rules about this or that. Some of them have some weight. Others are carried away by counter arguments and burnt at the stake. The only reason a statement, argument, or ideological battle penetrates the news is to simply kick it around for two weeks in a cycle. It never reaches any sort of consensus. It never diffuses into at the very least a case of agreeing to disagree. The Met Gala recently is a fine example of this. Statement fashion is simply meant to nudge the conversation into focus. At it's very minimum the shock is meant to jolt someone out of this seriousness. To rattle them away from their protective shell to change the dialogue. Think tax the rich or peg the patriarchy. Neither of them if you flesh out the argument have much teeth to them. I'm sure you could find yourself at a party defending either argument. "How many stocks do you have in the bank Mister!" Or why victims of childhood sexual harassment and violence might feel a little differently about proving how you might be able to face the patriarchy in a less violent and humiliating way. This is that none of us are defending a 35,000 dollar ticket to the Met Gala in the first place. There were plenty of other statements. After all the ideological dust settled I almost never realized that Iris Van Herpen designed Grimes suit of armor. If I were too clouded by the ideology I would have missed that legitimate moment of genius. I'm a technologist by profession. I have years of 3D fabrication support. I've often found myself drawn into the intersect of technology and fashion. The embroidery machines that print out all the stupid little poetry that gets stolen from other artists? Those are pretty complex to operate. Without them none of this would be possible. And yet good statement fashion does get people talking. But fashion is more than statements. Especially from the rich and wealthy. And if we don't talk about all of it, we start to realize who controls the flow of the dialogue when it goes petty. We're supposed to move on from these arguments like exhibits in a museum. Not get stuck on one or two moments and use them as a soapbox to drown out the entire room. Statement fashion gets people's attention. I wore undercover for years only to find for years people thought I was an undercover cop. I wear a mouse on a shirt and suddenly my porch is overflowed with them. I hold a raccoon in my arms in Korea one trip and the next year my porch is flooded with them as well. You like animals so much! Prove it!

Prove it was also a song by the underground band Television. I was introduced to them by the king of statement fashion itself, Jun Takahashi. I've worn undercover for years at this point. The story of undercover during the Scab years is an interesting insight into what Jun was trying to express at the core. His assistants were getting food in London on a break. An old woman came up to them and offered them a banana. She thought they were homeless. They were excited because the fashion they were wearing felt real and unpretentious. It blended in and confused people in such a way that it was not high brow or high fashion. It was accessible. It was street level. And it was largely coopted by the ultra rich and worn far too seriously for its own good. For people like myself who wore it out of love to provoking real conversation, it did the opposite. It cast me into a shadow realm where people thought what I was saying enabled them to push the limit. To use people like myself as cover in terms of hijacking authenticity. You used to wear undercover as a badge of honor in Japanese street wear. It was designed for rebels after all. You could wear a t-shirt that simply said RAT out in the street and assume if it applied to someone they'd read into it. But nobody including myself really thought you'd be able to change shit with a t-shirt. In America, people wear rebellious shit to express this idea of freedom. With Jun's stuff, it was all centered around this idea of individualism and anarchy. You can be who you are and there are so many variants of human that there is no comparison. America always wants you to prove it. Prove the right to be alone. Prove the right not to mix with the general population to avoid dilution. To avoid being neutralized or have a narrative hijacked. Nowadays you can't even afford to have a statement without someone explaining it for you behind your back. When the streets become the runway, retaliation happens outside the niceties of press and junkets. It happens with real unbridled emotions. The statements you throw into people's faces don't get moderated by it kids, secret tribunals of the ultra rich or your heroes. They get dealt with in a violent and sometimes mob like fashion by people who take themselves so seriously that their arguments against you are louder than a bomb or a nuclear powered submarine. And everything starts to contradict itself so much that none of us have the energy to argue. We just start mocking it. And the entire situation gets worse.

When it comes to a person like myself, I live in a surreal shadow world where the worst Black Mirror plot lines get tested. I've been writing and making statements for years. I've carefully parsed the arguments online. I've defended myself against an invisible hoard to let people know I am not like other people. And yet in America, until they can throw you in a group you are still nobody. You have to be attached to an ecosystem. A financial sink hole that can sell back your ideas to you instead of compensating you for the trouble. I can't take America seriously anymore even when it comes to it's idea of freedom. It lies to maintain a status quo. It constantly lies. It holds it's head high while sniffing the coke back into it's nose and proudly proclaims how it cares. And when people like myself stare it back in the face with our rotting street wear clothes from early 2010, it's a laugh. It believes until it has fully roasted the juices out of you then you are ready to be carved up. And we buy into it consistently. We waste our time feeding into arguments that have no intent on reaching a consensus. It's always you are either for us or against us. Go back and rally with your people. If you can't find your people it must mean you are mentally ill. America can never take the blame. If you catch it off guard it will figure out a way to trash you or cause a diversion. And so making statements to fuel an argument you can't win becomes a lesson in tedium. We should, by all means, continue to make fun of it. But the more we take these arguments seriously, we miss the real problems. We neglect the real art. We see that there's a good 35,000 dollar barrier to being heard. If we're lucky maybe we stitched together the rags these people wear. To me there have been statements in the populist context that have far more penetration into poking a hole in the patriarchy. I'm supposed to preface this by saying I own stock in some company. But I'm not trying to sell a portfolio. And it'd be kind of laughable to say that I'm only serious about feminism by putting my money where my mouth is to break this glass ceiling. The glass ceiling is there for a lot of us if minimum wage can't get us into the Met Gala. These statements are supposed to give you an idea to confront things in your own way. Not some secret way to groom you into humiliation and destroy your sense of self and sexuality. I write statements every week here most of the time. And they get chuckled at by friends and whoever these days spies on me to see how I deal with dead mice on my porch. Aren't I doing enough by saying something for free? I don't get paid to write any of these words. I don't get paid to talk about any of these people. What was that quote about art being counter revolutionary if it isn't accessible by the regular people? What I could do with a four hundred dollar statement t-shirt I can do with a color. Maybe I could make a statement shirt myself and have it ripped off by an incompetent designer one day. I could point at the screen and say "I copyrighted that statement." And look where it is now. Not in my wallet. Not anywhere near the 35,000 dollar ticket price to point back at the camera. Do you see me? No you don't. People in that realm only see themselves. And we take them and their arguments so seriously for what? A laugh hopefully. Because nothing is going to change if we're locked on the outside looking in at a bonfire of vanities. Witches get roasted either way. <3 Tim

[voyageviolet]

I actually sat down and read all of To Siri With Love since there’s been so much talk about it. I have a lot of thoughts about it; it has several problems that haven’t been discussed much because its biggest problems are so egregious. Writing all of that down would make one hell of a long post, though, so right now I’m just going to talk about the worst of it: the eugenics.

I don’t have page numbers for citations because I’m using the ebook version, but I’ll include the chapters the quotes are from.

Here’s the full quotation of the first time in the book that Judith Newman advocates eugenics against her son, in Chapter 8:

A vasectomy is so easy. A couple of snips, a couple of days of ice in your pants, and voilà. A life free of worry. Or one less worry. For me.

How do you say “I’m sterilizing my son” without sounding like a eugenicist? I start thinking about all the people, outliers in some way, who had this fundamental choice in life stolen from them—sometimes cruelly, sometimes by well-meaning people like me. The eugenics movement can be traced back to psychiatrist Alfred Hoche and penal law expert Karl Binding, who in 1920 published a book called The Liberation and Destruction of Life Unworthy of Life.  Its popularity fostered the first eugenics conference in the United States in 1921. The term “eugenics” means “the good birth.” Sample papers: “Distribution and Increase of Negroes in the United States,” “Racial Differences in Musical Ability,” and “Some Notes on the Jewish Problem.”

“Liberation” is such a wonderful euphemism, and in this context many people like my son—and undoubtedly some even less impaired—were “liberated” from the burden of life by those enthusiastic proponents of culling the herd, the National Socialists. An estimated four hundred thousand “imbeciles” were euthanized during Hitler’s rule, but not before they were the subjects of all sorts of medical experimentation. For a while there, Austria seemed to have cornered the market on brains in jars.

The idea of outright murdering “nature’s mistakes,” as the disabled were called, was softened somewhat in the United States. As the psychiatrist Leo Kanner was observing and defining autism, he was also lobbying for sterilization, but not death, of disabled populations. This was considered a progressive view at the time. (He believed there were all sorts of repetitive tasks autistic people could perform that would be good for society, and he wasn’t wrong here, that’s for sure. But we didn’t have computer programming at the time, so he proposed a population of ditch diggers and oyster shuckers.) Around the same time Hans Asperger, the Austrian pediatrician who was the first to identify autism as a unique mental condition, was concluding that “not everything that steps out of the line, and is thus ‘abnormal,’ must necessarily be ‘inferior.’”

That was an even more radical line of thought, and one society struggles with to this day. But wherever you stand on this question, when you start considering how the history of disability is inextricably intertwined with the history of euthanizing and enforced sterilization, you come away unsettled. I began to question my certainty that Gus should never have kids. There is a good success rate in vasectomy reversals, and surely there will be even easier, more reversible methods for men soon. And when there are, I’m going to be the first in line to sign him up. Kids at twenty or twenty-five? No. Thirty-five? I can hope.

I know this is a long quote, but I wanted to share it because I think it’s noteworthy that Newman is aware of the history of eugenics. She knows that it’s the ideology that Nazis used to justify the Holocaust; she knows that it’s been used in the United States to discriminate against disabled people. She knows that it’s a racist and antisemitic tool of oppression. And yet, she still wants to forcibly sterilize her son.

She reiterates her stance in Chapter 13, after watching her son go on a date.

Newman repeatedly emphasizes that vasectomies are reversible, as though that’s a justification for medical abuse. That’s not always true, though:

It's best to consider a vasectomy to be completely permanent. Although the procedure is reversible, and advances in microsurgery techniques have made vasectomy reversal far more successful in recent decades, it is not always a guaranteed success.

...

If fewer than three years have passed since the original vasectomy, patency success rates are around 97 percent and pregnancy success rates are 76 percent. But success rates can fall over time. In men who had a vasectomy 15 years or more before their reversal, the likelihood of restoring the vas deferens is 71 percent and chances of subsequent pregnancy hover around 30 percent.

Since Newman states that she wants to have power of attorney to make a decision about a vasectomy when her son turns 18, and since she later says that she “can hope” her son might have children at 35, it’s most likely that the lower rates of success would be the relevant statistics.

More importantly, though, I think we can all agree that abuse is still abuse even if the medical effects truly are reversible.

If the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy is such a major concern, wouldn’t the best solution be sex education, the same as any child needs? Newman has some thoughts on this in Chapter 13:

Nobody really thinks she has to teach her children about sex. I mean, not really, not in the way you might have to teach them, say, how to use a credit card (amazing how fast they catch on to that). Kids learn the basics of reproduction, what goes where, and then their natural curiosity takes over. They ask a zillion questions, of either you or their idiot friends, and eventually they figure it out.

This strikes me as rather irresponsible. Newman assumes that all parents share her position on this, but I find that very unlikely; at the very least, my own parents were much more proactive than Newman seems to be. Sex education is too important a topic to leave up to chance. Especially when you consider that a key part of autism is struggling with communication, it’s irresponsible to assume that an autistic child will be able to know the right questions to ask, and also that he’ll be comfortable enough to talk about it on his own.

Newman mentions trying to discuss sex with her son, again in Chapter 13:

... it was very distressing that he seemed to not understand anything about reproduction and sexually transmitted disease, never mind anything about affection and romance. Could I let him be in high school—even a high school for other special ed kids—with this degree of ignorance? But I just didn’t know how to broach the subject, because when I mentioned it—“Gus, do you know where babies come from?”—he’d say, “They come from mommies,” and then continue talking about the weather or sea turtles or whatever happened to be on his mind at that moment.

At another point in the book (Chapter 8), Newman describes a time when Gus’s brother teasingly asks him where babies come from, and Gus changes the subject. From this, and from the above quote, Newman assumes that her son knows nothing about sex, but she never considers the possibility that he might be embarrassed to talk about it. This may be because of her bizarre belief that her son can’t feel embarrassment.

From Chapter 6:

But what if you have a child who cannot be embarrassed by you—and doesn’t understand when he embarrasses you? What then? Nothing makes you appreciate the ability to be embarrassed more than having a child immune from embarrassment.

Later in the same chapter:

Do I want my son to feel self-conscious and embarrassed? I do. Yes. Gus does not yet have self-awareness, and embarrassment is part of self-awareness. It is an acknowledgment that you live in a world where people may think differently than you do. Shame humbles and shame teaches. One side of the no-shame equation is ruthlessness, and often success. But if you live on the side Gus does, the rainbows and unicorns and “what’s wrong with walking through a crowd naked” side of shamelessness, you never truly understand how others think or feel. I want him to understand the norm, even if ultimately he rejects it.

This is actually a fairly common misunderstanding for neurotypicals to have: that if an autistic person doesn’t show an emotion the same way that a neurotypical person does, they must not experience that emotion. Still, you’d think that a mother writing a book about her autistic child would make the effort to figure out if her assumptions were true, or at least that an editor might have brought this to attention. Since it seems that no one involved in the book’s publishing process seems to have figured this out, let me clarify: Autistic people absolutely feel embarrassment. In fact, I’d say it’s a major factor in the prevalence of depression and anxiety among autistic people because of the social rejection many if not all of us have had to deal with.

Back to the original point, however: In Chapter 13, Newman looks through her son’s internet search history (ignoring the “tiny flicker of alarm in Gus’s eyes” - because, after all, he can’t be embarrassed, right?) and finds the porn that he’d been looking at. Clearly, then, he has more understanding of sexuality than Newman realizes, but as far as anyone knows, he’s had to learn it from porn rather than his parents.

As anyone reading this probably already knows, Newman has faced a lot of criticism about her book. For the most part, she’s responded to it badly. Some of her reaction can be seen in this article from the Observer:

While Newman’s stories are meant to be humorous, one of the hallmarks of people with autism is that they think literally and have difficulty understanding jokes. Newman knew this and wrote it that way on purpose.

“This book really wasn’t written for an autistic audience,” she said. “It was written for parents, neighbors, people who may love and hopefully will work with someone who is on the spectrum.”

Setting aside the childish implication that anyone who disagrees with her book must not understand it, what stands out to me in this quote is how unreasonable it is to write a book about autistic people and which affects autistic people and then to say it’s not “for an autistic audience.”

A common mantra for disability activism is “Nothing about us without us” - that is to say, we have a right to be involved in things that affect us. In the above quote, Newman stands against this maxim. She assumes that she can say whatever she wants about without being criticized - and that she can communicate her ideas to all of the people around autistic people without any consideration for autistic people themselves.

Newman doubles down on this in a tweet from a few days ago:

Beginning to think well meaning people of #actuallyautistic are in fact enemies of free thought and free speech.  Which is not so good, coming from a group who say they’ve been silenced.

This tweet equates us with oppressive censors rather than people who’ve been hurt by her work. She portrays us as unreasonable for opposing eugenics against our community.

We might sigh a small breath of relief from this quote from the Observer article: 

“I am much less worried now and hoping to be a grandmother someday,” she [Newman] said. “That’s a result of my son’s growth and my own.”

That may be good news for her son, but it’s far too little too late for the autistic community at large. Her book is still being printed as it was written. We still have to contend with a critically acclaimed book that advocates for eugenics. There is a great deal of ignorance about autism in our society, and now the ideas in this popular book will be what some of that ignorance is replaced with.