#like there are core memories associated with those albums

[kvtnisseverdeen]

GET TO KNOW ME MEME: FAVORITE MUSICIANS

↳ TAYLOR SWIFT

“There’s a part of me that definitely is always going to be different. I needed to grow up in many ways. I needed to make boundaries, to figure out what was mine and what was the public’s. That old version of me that shares unfailingly and unblinkingly with a world that is probably not fit to be shared with? I think that’s gone. “

[degloved]

we're never getting reputation (taylor's version) and here's why:

1. the color-coding

taylor's discography is very obviously and deliberately color-coded, each album strongly associated with a particular color or shade. although there is some overlap (1989's light blue vs midnights' dark blue), the variations are distinct enough to avoid any confusion between them. in that sense, b&w is an extremely inflexible color assignment, on account of not being... well, not a color. b&w is b&w (not to be confused with folklore's grey; monochrome ≠ b&w), there aren't exactly many (or any, as it were) ways to stretch that palette to the extent it'd successfully take on an identity (album) of its own. which i believe blondie is aware of, and on that basis i believe it was a deliberate choice. and why? it's not as though she'd exhausted all of her options. there are colors she has yet to use, as well as different shades, tones, and tints of already used colors that would've been just as viable. why take this extremely particular and inflexible palette and, essentially, risk shifting that association from one album to another? unless she wasn't risking anything.

2. the pre-ttpd announcement period

as is customary for her, in the weeks before the official announcement of ttpd, all of taylor's social medias began taking on a b&w color scheme. the same had happened with purple and speak now (taylor's version), with light blue and 1989 (taylor's version), so on and so forth. a kind of unique mass-hysteria ensued as all signs pointed to reputation (taylor's version.) as it turned out, every last one of us was wrong in that assumption. if reputation (tv) were to drop, she'd have to go the b&w route again—which, for one, would in this case be predictable (we got bamboozled once, no way is it happening again) and that's very much not her style; and for two... there'd be no novelty. doing the same bit twice, really? not her!

3. the themes of reputation

reputation centered two core concepts: joe & falling out of public favor. a "good" thing and a "bad" thing. this would remain true for several years after the fact, yet no longer is—instead having turned into two "bad" things. i would not blame her if she chose not to return to this notably awful period of her life by way of re-recording, especially given the fact that the thing—person—that was once a shining star in all that proverbial darkness simply blends into the void with the way things are now. and while, yes, she had re-recorded songs about her exes, she'd only done so after a long while has passed. not only was this the longest relationship she's ever had and therefore likely uniquely devastating, the breakup itself is also very recent.

4. the contrast and the timing

and continuing the last point, only last year she'd dropped a couple devastating songs about this relationship on midnights, followed by more than a fair share of them on ttpd. doubtless she's still moving on/healing (judging by ttpd); i simply do not see her delving into an album that'd dredge up all those memories of the good times, the better times—not to mention that ttpd and rep are as antithetical to each other as it gets. if she'd recorded lover any earlier and had no ownership of it, for very similar reasons i wouldn't believe she'd re-record that one either.

4. the ttpd logo (NOT!!! my finding!)

now i never put much stock into this when i first saw it, as whoever had found it had taken it to mean "yay reputation (tv) soon!" and i simply did not agree. i actually thought it was a really freaky coincidence. bc, c'mon. let's be serious. however, i did realize it sort of fits remarkably well into my "ttpd is replacing rep because ttpd is reputation (taylor's version) in fewer words."

5. thanK you aIMee

kim? we're talking about kim now? who was maybe relevant around the year 2017? around the release of rep? oh. okay. i'm sure that means nothing

but that's just a theory... a game theory.

[herequeerexitentialfear]

👾!!!

Thank you!! sorry this took so long, i rewrote it because i was not coherent with my previous choice! and then had to transcribe the lyrics myself.

Human Algebra! from the album of the same name by the Selector! im probably overdue talking about it given its important enough to Celia to have her stand named after it.

Cold ground was his bed last night, Rock his pillow to Cold ground was his bed last night, Rock his pillow to Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue oh boy you better run, look what you've done no joy will ever come, from that kind of fun your friends just ran away, left you all alone blood red stains the gray, cold paving stones

Human Algebra is a song about knife crime, and the tragedy of young lives cut short by said knife crime. i feel weird about relating it to a character, but given its constant presence in my life i think i can, if that matters in any way. Knife crime is a major issue in the uk, both not taken seriously enough and taken too seriously [depending on who was involved]

For Celia, its very much about her death at the hands of the violent she finds herself, and i find the song captures that haunted environment, the overwhelming grief and almost sickening tragedy. the beat is technically up, but the lyrics are haunting and no matter how fun it is to dance to, they stick with you.

Celia's story is a tragic one, an opera, full of grief and pain and violence, and the song reflects that well. Celia gained her stand after weeks of fighting, where many young people were left to bleed out on cold paving stones, and those weeks taught her that little fun was to be found in violence. Celia herself was bleeding out in the process of getting her stand, and in many ways, it feels to her like she died then and there, and all that's left is a ghost.

the haunting chorus of 'Mama so blue' really resonates with Celia's constant grief over her mother, and her constant questioning of how her mother feels about who she is now.

the song is seemingly upbeat and yet so tragic, and for all i love it, its haunting lyrics leave me feeling uncomfortable every time i listen. its a very unsettling song to me, digging up old memories.

and thats why i think its fitting for Celia- a song about tragedy of young life cut short and the grief it causes, with her being both the victim and perpetrator, as well as her stand representing her mother, protecting her child, and decrying the tragedy of her child life.

quickfire lyric association & then full transcript-ed lyrics under the cut:

another day finds Wednesdays child, with nowhere to run- Celia rarely has anywhere to run to, always cornered and limited in her options,

you fell to far, and the well so deep, slumber now, my little one, born on the street- Celia's 'death' from getting in over her head and her telling her younger self to rest

nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, you only think about yourself and got no pride- Celia's core charecter- if you just expand 'yourself' to a few more people.

Full lyrics as transcribed by me, italics are where im uncertain of my words used.

Cold ground was his bed last night, Rock his pillow to Cold ground was his bed last night, Rock his pillow to

Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue

oh boy you better run, look what you've done no joy will ever come, from that kind of fun

your friends just ran away, left you all alone blood red stains the gray, cold paving stones

Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue

caught on camera, a tragic opera, many points of view, words of wise are true, Human Algebra

Close you eyes, daylights to bright, here comes the sun, another day finds Wednesdays child, with nowhere to run

bright less bombs, you fell to far, and the well so deep, slumber now, my little one, born on the street

Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue

caught on camera, a tragic opera, many points of view, words of wise are true, Human Algebra

nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, you only think about yourself and got no pride Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, got to sell the ship on the pass safe side

Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue

Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue Mama so blue, mama so blue, mama so blue

Cold ground was his bed last night, rock his pillow to Cold ground was his bead last night, rock his pillow to

[mt07131]

hiii 👀 for bestie maeve: retro, persona, bandmates, lyrics, seven <333

Hiii bestie 💕💕💕 Under the cut bc it got long

Infamous ask game

Retro: What was the first CD they ever bought with their own money? Do they still have it? Do they still like it?

So I touched on this in one of my snippets for her (shameless self plug 😌) but the first CD she was ever able to buy with her own money was Riot! by Paramore. She still has the original copy she bought at the solid age of 10, and yes she still likes it, loves it actually. It was her first rock album and to see one with a female lead singer is what planted the seed of her being able to do that.

Persona: How does their day-to-day personality compare to their on-stage persona?

The biggest difference between Maeve Divine and Maeve is that she's way more exaggerated on stage. She really leans into the performance aspect of everything when on stage, but all of those elements of her personality are still present when she's not screaming on stage. She's maybe a little toned down and there's a more vulnerable side that really only comes out around people she's close to (i.e. the band), but she really doesn't put on that much of an act on stage.

Bandmates: How do they feel about the members of the band? Would they still be interested in stardom if they weren’t with that group?

She loves the rest of the band, they’re her best friends. Meeting them was really the first time someone else (other than Seven) understood her. With August in particular, since they’re new, she was a little hesitant because of the fact that they weren’t there since the conception of RS, but their skills were impressive enough that she was willing to take that chance. Because of that, she wants to make sure that they feel welcome, that they’re not an outsider simply because they weren’t in that core founding group. And I think she would still be interested in stardom without this group, but having this group makes it infinitely better. She wants to be seen and be heard, and doing that with her closest friends is something she is extremely grateful for.

Lyrics: What are some songs you associate with your character? Any specific lyrics that really scream your character?

So I do have her character playlist (which I am gonna push again because I’m annoying about it) but here’s a few highlights:

Halestorm- Strange Girl Cast me out, abandon me / Write me off for dead / Ridiculed, made to feel like I'm your deepest dread / You say, "She's such a strange girl" / Such a strange girl / The world needs strange girls / Just like me

Tessa Violet- YES MOM 20-20 vision with ambition's how I'm made / I can't keep from winning when it's in my DNA / Push me down and I bounce right back / Trampoline and it's in my past / Rising like a phoenix making fire from the ash

Black Veil Brides- Heart Of Fire This heart of fire is burning proud / I am every dream you lost and never found / This heart of fire is stronger now / Build your walls but you can't keep me out / I'll burn 'em down

(Ask me one day about the playlist analysis docs I have for both the her + her/seven playlists)

Seven: Do you have headcanons about their friendship and/or romantic relationship (past or future)? What do you imagine some of their best memories are? What do you think some of Seven’s favorite things about your MC were/are?

I do headcanon that their friendship started because Maeve chimed in during a class with a very strict teacher and saved Seven’s ass from a question he didn’t know the answer to. He wanted to thank her afterwards, they started talking, and the rest was history.

At some point in high school, both of them had a crush on the other, but neither of them said anything because of not wanting to ruin their friendship if the other didn’t feel the same way. That goes to show just how connected they were that they had the same reasoning. It was also incredibly obvious to the rest of the band that they liked each other that way, they were not subtle

Honestly, some of their best memories are the most mundane. For example, Maeve is a very physical person with her affection, so even when they were just friends (and crushing) she was all over Seven when they hung out. Head in his lap, on his shoulder, sprawled all over him, she’s clingy. That’s how they wrote songs together, literally on top of each other.

I like to think that one of Seven’s favorite things about Maeve is just her dedication to this dream. She threw everything she had into it, he watched her toil for hours over things like hand-studding her lucky leather jacket (one that she still wears to this day, like to the BOTB auditions). She had a dream, and while the plan came eventually, she never stopped dreaming, which he admired.

[narcissasdaffodil]

Songs for your LIs

Thanks for the tag @banirareiko @thatwheelchairchick and @follies-fixture

Tagging @sailorpleiades @hopeshoodie @notasdriedapricots and @starsarestars Hopefully you haven’t already been tagged in this! I’m exceptionally shit at remembering who hasn’t been tagged, and participating in these things in general. I’m exceptionally boring with these things, as I have one core song per LI, and that’s literally it. This is going to get long, and analytical, that’s part of the reason it’s took me so long to write this thing! This is all Taylor Swift, and I doubt that’s a surprise.

Marisol:

Delicate by Taylor Swift:

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

I absolutely adore this song. And Taylor Swift in general, but that much is obvious. Delicate is my favourite song on Reputation, and I related to it when I was at my worst in the past. It gave me inspiration to start rebuilding, and means so much to me. I do associate Marisol herself with my own recovery process. I’m not going into details, but I was in a very dark place with my mental health and autistic burnout three or four years ago, and it’s taken me a while to rebuild. Autistic burnout is definitely no joke, and it’s difficult to recover from. Having LITG and Marisol herself there really helped me start to rebuild.

Also, I’m not great with hidden meanings, but someone pointed out years ago that this song is similar to the start of her route. I agree, after Rocco everything’s all rocky, then even though she’s scared, she starts something new with MC. Pushing past the fear of something new, and being rejected is hard, and I remember how excited I was when her route properly started. I know I was scared to let myself recover, as I didn’t know who I even was without my mental health stuff. I still don’t, not really. My personality is a mystery to me, and I’m still learning who I even am.

I headcanon that Marisol hasn’t had much experience with women, so Delicate being a song about being terrified to give yourself up to someone new fits well for her. She has tall walls, and reminds me of a pineapple, or a cat with her claws out. It’s all about finding someone who’s willing to risk getting scratched or clawed, and helping her learn to trust someone new. MC is her best friend in the Villa, so she’s terrified of losing her closest friend. She has Hope and Bobby too, but MC has a special place in her heart. That fear of letting herself go or allowing herself to be vulnerable is very understandable.

Lucas

The Archer by Taylor Swift:

I've been the archer,

I've been the prey

Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

Yet another Taylor Swift song! This is my other song link, I only have them for Marisol and Lucas, not for my other LIs. This one reminds me of Casa Amor, and how Lucas’ anxiety caused him to bring back Blake. He became doubtful of MC’s loyalty after Blake messed with his head. This song shows how he let his insecurities get the better of him, and how he wants to trust MC, but he can’t after Blake put those insecurities into his head. I even wrote a fic linked to this song for him, too. It’s my favourite song on Lover by far, and Lover is one of my favourite albums of hers.

Both of them

New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift:

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

Hold on to the memories

They will hold on to you

And I will hold on to you

This is the final song, and yet another Taylor Swift one! I’ve also used this for a Marisol fic previously, and this is one of my other favourites from Reputation. Call It What You Want is my third, I only like three Reputation songs. This song makes me think of the long term, how it’s a plan to always be in their life. How you want to hold on tightly to the person you care about, and how you care about them so deeply. This to me is a promise that they’ll stay despite their mistakes (Roccogate, and the making someone jealous crap with Marisol, and Casa Amor and Blake with Lucas) and they’ll find a way to work through it. It gives me hope that mistakes don’t mean it’s the end.

[unknwnxquantity]

I wanna share this. The realization came to me last night. I feel like memories give you a high. Music especially when you haven’t listened to a song in years, or barely ever listen to it, can give you a major hit of the memories from when those said memories were created. Like with me, I can trace a song/album back to when it was first introduced to me, if it was in past years in my life. I’d say within the past decade of my life, I can pinpoint a given era a song relates to in my life, the person/ppl I can trace it back to (who introduced it to me or shares the song with me), where exactly I was when I first heard it or when the song became important? to me, the memories associated with that time period and with them, etc. It can be a strong hit. And you want more of it! But the more you overplay the song, trying to get that hit back of the memories it brings, the less of a hit you get overtime.. the more the memories start to fade into it. It’s kinda like a drug. The more you do it, the less it’s effective. Itll never be like that first high again when you first remember that core memory. Unless you space it out again and don’t listen to the song for years, but then it’s not the same 1 association anymore, but now different memory associations, alongside that original chain of memories. Are you following me? Wow.

The more you think of a chain of memories, the more it’ll eventually fade. It’s kinda sad and ironic. The more you want to hold it in your mind, the more it eventually leaves. Just like everything else in life. Balance!

I feel the same way about scents. A glimpse of someone’s perfume can take you back to the person who wore it, or if you smell a candle and it smells like a chemical from 2006 and that time in life. Your childhood. It’s funny candles, perfumes/colognes, shampoos, etc all reuse the same goddamn scents. And they’re bad for you and your hormones!! But it’s still a nice hit of remembrance.

[thesinglesjukebox]

OKAN - "ORIKI OSHUN"

Dorian offers us a prayer...

[8.25]

Dorian Sinclair: OKAN's invocation of the goddess Oshun has real power to it, and, as befits a deity so strongly associated with water, real depth as well. The layers of percussion, synth and violin are ever-changing, finding new ways to refract off each other as they wrap around Elizabeth Rodriguez's vocal lead. And what a voice it is -- expressive, forceful, and somehow simultaneously commanding and vulnerable. I don't speak Lucumi, but Rodriguez easily conveys both loss and resilience, as the shifting tides of the instrumentation pool around her. [10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The religious services that I have always found meaning within are all exercises in tension and release -- the interplay of hunger, memory, and forgiveness embedded within the day long arc of a Yom Kippur service, the slow, trance-like waking of the early-morning Thai Buddhist rituals my mother and aunt would take me to as a kid. "Oriki Oshun" is not of those particular traditions, but it captures in its four minutes a similar build, sticking tight to a perfectly struck groove until the track flowers into something more, a feast of guitars and chants and rushes of drums that feels like exaltation. [8]

Will Adams: The urgency and energy cultivated in the song's main section -- with bustling percussion, Rodriguez's commanding vocal, that blazing guitar solo -- feels like it could be sustained for over ten minutes. OKAN know better, though, and restrict themselves to four minutes, allowing the silence following the prayer to speak volumes. [7]

Ian Mathers: That guitar solo feels a bit late period Santana-core in context, but in context it actually really works for me. Even without reading the description on YouTube and knowing the (personal, harrowing) context behind its creation "Oriki Oshun" feels like it earns the sense of drama and grandeur that builds and builds throughout the song. [7]

Peter Ryan: Magdelys Savigne's blistering percussion is so overpowering that it took me a few listens to key into Rodriguez's vital rhythmic violin-work that underpins most of the track, two obvious virtuosos propelling each other from vibey ceremonial first half through a tenacious conclusion. More prayers should have this urgency. [8]

Michael Hong: As prayer music should be, OKAN's offering is lively, trading electric guitar licks and urgent drums in exchange for a demand for protection. If the chant offers something repetitive, Rodriguez forces her voice to offer something more, wailing as if wondering if it's all enough. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: One of the many public narratives about Lido Pimienta was her leadership capabilities for young brown girls. But the best example of leadership is by example; Lido brought OKAN on tour with her, four months after their first album dropped. And in the time since, they have released a second, even better album, collaborated with Bomba Estéreo and Lido again, featured on Miss Colombia and lost a child. They now ask Oshun for protection for their new child's life, with a stunning violin solo that winds across the branches of the drums and trunk of the bass into an outstretched hand, waiting, the ebbing synth notes a question mark on whether they have received the blessing. A prayer we are all allowed to hear because of Lido. [10]

Tara Hillegeist: My fondness for popular culture often runs me at odds with my personal interest in leaving a stranger's grief at their doorstep, out of my earshot, where I believe it belongs unless I've already been invited in to share, communally, in their lives beforehand, to such degree that I can no longer credibly accuse myself of being unknown to them anymore. I am not willing to play the thief of another's sorrows nor call that performance "compassion." As such, upon being presented with the very real experience inspiring this song's creation, I personally felt it would be too inappropriate to engage with the song within the confines of the Jukebox format, and thus... I chose to set it aside, until or unless I could find a means to reconcile my own convictions about the use case or lack thereof for a blurb and the material at hand. It's been about a month since then. What changed my mind? Well -- I couldn't stop listening to the song itself. And it was somewhere in those listens that I realized I was making a stiff-backed fool of myself for the sake of my principles. It's difficult to hear something as welcoming, as open, as purely delightful-as-in-"full of delight" as "Oriki Oshun" and feel something besides invited in. This is songcraft as community-healing practice, whatever its origins: a plea rooted in hope, motivated by its grievous origins to kick up a righteous enough noise that it can chase that pain far, far away, where its echoes can reach home no longer. And I, at least, shall not continue to fear dancing with it, together. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[littlect]

Album Review: La La Land by Wax Fang

There was never anything there in the first place

My association with this album is a weird one. About a decade ago, I was first exposed to Wax Fang through the show American Dad, when they used the opening track "Majestic" in an episode. I liked the song back then, but being fairly young I wasn't invested in music enough to really take note of it. Cut to last year and a friend of mine happened to play "Majestic" again, bringing back the memory of the song as well as my love for it. With this context in mind, I thought I would finally do my due diligence and check out the full album, and I'm happy to say that La La Land did not disappoint. With this album, Wax Fang craft an album that is built on the foundations of 70s/80s glam rock. Scott Carney's lead vocals are somewhat eclectic, yet still fit this style in a similar way to vocalists like David Bowie. This almost-nostalgic style is the main focus of the album, with plenty of anthemic songs scattered throughout. There are some creative aspects of this album which break the glam rock mold, such as the use of 3/4 and 5/4 time signatures in various tracks which add some nice flair (especially the instrumental track "Avant Guardian Angel Dust"). There are also some moments of soft emotion which play really nicely, especially in the openings of both "Majestic" and "Wake Up, Sleepyhead!". I would also be remiss were I not to mention the echoed kazoo solo which makes up most of "At Sea", ultimately building into the next track, "Cannibal Summer". Despite my praises, this album is not without its flaws. The biggest among them consists of moments where the glam rock style shifts from a solid core to a distracting crutch, such as on tracks like "The Doctor Will See You Now", which is just a little too lacking in substance beyond its style in my opinion. These moments, luckily, are sparse in the album's 48-minute runtime. There is also an argument to be made that some tracks blend together a little too much given the similar style that the whole project builds on, but in the context of the record I don't think this happens all too much, given that even the less unique cuts on here still make for a good listen. Overall, I would highly recommend this album for those interested in a unique, modern approach to some nostalgic glam rock. I myself expect to be listening to the intro and outro of this album for a long time to come.

[oliverlassiter]

Unique Gifts For University Students - The Pink Dvd Player

But cho thuê laptop hà nội needs a laptop everyone of the work-time. This may be because will not travel constantly. When they use computers, the team desktop computers in house or office. But when they travel, they'll find that need another one. If you need once a little few times per year, it most likely are not a choice to the actual money to acquire one. Normally it is better to rent another. If you decide that to be able to get the least expensive laptop you need to have to select a refurbished one, you ought of do your homework time effectively. Again, you want to you'll want to it has enough memory and disc space and also the associated with screen and keyboard such as. Read all the specs to specific it has what components. After researching and discovering what a refurbished laptop has can decide to the online deals and purchasers on a fabulous laptop.

Vinyl albums represent nostalgia, and the DVD obtained care of there too. The experience of visiting a retail DVD rental store is often underappreciated. For movie connoisseur like myself, there is not greater joy than thumbing through aisles of DVD releases. Those numerous times that you struck a conversation that isn't person aside from laptop rental you with "That was pretty good, I'd propose that one for sure" were genuine moments of interaction and communication. You might still have those conversations in the future, but they'll attend your local used-DVD stock. There are a couple of reasons individuals are inspired to rent a laptop. Usually considered wise to rent rather than a quantity of them as a very short period, for instance training class or a workshop. Anyone have run a questionable income scheme with a short-term staff, you'll need do not have to purchase permanent setups. It would not be wise to generate something permanent for a short lived business. Something which laptop computers for a business trip and you must have a little spot of flexibility, then renting you are likely to be an effective option. Each rental plan a person to to rent movies online but only so many at the perfect opportunity. For example, purchase are around 1 movie per month plan, you've got to return each DVD replicate next is actually mailed you r. Saves time- you can discover titles quicker and can organize them in your favorites post. There is a good search engine so you will find a title by actor, genre, title etc. The DVDs get to the mail and include packaging different the return quick and straightforward. Netflix has eight diet plans. The prices range from 9.99 1 movie each time to forty seven.99 for 8 movies out at any gives time period. Blockbuster has four plans, again starting at on the lookout for.99 for one movie out at a time full and intensifying to 12.99 for 4 DVDS out at a real kick. Apple has boosted the performance with this machine by upgrading the processor on the 1.7GHz ULV (ultra low-voltage) Core-i5 processer. In Geek bench (software used assess the performance of laptop PCs), the 13" Air achieved a score of 5,860. Wishes higher when compared to the 11" Air's score of 5,040 and not only just far behind the 13" MacBook Pro that scored 6,446. But keep inside your that the MacBook Pro is powered by a total voltage two or three.3GHz Core-i5 processor. This factor has played a significant role in improving its Geek bench score.

[oflgtfol]

words cannot DESCRIBE how much i love self-ish by wwatt like. i love this album so much you have no damn idea

i think i discovered it right at the beginning of 2020, so it really Defined january 2020 for me. so as we head into another winter it’s all i can think about, those cold january nights that got dark so early, listening to this fucking album constantly...

i also remember early february, sitting in the school library doing my writing assignments or writing out my physics notes and listening to it, always wondering if i had my music on too high so that i was accidentally subjecting other ppl to it LMFAO

[essaysbyciara]

It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane. 

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up. 

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light. 

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.” 

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word.  She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer. 

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!” 

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like. 

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit,  social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.” 

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could. 

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…” 

“Man,  he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you. 

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed. 

“Aight, fave. I will.  Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.” 

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake. 

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel. 

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it. 

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name. 

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same. 

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible. 

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena. 

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again. 

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena. 

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy… 

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell. 

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol 

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it. 

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi. 

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him? 

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh. 

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really--  and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days,  weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request. 

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot. 

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram. 

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection. 

End of Part I

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift appears to be waging war over the serial resale of her old master recordings on two fronts. She recently confirmed that she is already underway in the process of re-recording the six albums she made for the Big Machine label, in order to steer her fans (and sync licensing execs) toward the coming alternate versions she’ll control. But now that she’s followed the surprise release of “Folklore” with the very, very surprise release of “Evermore” less than five months later, the thought may occur: If she keeps up this pace, she may have more new albums out on the Republic label than she ever did on Big Machine in a quarter of the time. Flooding the zone to further crowd out the oldies is unlikely to be Swift’s real motivation for giving the world a full-blown “Folklore” sequel this instantaneously: As motivations for prolific activity go, relieving and sublimating quarantine pressure is probably even better than revenge. Anyway, this is not a gift horse to be looked in the mouth. “Evermore,” like its mid-pandemic predecessor, feels like something that’s been labored over — in the best possible way — for years, not something that was written and recorded beginning in August, with the bow said to be put on it only about a week ago. Albums don’t get graded on a curve for how hastily they came together, or shouldn’t be, but this one doesn’t need the handicap. It’d be a jewel even if it’d been in progress forevermore and a day.The closest analog for the relation the new album bears to its predecessor might be one that’d seem ancient to much of Swift’s audience: U2 following “Achtung Baby” with “Zooropa” while still touring behind the previous album. It’s hard to remember now that a whole year and a half separated those two related projects; In that very different era, it seemed like a ridiculously fast follow-up. But the real comparison lies in how U2, having been rewarded for making a pretty gutsy change of pace with “Achtung,” seemed to say: You’re okay with a little experimentation? Let’s see how you like it when we really boil things down to our least commercial impulses, then — while we’ve still got you in the mood.Swift isn’t going avant-garde with “Evermore.” If anything, she’s just stripping things down to even more of an acoustic core, so that the new album often sounds like the folk record that the title of the previous one promised — albeit with nearly subliminal layers of Mellotrons, flutes, French horns and cellos that are so well embedded beneath the profuse finger-picking, you probably won’t notice them till you scour the credits. But it’s taking the risk of “Folklore” one step further by not even offering such an obvious banger (irony intended) as “Cardigan.” Aaron Dessner of the National produced or co-produced about two-thirds of the last record, but he’s on 14 out of 15 tracks here (Jack Antonoff gets the remaining spot), and so the new album is even more all of a piece with his arpeggiated chamber-pop impulses, Warmth amid iciness is a recurring lyrical motif here, and kind of a musical one, too, as Swift’s still increasingly agile vocal acting breathes heat into arrangements that might otherwise seem pretty controlled. At one point Swift sings, “Hey, December, I’m feeling unmoored,” like a woman who might even know she’s going to put her album out a couple of weeks before Christmas. It’s a wintry record — suitable for double-cardigan wearing! — and if you’re among the 99% who have been feeling unmoored, too, then perhaps you are Ready For It. Swift said in announcing the album that she was moving further into fiction songwriting after finding out it was a good fit on much of “Folklore,” a probably inevitable move for someone who’s turning 31 in a few days and appears to have a fairly settled personal life. Which is not to say that there aren’t scores to settle, and a few intriguing tracks whose real-life associations will be speculated upon. But just as the “Betty”/”August” love triangle of mid-year established that modern pop’s most celebrated confessional writer can just make shit up, too, so, here, do we get the narrator of “Dorothea,” a honey in Tupelo who is telling a childhood friend who moved away and became famous that she’s always welcome back in her hometown. (Swift may be doing a bit of empathic wondering in a couple of tracks here how it feels to be at the other end of the telescope.) One time the album takes a turn away from rumination into a pure spirit of fun — while getting dark anyway — is “No Body, No Crime,” a spirited double-murder ballad that may have more than a little inspiration in “Goodbye, Earl.” Since Swift already used the Dixie Chicks for background vocals two albums ago, for this one she brings in two of the sisters from Haim, Danielle and Este, and even uses the latter’s name for one of the characters. Yes, the rock band Haim’s featured appearance is on the only really country-sounding song on the record… there’s one you didn’t see coming, in the 16 hours you had to wonder about it. Yet there are also a handful of songs that clearly represent a Swiftian state of mind. At least, it’s easy to suppose that the love songs that opens the album, “Willow,” is a cousin to the previous record’s “Invisible String” and “Peace,” even if it doesn’t offer quite as many clearly corroborating details about her current relationship as those did. On the sadder side, Swift is apparently determined to run through her entire family tree for heartrending material. On “Lover,” she sang for her stricken mother; on “Folklore,” for her grandfather in wartime. In that tradition the new album offers “Marjorie,” about the beloved grandmother she lost in 2003, when she was 13. (The lyric videos that are being offered online mostly offer static visual loops, but the one for “Marjorie” is an exception, reviving a wealth of stills and home-movie footage of Grandma, who was quite a looker in a miniskirt in her day.) Rue is not something Swift is afraid of here anymore than anywhere else, as she sings, “I should’ve asked you questions / I should’ve asked you how to be / Asked you to write it down for me / Should’ve kept every grocery store receipt / ‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me,” lines that will leave a dry eye only in houses that have never known death. The piece de resistance in its poignance is Swift actually resurrecting faint audio clips of Marjorie, who was an opera singer back in the day. It’s almost like ELO’s “Rockaria,” played for weeping instead of a laugh. Swift has not given up, thank God, on the medium that brought her to the dance — the breakup song — but most of them here have more to do with dimming memories and the search for forgiveness, however slowly and incompletely achieved, than feist. But doesn’t Swift know that we like her when she’s angry? She does, and so she delves deep into something like venom just once, but it’s a good one. The ire in “Closure,” a pulsating song about an unwelcome “we can still be friends, right?” letter from an ex, seems so fresh and close to the surface that it would be reasonable to speculate that it is not about a romantic relationship at all, but a professional one she has no intention of ever recalling in a sweet light. Or maybe she does harbor that a disdain for an actual former love with that machinelike a level of intensity. What “Evermore” is full of is narratives that, like the music that accompanies them, really come into focus on second or third listen, usually because of a detail or two that turns her sometimes impressionistic modes completely vivid. “Champagne Problems” is a superb example of her abilities as a storyteller who doesn’t always tell all: She’s playing the role of a woman who quickly ruins a relationship by balking at a marriage proposal the guy had assumed was an easy enough yes that he’d tipped off his nearby family. “Sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘ Til someone’s on their knees and asks you / ‘She would’ve made such a lovely bride / What a shame she’s fucked in the head’ / They said / But you’ll find the real thing instead / She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.” (Swift has doubled the F-bomb quotient this time around, among other expletives, for anyone who may be wondering whether there’s rough wordplay amid Dessner’s delicacy — that would an effing yes.) “‘Tis the Damn Season,” representing a gentler expletive, gives us a character who is willing to settle, or at least share a Christmas-time bed with an ex back in the hometown, till something better comes along. The pleasures here are shared, though not many more fellow artists have broken into her quarantine bubble this time around. Besides Haim’s cameo, Marcus Mumford offers a lovely harmony vocal on “Cowboy Like Me,” which might count as the other country song on the album, and even throws in something Swift never much favored in her Nashville days, a bit of lap steel. Its tale of male and female grifters meeting and maybe — maybe — falling in love is really more determinedly Western than C&W, per se, though. The National itself, as a group, finally gets featured billing on “Coney Island,” with Matt Berninger taking a duet vocal on a track that recalls the previous album’s celebrated Bon Iver collaboration “Exile,” with ex-lovers taking quiet turns deciding who was to blame. (Swift saves the rare laugh line for herself: “We were like the mall before the internet / It was the one place to be.) Don’t worry, legions of new Bon Iver fans: Dessner has not kicked Justin Vernon out of his inner circle just to make room for Berninger. The Bon Iver frontman whose appearance on “Folklore” came as a bit of a shock to some of his fan base actually makes several appearances on this album, and the one that gets him elevated to featured status again, as a duet, the closing “Evermore,” is different from “Exile” in two key ways. Vernon gets to sing in his high register… and he gets the girl. As it turned out, the year 2020 did not involve any such waiting for Swift fans; it’s an embarrassment of stunning albums-ending-in-“ore” that she’s mined out of a locked-down muse.

[rissynicole]

6, 13, 14, 18 and 19.

6) What topic would you love to explore in your writing?

I really want to explore themes that are, for lack of a better word, more “adult.” Now, when I say that, I mean “adult” in the sense that I want to write content that explores the search for identity that so many people in their twenties face--the feelings of independence, loneliness, frustration, and everything else good and bad that make up those formative years. Those feelings embody a lot of what I am personally going through as someone that age, and I imagine it would feel cathartic to put them down on paper. 

13) What feedback did you receive for your writing that stuck with you?

I’ve received a couple reviews from people who told me my writing made them want to write, too. I also had someone tell me my writing helped them out of a really hard time in their life. Let me tell you, those are really powerful reviews to receive, and I legitimately tear up when I go back and reread them. 

14) What is something that you feel weird/uncomfortable writing about?

Well, this is unoriginal, especially for people who know me personally, but any kind of smut would be incredibly uncomfortable for me to write. Maybe it’s not even that I would feel uncomfortable; I would just feel out of my element. I don’t really have any interest in reading it, and I feel like writing it would make it all too obvious that my heart isn’t in it. I’m all for sweet, cutesy, lovey stuff, but the purely physical stuff isn’t my cup of tea. 

18) Show us a piece of dialogue you really like.

I really have a soft sport for some of the very first lines of dialogue I wrote for Parade, especially between Zim and GIR. I’m proud of how I portrayed their relationship, and I feel like I made it as true to canon as I could. 

"Where is it? Where is it? I can't leave this stinking planet without my, my...ugh!" Zim muttered angrily, pacing the floors and searching through various nooks and crannies.

GIR wandered in with a plate of French toast. "What you lookin' for?"

"My wig!" Zim spat, growing ever more frantic as he searched.

"It's on your head!" GIR squawked, accidentally spilling some syrup from his plate as he leaned forward, pointing directly at Zim's stunned face.

Zim swiftly felt his head, tearing off the black wig and revealing his two antennae, which sprang upwards as if spring-loaded. They slowly flattened back against his skull again as he sighed in relief. He straightened, composing himself once more.

"GIR, it's very important that we arrive to the convention well prepared. That means giving our insubordinates a lesson in what it truly means to be an invader." He shook the wig in GIR's face as he spoke. "We must demonstrate just how we have managed to seamlessly blend in with the humans."

19) Show us the line you want readers to remember from your story.

Nostalgia always has a special way of leaving lingering bliss in even the most mundane of memories.

Yeah, not the best line in the universe, but I feel like the core meaning is true. I’ll think about a time 15-year-old me stayed up late working on a project, and for some reason, it feels magical to 24-year-old me. Why? Maybe because the house was so silent and still while I worked. Maybe because I remember listening to the new Lorde album for the first time, and I’d learn to associate those songs with my early high school years. I don’t know. All I know is that this memory feels special and sacred even though I wasn’t doing anything particularly special. Nostalgia is a weird thing.

[thevioletjones]

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums, we talk about something a little more recent, but still old enough to be a classic. Can you believe that John Maus’s We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves, is turning ten years old already? Yes, 2011 was that long ago...and so were my high school years. Come check out this lo-fi synthwave masterpiece! Transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! So far in this series, we’ve looked at a lot of older albums, and that’s by design. While I listen to, and love, plenty of more recent music and younger artists, I’ve decided to focus Great Albums on works that are at least ten years old. That’s partly because I think that having some distance from when albums were released lets us situate them in fuller context, and take their legacy into consideration. It’s also partly because so much of the music criticism that’s out there is focused, somewhat myopically, on only the newest and hottest releases, when there’s so much amazing music to be discovered outside of that purview.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get on to discussing today’s album: John Maus’s We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves, which was released in 2011, one decade prior to this video. It’s an album that was very significant to me as a teenager, when it was new, and one that I think will go on to be seen as one of the most important electronic albums of this decade.

Before releasing his arguable magnum opus, John Maus had two LPs under his belt, Songs and Love Is Real. They earned him some cult followers, but also attracted substantial derision and disdain. While many elements of Maus’s signature sound are present, such as lo-fi production, atmospheric washes of synth, and lyrics that straddle the line between pithy and biting, I’d characterize these releases as being very...rough around the edges.

Music: “Too Much Money”

“Too Much Money,” off of Love Is Real, is tantalizingly close to a pop song, but its truly shocking bridge seems almost deliberately crafted to shatter our ability to enjoy it as such. Maus had initially set out to be an experimental, outsider musician, but he soon became more interested in the tradition of pop, particularly after meeting his longtime friend and artistic collaborator, Ariel Pink. It was in that pop spirit that Maus created We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves, and the resultant increase in accessibility is what made his third album so different--and so much more successful. There’s a certain charm that only comes from an outsider attempting to do pop, a fusion of intuitive mass appeal, and an intuitive, unschooled process of creation. This album has that in abundance.

Music: “Hey Moon”

While “Hey Moon” is one of Maus’s best-known tracks, it’s actually a cover, and was originally penned by singer-songwriter Molly Nilsson. It’s a very simple, and very pop, composition, and it’s easy to see how it embodies the sort of straightforward songwriting Maus had in the back of his mind while creating the album. But it fundamentally lacks the signature oddness of Maus, and I think that leaves it as the least interesting track here. With everything else going on, “Hey Moon” feels all the more plain and banal in comparison.

Music: “...And the Rain”

Listening to “...And the Rain,” it’s easy to hear how strongly Maus was also influenced by Classical and Medieval composers. Besides those organ-like synth textures, Maus is also inspired by the Medieval modes, and pre-tonal ideas about melody. Whenever contemporary music uses slightly older synthesiser technology, and/or that lo-fi production, many people become preoccupied with using ideas of 80s nostalgia and retro chic to understand it. I think this album has less to do with “old school cool” and more to do with the spectre of the past as something faded and ineffable, accessible only through the dim consolations of memory. Consider “Quantum Leap,” which presents us with a hazy dream of time travel, contrasted with the “dead zone” of the present.

Music: “Quantum Leap”

In “Quantum Leap”’s more strident moments, I like to think that a whiff of the in-your-face abrasiveness of “Too Much Money” remains. But rather than scornful and vitriolic, it comes across as the overwhelming splendour of divine mystery, thanks to its appropriation of Medieval church music. There are many antecedents of what Maus is doing with it, from the tradition of goth to the work of other electronic musicians like John Foxx, but what Maus really excels at is weaving together the sacred and the profane, and getting us to forget which is supposed to be which. For a more splendid example of that, look no further than “Matter of Fact”:

Music: “Matter of Fact”

Yes, you heard that correctly--this song’s only lyrics are, “pussy is not a matter of fact.” I’m tempted to compare this laconic number to some of Maus’s earlier pieces that seem to satirize easily spouted slogans of social change, such as “Rights For Gays.” The core assertion here could be interpreted as a rebuttal of essentialism with regards to gender and sex, or perhaps of toxic masculinity, and the idea of a man feeling entitled to a woman’s body and sexuality. But its ambiguity, and possible meaninglessness, are, I think, part of what makes it so effective. Still, as far as transgressive lyricism goes, the use of the term “pussy” here pales in comparison to the preceding track, “Cop Killer.”  

Music: “Cop Killer”

Maus has described himself as extremely left-wing, but he’s also consistently maintained that his music isn’t meant to be interpreted through a strictly political lens. But however much Maus insists that “Cop Killer” is “really” about metaphorical cops, its seemingly blatant call for violence feels obscene. Ten years ago, “Cop Killer” was shock art, and an expression of the unsayable. But in the past year, more and more people have opened up to criticism of police brutality, and police as an institution. “Cop Killer” has been re-evaluated and re-contextualized, and interest in the track has surged. It’s had a degree of vindication that most provocative and challenging art will never see, no matter how powerful.

Given Maus’s frequent emphasis on ideas of criminality, justice, and the punitive arm of the government, I’m tempted to interpret the lighthouse featured on the cover of We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves as a reference to the “panopticon” prisons designed by the Enlightenment thinker Jeremy Bentham. Bentham proposed prisons, and other state buildings, in which a single observation tower stood watch over people to be controlled. Prisoners cannot tell when, and if, they are being observed, and thus are forced to live as though they are under constant surveillance, and internalize the structures of social control. The panopticon has often been used as a symbol of how structures of discipline and punishment affect the psyche of those who live within them, most famously by the 20th Century philosopher Michel Foucault.

But this is, of course, me using political theory to try and pin Maus down! We can also set this aside and appreciate the cover design for its aesthetic ambiance. Its fog and tumultuous sea evoke the wild or unrefined qualities of the music, but the bright and piercing light of the lighthouse suggest a firm and directed focus, not unlike Maus’s stated goal of creating bona fide pop.

The album’s ponderous title doesn’t actually appear on the associated artwork. This isn’t so uncommon nowadays, but when physical media was more central to music consumption, it was a self-sabotaging move that few but New Order ever got away with. Maus was one of the first artists I became aware of who chose to omit text from album art, and it struck me as a very bold and forward-thinking adaptation to an increasingly digital world. Maus nicked the title “We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves” from the work of the philosopher Alain Badou, under whom he studied at university. Like that piercing ray of light, it seems to suggest a pruning away of impurities, and a recalibration or refocusing of one’s energies. It applies equally well to the idea of becoming sanctified or purified in the presence of the holy, or, more prosaically, to Maus’s newly pop-oriented artistic direction.

After the success of We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves, Maus’s follow-up was, essentially, the 2012 compilation, A Collection of Rarities and Previously Unreleased Material, which featured assorted tracks he had written throughout the preceding decade. Over the next few years, Maus chose to isolate himself from the public eye, claiming to not see himself continuing a career in music, and instead pursuing a Ph.D. in political science. He eventually returned, however, and released a fourth LP in 2017, entitled Screen Memories. Screen Memories would continue the focus on hooky and accessible melodies, while also increasing the use of guitar and bass to bring Maus’s sound a bit closer to rock.

Music: “Touchdown”

While Maus hasn’t put down any new material since Screen Memories, he has made himself substantially more notorious quite recently, by having been present at the attempted coup at the United States Capitol Building in January of 2021. Given Maus’s aforementioned radical leftism, and his cryptic, but seemingly anti-fascist oriented tweets afterward, it seems unlikely that Maus actually supported the insurrection, but the incident continues to cast a shadow over his reputation, at least for the time being. Whether Maus is ever truly rehabilitated or not, and wherever his true intentions and sympathies lay, his music has certainly left an indelible mark. We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves was a watershed moment for this idea of lo-fi, electronic pop, with a gothic and mysterious aura to it, and I don’t think this sound would be so commonplace in today’s musical landscape without what John Maus had accomplished, ten years ago.

My favourite track on We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves is “Head For the Country.” Its stirring and anthemic refrain is one of the most emotionally powerful moments on the album, particularly when juxtaposed with its lyrical themes of feeling confined by society’s rules, and its return to the idea of criminality or deviance. It's probably too intense and overbearing to ever pass for an ordinary pop hit...but who’s keeping score? That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Head For the Country”

[thetsxshibiscusanon]

Thomceit Hamilton AU Cast

Alrighty, here it is- the post about my Thomceit Hamilton AU that I took like three days to write, hoo boy-

Okay so, this is just the cast of the AU and also just going into some ship ramblings because if I got into the whole thing now, we’d be here for days- so let’s get on with it!

----

The Sanders Sides Characters Roles

~Just to clarify, I’m doing this TS Universe by TS Universe, because there’s a LOT of characters in both fandoms, so the cast are gonna be updated with each reblog~

Alexander Hamilton: Janus 

Why? Well, the colour theme’s for the album match Janus’ general colour aesthetic, Janus is all about taking that chance no matter what and Alex is all about not throwing away his shot, both have got that lawyer association aaaaaaaand I’m just kidding, I wanted to make a Thomceit Helpless animatic in the August of 2019- I never had any plans for this thing, it just happened. 

But yeah- dramatic snake boy lawyer meets dramatic Founding Father lawyer-

----

The Schuyler Sisters:

Angelica: Roman

Roman just radiates fabulous, feminist, older sibling vibes- just imagine him in Angelica’s dress but a bit more red and you’ve got it down! 

Satisfied also radiates Roman vibes- the pink-red colour scheme, the sacrifice, the longing and pining- it all works so well for him! I can also imagine him in Congratulations- especially with the lines ‘He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response!’, ‘...Sacrifice?’ and ‘Eliza~ is the BEST thing in our lives!’ especially since I’m making Thomas Eliza here, because, in some cases, it really parallels what actually happened in the series:

Roman sacrificed the thing he most wanted (Janus/the callback) for Thomas (Eliza/his core) because he wanted what was best for him and what was right for him- and in both cases, he was wrong! My boy either doesn’t get to chase his dreams and feels miserable about it, or he gets cheated on and feels miserable about it- there’s no winning here! (Can you tell that I felt no remorse whilst writing this? /hj)

Also, I thought the line 'He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response!’ didn’t really apply to Janus when I initially made this, but HOO BOY was I wrong-

Eliza: Thomas

Can you tell that Thomceit is my favourite ship? No? You can’t? Well I’m just about to take off the blindfold you’re wearing and talk about much of an amazing husband Thomas would be-

First though, I have to say, Thomas gives off such Eliza vibes on his own anyways- cinnamon bun that needs to be protected and has gone through a lot? Uh, yes! 

Thomas would absolutely be the type to fall head over heels for a cute guy he saw across the room (I mean we all saw FWSA, right?). He'd see Janus and be all 'Wait, frick, handsome boy- what do I do- ROMAN-' and I love that so much.

Ironically though, Hamilton was the one who really fell hard, historically at least, so the fact that in this AU Thomas falls like Eliza did but in the 'canon' Janus and Hamilton are both the actual simps is hilarious to me-

He would totally be the supportive partner he was always meant to be- assuring Janus everything will turn out fine and being sweet and caring like he always is.

On the flip side. Thomas is probably one of the only characters who would actually bite back when cheated on too. Patton is a great option for Eliza, but because Patton is associated the most with nostalgia as a character, I don't think he'd be burning any letters any time soon, he'd hold on to those memories- but Thomas would probably burn the letters as soon as he got the chance, in order to try and forget everything- to burn all the memories. Also, I just wanna see Thomas raging at Janus in First Burn- can you imagine how badass he would be? The passion and fury radiating from him in that song would be just *chef's kiss* incredible!

And here's the strongest argument I have: Eliza is the person who tells the story, of Hamilton, of the soldiers, of Washington- and who is responsible for telling us what goes on in the TS Universe?

Thomas.

I rest my case! (There wasn't one to begin with but shhhh)

(Also, Hamilton and Eliza had 8 kids, and we all know Thomas is the tired mother of 6 children-)

And Peggy (hah): Remus

The main reason for this is, as I'm sure you can guess, because I made Roman Angelica. I mean, how could I not make Remus Peggy? I do have some legitimate reasons though.

Peggy has always been given the chaotic younger sister energy in the fandom, basically the Gen Z child- and Remus embodies Gen Z's chaos perfectly, it's honestly kind of scary. Remus would absolutely be the sibling who's just there to vibe and cause chaos, but would totally be there to help if you wanted it.

The problem here, is that Peggy is constantly asking about the girls' father in Schuyler Sisters, and worrying about consequences- which is not a Remus thing at ALL, but I can imagine Remus asking those questions like '👀 So what's the dealio?' And then being delighted at the responses that come from the others like 'YEAH- Let's break the rules!'

Peggy was also very good friends with Hamilton historically, and we all know Janus and Remus are best friends (that's not canon, but it is now)!

So- Peggy and Remus! Let's go!

----

The Hamilsquad (Sides! Edition):

Aaron Burr: Logan

Logan is the most logical (hah) character to play Burr in my opinion:

Burr kills Hamilton, and Logan is probably the only Side who could actually defeat Janus in some way (Logic overcrowds the lies and reasons its way out of them), and if having a presence and some control got Janus to sink down, then what would happen to Janus if he Logan had full control?

Logan, like Burr, wants to be in the Room Where it Happened- he wants to be listened to- that's self-explanatory, but what gets interesting to me is the waiting ideology both of them have.

We all know Burr waits for opportunities- he had a whole song on it! But what people tend to forget is that Logan has also waited for chances and holds back opinions- the best example would be in LNTAO, where he admits to Thomas that he's been holding back his opinions for far too long and that he doesn't think people take Thomas seriously enough.

That 'wait for the right moment attitude' is instilled in both of them- and while Janus also partially has that attitude, he's also got a 'Leap for the chance and take it' attitude- which is why I can imagine him telling Logan 'You get love for it, you get hate for it- you get nothing if you wait for it' and 'What do you want Burr?'

He'd be the one to ask 'When are you finally going to take a stand and say "I want to be heard?" When are you going to take the chance?'

John Laurens: Virgil

Virgil's role as Laurens is mainly because of symbolism- the idea that you had these two great friends who were in it together, and one of them left (either this life or the Others) and that tore them apart in one way or the other.

Also, Laurens and Hamilton were hiding something- those letters said A LOT, and Jan and Virge act like two ex-boyfriends, like what is this-

----

Theodosia Sr.: Patton

This may just be my Logicality heart screaming, but I think this makes sense- Theodosia always gave off a sweet, soft motherly energy even though we never see her on screen or hear her voice. From what he heard about her, she seemed to be the loving mother character (Eliza was more the loving wife and widow figure, but she did have motherly traits for sure), and we all know Patton would rock the loving mother figure role- there isn't really much more to it.

----

I think that's all I can really say on the Sides characters' roles! There's gonna be more to this but this is a lot as it is, and I wanted to get this done ASAP.

So ye! I hope you enjoyed reading this and are looking forward about what's to come!