#But Death Note the Musical is occupying my mind 24/7

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Crying do any of yall know where to find good quality videos of the 2022 Korean Death Note the Musical? Especially They're Only Human and Mortals and Fools. I'm losing my mind here AAAAA I NEED TO SEE 2022 KOREAN REM AND RYUK SO BADLY but honestly at this point any quality video of any of the Korean musicals of any song or part is awesome BECAUSE I CANT FIND ANY VIDEOS OF IT PLS JUST GIVE ME ANYTHING

[lochtayboatsong]

The Jesus Christ Superstar essay absolutely no one asked for.

Last weekend, I watched the pro-shot of the 2012 arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar starring Ben Forster, Tim Minchin, and Melanie C, because it was Easter and it was up on YT for the weekend.  I never managed to do my annual listen-through of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass this year, as is my usual Easter tradition, so I figured “Why not watch/listen to this instead?”  It was my first time seeing and hearing JCS in full, and Y’ALL, it has been living rent-free in my brain ever since.  I have a mighty need to get my thoughts out, so here they are, in chronological order by song.  

1) Prologue: I love the way JCS 2012 makes use of the arena video screen.  The production design and concept clearly took a lot of inspiration from the “Occupy ______” movement, which makes it feel a bit dated now.  But every single production of JCS is a product of its time period, so this is a feature and not a bug.  

2) Heaven On Their Minds: This is a straight-up rock song.  It wouldn’t be out of place on any rock and roll album released between 1970 and 2021, and it boggles my mind that Webber and Rice were both in their early twenties when they wrote it.  Also, the lyric “You’ve begun to matter more than the things you say” hits hard no matter the year.

3) What’s the Buzz: A+ use of the arena screens again, this time bringing in social media to set the tone.  Also, this song establishes right from the outset that Jesus is burnt out and T I R E D by this point in the story.  Seriously, can we just let this man have a nap?

4) Strange Thing Mystifying: Judas publicly calls out Mary and Jesus claps back.  Folx, get you a partner who will defend your honor the way Jesus defends MM in this scene.  Also Jesus loses his shoes and is mostly barefoot for the remainder of the show.

5) Everything’s Alright: Okay, this is one of the songs I have A LOT to say about.  First, it’s important to know that I was a church musician throughout all of my adolescence and into my early adulthood.  The pianist at the services I usually played at was a top-notch jazz pianist, and also my piano teacher for about six years while I as in high school and undergrad.  (Incidentally, I had a HUGE crush on his son, who was/is a jazz saxophonist and clarinetist and also played in the church band, but that’s a story for another day.)  One of the hymns we played a few times a year was called “Sing of the Lord’s Goodness,” which is notable for being in 5/4 time.  Whenever this hymn was on the schedule, it was usually the recessional, or the last song played as the clergy processed out and the congregation got ready to leave, so we were able to have some fun with it.  After a couple verses the piano player and his son would usually morph it into “Take Five,” a famous jazz standard by Dave Brubeck which is also in 5/4 time.  Anyway, the first time I listened to this song in full, it got to Judas’s line “People who are hungry, people who are starving,” and I sat bolt upright and went “HOLY SHIT THIS IS ‘SING OF THE LORD’S GOODNESS/TAKE FIVE.’”  And I was ricocheted back in time to being fourteen and trying to keep up with this father/son duo in a cavernous Catholic church while simultaneously making heart-eyes at the son.  Final note: This is the only song in the musical to feature all three leads (Jesus, Judas, and Mary Magdalene) and is mostly Jesus and MM being soft with each other in between bouts of Jesus and Judas snarling at one another.

6) This Jesus Must Die: I LOVE that all the villains in this production are in tailored suits.  LOVE IT.  Also, Caiaphas and Annas are a comedy duo akin to “the thin guy and the fat guy,” except in this case it’s “the low basso profundo and the high tenor.”  Excellent use of the arena video screen again, this time as CCTV.

7) Hosanna: My background as a church musician strikes back again.  It honestly took me two or three listens to catch it, but then I had another moment of sitting bolt upright and going “HOLY SHIT THIS IS A PSALM.”  Psalms sung in church usually take the form of call-and-response, with a cantor singing the verses and the congregation joining in for the chorus.  If I close my eyes during this song, I have no trouble imagining Jesus as a church cantor singing the verses and then bringing the congregation in for the “Ho-sanna, Hey-sanna” chorus. 

8) Simon Zealotes: This is part “Gloria In Excelsis” and part over-the-top Gospel song.  Honestly it’s not my favorite, but it marks an important mood change in the show.  The end of “Hosanna” is probably Jesus at his happiest in the entire show, and then Simon comes in and sours the mood by trying to tip the triumphant moment into a violent one.  Jesus is not truly happy again from this moment on.

9) Poor Jerusalem: Also not my fave.  It kinda reads like Webber and Rice realized that Jesus didn’t have a solo aria in Act I, so they came up with this.  But it has the distinction of containing the lyric, “To conquer death you only have to die,” which is the biggest overarching theme of the story.

10) Pilate’s Dream: Pontius Pilate might be the most underrated role in this entire show, and I love that this production has him singing this song while being dressed in judge’s robes.  

11) The Temple: The first half of this is one of the campiest numbers in Act I, at least in this production, and it’s awesome.  The second half is one of the saddest, as Jesus tries to heal the sick but finds there are too many of them.  Also the whole scene is almost entirely in 7/8 time, which I think is just cool.

12) I Don’t Know How To Love Him: Mary Magdalene’s big aria, and one of the songs I knew prior to seeing the full-length show.  This production has MM taking off her heavy lipstick and eye makeup onstage, mid-song, which is kind of cool.  Melanie C says in a BTS interview that MM’s makeup is her armor, so this is a Big Symbolic Moment.

13) Damned For All Time: The scene transition into this song is played entirely in pantomime, and I love it.  The solo guitarist gets to be onstage for a bit, A+ use of the video screen again to show Judas on CCTV, etc.  Love it.  And then this song is Judas frantically rationalizing what he’s doing, and what he’s about to do, with Caiphas and Annas just reacting with raised eyebrows and knowing looks.

14) Blood Money: This is where the tone of the show really takes a turn for the dark.  I think this might be one of Tim Minchin’s finest moments as Judas, because his facial expressions and microexpressions throughout this scene speak absolute volumes.  And the offstage chorus quietly singing “Well done Judas” as he picks up the money is a positively chilling way to end Act I.

15) The Last Supper: Act II begins with major “Drink With Me” vibes.  (Except JCS came WAY before Les Miz, so it’s probably more accurate to say that “Drink With Me” has major “The Last Supper” vibes.)  Jesus and Judas have their knock-down, drag-out fight, and it’s honestly heartbreaking, thanks again to Tim Minchin’s facial expressions.  A well-done production of JCS will really convey that Jesus and Judas were once closer than brothers, even though their relationship is at breaking point when Act I begins.

16) Gethsemane: This is Jesus’s major showpiece and one of my faves.  Jesus knows he has less than 24 hours to live, he knows he’s going to suffer, and worst of all, he doesn’t know whether it’s going to be worth it.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster to watch and to perform, and it goes on for ages: something like 6 or 7 minutes.  Fun fact: the famous G5 is not written in the score.  Ian Gillan, who played Jesus on the original concept album, just sang it that way, so most subsequent Jesuses have also done it that way.  Lindsay Ellis has a great supercut of this on YT.  John Legend notably sang the line as written during the 2018 concert.  

17) The Arrest: Judas’s Betrayer’s Kiss is played differently across different productions.  The 2012 version is pretty tame - I’ve seen clips and gifs of other productions, including the 2000 direct-to-video version, where they kiss fully on the mouth and have to be dragged apart by the guards and it is THE MOST TENDER THING.  Then the 7/8 riff from “The Temple” comes back and the 2012 version lets the video screen do its thing again as Jesus is swarmed by reporters.

18) Peter’s Denial: Not much to say about this one, as it’s basically a scene transition.  But it’s a significant moment in the Passion story, so I’m glad they included it.

19) Pilate and Christ: The 2012 production continues with the theme of Caiaphas, Annas, and Pilate all being bougie af, since Pilate intentionally looks like he just came from tennis practice during this scene.  Also he does pilates...hehehe.

20) King Herod’s Song: Tim Minchin says in a BTS interview that JCS works best when Jesus and Judas are played seriously and the rest of the production is allowed to be completely camp and wild and bizarre all around them, and he is bloody well CORRECT about that.  Case in point: King Herod.  There is not a single production of JCS that I know of where Herod is played “straight.”  He’s been played by everyone from Alice Cooper to Jack Black, and everyone puts a different zany spin on him.  In JCS 2012 he’s a chat show host in a red crushed velvet suit, who is clearly having the time of his LIFE. 

21) Could We Start Again Please: This is another of my faves.  Just a quiet moment where MM, Peter, and the disciples try to grapple with the fact that Jesus is arrested and things are going very, very badly.  This is also my favorite Melanie C moment of the 2012 show.  Her grief is very real, and the little moment she has with Peter at the end is very real.

22) Death of Judas: This is basically Tim Minchin screaming for about five minutes, and incredibly harrowing to watch on first viewing.  

23) Trial Before Pilate: Possibly my single favorite scene in the entire 2012 production.  This is another harrowing watch, but there’s so much to take in.  The “set” that the entire show takes place on is essentially just a massive staircase, and the people with power are almost always positioned above the people without power.  In this scene, the crowd shouting “Crucify Him!” is positioned above Pilate, which is a very telling clue to Pilate’s psychology during this scene.  Jesus is at the very bottom of the stairs, of course.  Excellent use of the video screen once again during the 39 Lashes, to show the lash marks building and building until the entire screen is a wash of red.  Pilate’s counting also gets more and more frantic, especially starting around “20.”  And all the while the guitar riff from “Heaven On Their Minds” is playing.  Jesus’s line “Everything is fixed and you can’t change it” is played quite differently in different productions - here it’s defiant, but elsewhere (in JCS 2000 for example) it’s almost tender, like Jesus is absolving Pilate for his part in the trial.  But it always ends the same - with Pilate almost screaming as he passes the sentence and “washes his hands” of the whole sorry business. 

24) Superstar: The most over-the-top number in the show.  Judas, who died two scenes ago, comes back to sing this.  There are soul singers.  There are girls in skimpy angel costumes.  The parkour guys from the prologue are back.  Judas pulls a tambourine out of hammerspace midway through the song.  And Jesus is silently screaming and crying as he gets hoisted onto a lighting beam while all this is going on.

25) The Crucifixion: More of a spoken-word piece than a song, it’s Jesus’s final words on the cross over eerie piano music, and another harrowing watch.

26) John 19:41: An instrumental piece in which Jesus is taken from the cross and carried, at last, to the top of the stairs, before being lowered out of sight as the video screen turns into a memorial wall and everything fades to black.

So.  I know I’m anywhere from three to fifty-one years late to this particular party, but I am on the JCS bandwagon now and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.  :)

[disaster-bay-leaf]

Ok so these were the cutest~ (ㆁωㆁ)

4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 19, 22, 23, 28, 33, 34, 46, 47, 52, 59, 60, 63, 66, 83, 87, 88, 93, 99

I kno I listed like....all of them lmao but feel free to answer whichever you want and ofc you can ask me in return Baybe ( ◜‿◝ )♡

uHUHUHUHU much content for me to answer, im happy bebe 💜💜💜✨

4 - how do you take your coffee/tea?

hm coffee either Very Black No Sugar (for the sleep deprived me) or iced latte three sugars and theres no in between

and as for tea its All Black Teas That Exist, cinnamon-flavoured especially (but basically all teas that come to mind when u think “autumn”), and rooibos!!! okay basically the only oke i dont like is any type of green tea (which is sad because they look cool but my tastebuds said ✨no✨)

6 - do you keep plants?

honestly id l o v e too because i love plants but,,, im kinda horrible at taking care of them though still way better than the majority of my family (research helps) so the only plant i own is kinda a small-palm-tree-looking thing in a bigass glass jar that i saved from my mother’s plant-destructing hands and its mostly doing well (the ends of its leaves are starting to be yellow tho and im worried:((( )

7 - do you name your plants?

yes!!! though the current one was named by my sister and its called “pickett” after fantastic beasts shsjjsj

9 - do you like singing/humming to yourself?

oh god oh dude you have n o idea

i have absolutely n o singing voice but its something i do constantly to give my brain the right amount of stimuli so basically i listen to music 24/7 and hum to myself 99% of that time

12 - whats your favourite planet?

oh i actually didnt think about this for so long but either pluto (hes a planet screw nasa) or saturn (RINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) or venus (girls,,,and libra,,,)

19 - do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw in it?

okay im gonna be completely honest with yall and say that my every single try at keeping a journal failed spectacularly and i lost motivation after like a few months so my only journals rn are my fancy fake-leather-bound calendar to note tests and assessments into, a kinda roughed up notebook that i uses for noting down poems or scribbling or passing notes in class, and a kinda fancy bullet journal notebook that i used as a book of shadows for a while but since my fountain pen died i didnt touch it

22 - are you a morning person?

n o

i am so not a morning person but i wish i could be because honestly dawns are beautiful

but as it is rn im either sleep deprived all the time and loathe every second of being in an awake state or (if i have a few days of schoolbreak) my biological clock moves forward a few hours and i sleep 2am-10am

23 - whats your favourite thing to do on lazy days with zero obligations?

except for the fact that i dont remember the last time it happened, i would probably spend it drawing outside, watching anime with my sister and riding a bike around the forest

28 - sunrise or sunset?

i love sunrises because its so peaceful and everyone is asleep but also i subconsciously immediately correlate them with waiting for a train to take me to school (because thats basically the only time i see them) so its a bittersweet love especially with my fucked up biological clock

but sunsets are really really pretty too and i see them more often so i cant choose

33 - whats your fave pastry?

and isnt that a millior-dollar question dhsjjsjsj

either cinnamon rolls (i absolutely adore them) or that one specific type of cupcake-shaped-thing made out of shortcrust/bread/whatever its called and filled with vanilla pudding

34 - tell us about a stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

awwww this is cute

okay so basically my two favourite stuffed animals (i still have them, they sit in my wardrobe) were two teddy bears (like maybe 20cm high each of them) and one was pure brown and the other was silver-brown and they had stereotypical polish male names “Waldek” (read. Valdek) and Stefan (i think tho im not sure if i remember correctly, my memory is a feeble thing sometimes

46 - tell us the worst pun you can think of

what dog would never bite you? a hot dog *badumtss*

47 - what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

huh a year ago id say pineapple pizza but i guess i dont hate pineapples that much anymore (tho putting them on pizza is still an abomination) but i think that if id ever want to get rid of anything it would be parsley, i hate that freakin herb (does it count as food tho)

52 - what are your favourite memes of the year so far?

the ever given for sure shsjshjsjsjsjjsj

but bullying tramp stamps is gold and pure tumblr energy too

as for fandom memes: im in love with all keeping-up-with-the-todorokis variations and the fact that the entire bsd fandom looked at fukuchi and said “biTCH” and thats one of the only things we’re unanimous about

59 - whats your favourite myth?

i always liked the kora/persephone myth (though demeter is an overbearing parent to the nth power), loki and thor crossdressing at a party to get mjolnir back, atalanta because shes a queen and id politely ask her to kick my ass, and cassandra because she deserved better, and theres a l o t more because alas i was a mythology nerd but this post is long enough for me not to make this section 20 times longer sjjsjsjsjsjks

but there are a lot of slavic myths that are very cool too, though we dont know that much about them as about the greeks for example

60 - do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

o o o o h yeah i do like poetry because to create such a beautifully sounding thing with only words someone has to be a genius

some of my favs are: some works of nakahara chuuya (thank u bsd for introducing me to this man’s beautiful imagery in his works i swear to god the descriptions do it for me) (also his poem about having hangovers is a mood like i feel you buddy), the raven by ea poe (i know everyone likes it but hOLY DAMN THE INTER/INTRAVERSE RHYMES ARE LIKE,,, BREATHTAKING) (and aso im a slut for gothic horror), and many more but also That One Poem From Welcome To Nightvale about reaching the island in the west,,, only perfect vibes from it

63 - are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organised or kinda leave them be?

okay heres the thing. for anyone else both my playlist library and my bookshelf would be considered pure chaos of a mad man b u t they actually have a highly focused system which means that i sort them based on their vibes, lovability and (in case of books) their age and whether or not theyre a part of a series so i would say my bookshelf is rather organised (when a quarter of it isnt occupying my desk that is) and my music is more organised than not but sometimes it gets out of control and i have to sort it entirely again

66 - what would your ideal flower crown look like?

either entirely constructed of simple white daisies, entirely constructed of only white roses, or something that probably would win a “how many different coloured flowers can one fit in a flower crown” competition

or something purple (maybe not belladonna)

83 - whats some of your favourite album art?

god i dont know if it counts but hozier’s wasteland baby is probably one of my absolute favourites and no one shall beat that

“thrifted youth” (dalynn) and “standard deviation” (danny schmidt) have very aesthetic covers too

also the iconic p!atd too weird to live, too rare to die! album cover,,, its just iconic what can i say

and last but not least matt meason’s pink-and-black album covers (though bank on the funeral is really pretty too but like,,, “who killed matt meason” d o e s it for me and so does the 2017 tribulation single)

87 - what are some movies that you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

this is such a hard question because im not a really cinematography-oriented gal but i suppose that (at the risk of not going deep enough into the cinema world):

- the princess bride

- inception

- night at the museum

- SPIRITED AWAY

- forrest gump

- truman show

- E.T. (i cried okay)

- the lord of the rings (because damn me if this isnt one impressive adaptation)

- parasite

and one more personal recommendation: “ready or not” with samara weaving because goddamn i dont usually watch this genre but holy s h i t is it good

93 - whats the hairstyle you wear the most?

honestly just plain hair down (because having curly hair is a menace), split in the middle when i have longer hair and split on one side when its short

also low ponytails or half-up-half-down when im exercising, or double french braids when my hair doesnt cooperate enough to look presentable in any other form

99 - list some songs that resonate with your soul whenever you hear them

this is difficult because my music taste is a goddamn rollercoaster on a good day, but heres some:

- me and the sky from “come from away” musical (this is sort of a test song for my mental stability, if i cry i aint stable)

- dancing after death by matt meason (okay most songs by matt meason except for like,,, hallucinogenics maybe)

- tears and rain by james blunt

- i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie

- almost home by mxmtoon

- anything by hozier really but shrike especially

- payphone, the cover by alex g (i cried to this song so many times)

- burning pile by mother mother (can i roast all my problems please)

- long way from home and cleopatra by the lumineers

- autoclave by the mountain goats

oooh that was c o o o o o o o l as fuck thank you sm so much bebe (and sorry for the long post @everyone else)

[insomnia-productions]

Oh My God, They Were Roommates

A Mat/Rand Quarantine Drabble :D

Read on AO3

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Day One

Mat dangles out of the window, eyes closed, hoping to catch one last whiff of alcohol—any alcohol, at this point—before the bar across the street closes forever.

“It’s only for the next month or two,” Rand chides him, pulling him back in before he tips right out of the window.

It would have been more merciful to let him fall the six storeys. A month without the bar is more than a death sentence. It’s a cruel and inhumane punishment, and Mat whines his protest loudly as he sinks to the floor beneath the window in a puddle of despair. Rand frowns worriedly at him and ruffles his hair gently—which does make him feel slightly better, though he’ll deny it in court.

Over on the couch, Perrin only rolls his eyes. “Lockdown in a nice apartment with reliable WiFi, my Netflix account to mooch off of, and Rand’s cooking. You’ll survive.”

Rand has moved away. Mat lets out a piteous sound, partly in protest to Perrin’s oversimplification of his tragic situation, and partly to encourage further headpats. As anticipated, Perrin rolls his eyes again and turns away—though Mat catches a fond smile quirking his lips as he does so—and Rand walks back over and sits next to Mat, patting his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Mat, you’ll see.” He gives one of those warm, gentle smiles. “We’ll have so much free time! We can learn new hobbies, I can keep practicing the flute, maybe we’ll finally get you to cook more than insta-ramen, we can stay up late and watch old movies and you can make fun of them, I know you like that, and…”

He keeps smiling as he talks, and, in spite of himself, Mat thinks that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be so bad.

.

Day Two

“Hey, guys,” Mat says over breakfast, with the widest grin Rand has ever seen. It’s the first time he’s smiled like that since the lockdown was announced, and Rand feels relief and warmth wash over him to see it.

“Hey, guys,” Mat repeats, “d’you know what we’re in right now?”

Perrin frowns. “An apartment?”

Mat’s grin widens impossibly. With barely contained glee: “Quarantimes.”

Perrin throws a bowl at him. Rand stifles an errant giggle, puts on a deadpan expression, and says, “I take it back. This is the worst.”

.

Day Five

Rand learns very quickly that there is a slight, slight issue in quarantining with his two best friends. It’s no big deal, really, he’s quite sure he can keep the problem contained for the next month or two without making a fool of himself, and the flame and void have always been very helpful in squashing down his emotions, so really there isn’t much of a problem at all, it’s just—he’s in love with one of them.

It’s easy being in love with Mat when they only see each other in the mornings and evenings, in the few classes they share, and on the weekends. It’s harder on holidays, when the three of them fly back to their shared hometown, spending long days roaming the streets to see what’s new, wandering through meadows and brooks and familiar, unchanging trees. But this? Sharing this tiny apartment with Mat, 24/7, with no work, no school, nothing but each other to keep themselves occupied? This is much, much worse.

Before the lockdown, when their lives kept them busy and apart, Rand could close his eyes and try to forget why he even liked Mat. The man is an obnoxious bastard, after all, and an absolute mess of a human being. He’d thought that being around him so much would only drive the point home—and, in a way, constant exposure to Mat and all his mattiness has been immensely trying, to say the least. He’s so loud, all the time, and he keeps forgetting to do the dishes, and he hogs all the WiFi with his nonstop streaming, not to mention the stupid 48-hour online gaming competition he’s gotten into with the upstairs neighbor. But…

Well, the problem with nonstop exposure to Mat’s mattiness is that it’s also given Rand a hundred and one reminders why he’d fallen for Mat in the first place. Reminders like his bright smiles, or the sound of his laughter, or his ceaseless snarky comments as he spies on the apartments across the street. Reminders like his infectious mischief, or his inability to go five minutes without referencing Vine, or the way the sun catches his face when he sits on the windowsill at dusk, one leg dangling out, a tiny act of rebellion against the virus keeping them all stuck indoors.

Rand sighs to himself as Mat’s voice floats over from within the apartment, blasting out some of the most creative trash-talk Rand has ever heard, punctuated by laughter and the muffled, tinny sound of trumpets and victory music. Mat himself zooms into the living room a moment later, still in yesterday’s pajamas, whooping and hollering and wearing the most shit-eating grin Rand has ever seen. His eyes are ringed in dark circles, but they’re bright with vindication, and as as he leaps onto the table—ignoring Perrin’s glare of protest—to scream his victory chant through the ceiling, Rand buries his face in his hands and thinks, I’m fucked.

.

Day Eight

Mat is so fucked.

So incredibly, inescapably, irreversibly fucked.

He’s fucked because he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight—’cause, seriously, Mat is a free spirit, he can’t be tied down like this!—and, worse, he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight with his best friend and the person he’s in love with—and Perrin, of course— and even worse than that he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight with the person he’s in love with and Rand won’t stop playing love songs on that damned flute!

Look, it’s one thing for Rand to play the flute. It’s one thing for him to sit on the windowsill with the midafternoon sun making his hair look like warm firelight, eyes half-lidded and smiling peacefully every time he pauses for breath. It’s one thing for him to look up at Mat as he plays, eyes bright and crinkled as if to say, look, look, I got the note right, aren’t you proud?

That’s all one thing. Something. It’s—something.

It’s another thing entirely for him to play almost exclusively love songs while doing all that. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s like he knows about Mat’s stupid crush and quarantimes have got him so bored that he’s actively trying to torture Mat just for a few snatches of daily entertainment. But that, of course, can’t be true. Right? Right?

Oh, Light, it hasn’t even been a week and Mat is already losing his mind. This lockdown had better not last more than a month. It had been so easy to love Rand before the quarantine. Mat had had an arrangement with his heart. As long as they were outside of the apartment—which was most of the time—Mat could forget all about his crush. He could go to class, go to work, go to bars and flirt with pretty girls, and never have to spare a moment to think about Rand, save for the occasional errant thought. It was only in the apartment that he would be forced to confront his—ew—emotions. And in his dreams, of course—his heart held free reign over his dreams, but, well, in a situation like this, you took what you could get and didn’t complain.

Now, though, he spends every waking minute in the apartment, with Rand—with Rand and his soft hair and his gentle smiles and his pretty eyes and warm laugh and that Light-forsaken flute. It’s maddening.

“Mat?”

Speak of the Dark One and he shall appear—wearing a soft, puzzled smile and framed with a halo of dying sunlight, as it were.

“Mat, could you come over here a sec? I can’t tell if this note sounds right.”

Mat puts on a grin, resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall, and walks over to the windowsill. “Sure, Rand. What song are you playing?”

Rand gives him a smile and an expression so innocent that it bypasses all trickery and circles right back to blood and ashes this man genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing to me. Blandly, Rand says, “Purple Rain.”

Mat is so, so fucked.

.

Day Nine

Perrin has taken to birdwatching. He finds an online guide to city birds, mixes his own birdseed from what he finds in the kitchen, and starts laying it out along the windowsill in his bedroom. Hopefully he’ll get some visitors soon. In the meantime, he listens to bird calls on YouTube and starts trying to match the sounds to the birds he hears outside the apartment.

Quarantimes aren’t so bad, he supposes.  

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Day Thirteen

Rand knows from a good twenty-odd years of experience that Mat gets bored very easily, that he can’t sit still for a minute, that he could be locked up in an empty room with naught but his own mind and still find a hundred ways to get into trouble before noon. So he isn’t surprised when Mat, two weeks into the lockdown, decides to take up juggling.

What is surprising—although, knowing Mat, it probably shouldn’t be—is that, rather than making use of the many knicknacks, bits and bobs, and half-rotting apples lying around their apartment, Mat has chosen to begin his juggling career with knives.

Butter knives. But still.

Rand sits curled in a chair, unable to tear his eyes away, like he’s watching a car crash in slow motion, or one of those Buzzfeed compilations—pictures taken moments before disaster.

Perrin catches him watching and snorts. “You might try blinking once or twice.”

“He’s going to stab himself,” Rand murmurs, half in defense. “Someone needs to protect him from himself.”

“Sure,” Perrin says, already walking back to his room, carrying—something or other. Rand can’t bring himself to look away from Mat long enough to see what. “Sure, Rand. That’s why.”

Well, Rand thinks determinedly, that is why.

Sure, the way Mat’s standing, he’s backlit by the setting sun, and, sure, the look of pure focus on his face is unfamiliar and strangely alluring, and, alright, yeah, the way his hands move so deftly to catch each knife at the last second is thrilling and impressive—but the stabbing thing is the primary reason, obviously. Obviously.

This is fine.

.

Day Fourteen

Mat graduates from butter knives to steak knives.

This time, even Perrin can’t look away.

Rand is too busy having an aneurysm to feel vindicated.

.

Day Seventeen

Perrin has four regulars to his bird feed window now: a bluejay, two sparrows, and a crow. They come at different times of day, like they’ve organized some sort of schedule. It’s the kind of thing a bird would do, Perrin thinks. They’re very smart creatures.

He reads up on bird diets, and starts to differentiate their feed. He thinks they’ll appreciate that.

.

Day Nineteen

It’s three in the morning and Mat sits stone-still on the sofa, almost vibrating with nervous energy and the sheer effort it takes not to move. He should’ve known it was a mistake to have a Lord Of The Rings marathon with Rand “I can stay up all night, Mat, of course I can, what are you talking about?” al’Thor.

Onscreen, Sméagol is making his gradual and indescribably disturbing transition into Gollum, but Mat stopped watching a good forty-five minutes ago, when, right in the middle of the Ents’ takeover of Isengard, Rand had let out a soft yawn and fallen asleep. That would have been fine, but Rand, in a moment of pure slumberous treachery, had managed to lean into Mat, curling up against his side like a red retriever puppy. Now Mat can’t move, but he can’t even enjoy the movie, either, which—look, okay, Mat really does love Rand with his entire heart, such as it were, but this is the Lord of the Rings they’re talking about, and love comes and goes, but LOTR is forever.

The movie ends three hours later, the credits rising with the sun, and Mat remains motionless through it all—he hasn’t sat still for this long in his life.

An hour or so after sunrise, Rand finally stirs, and blinks confusedly up at Mat for a moment before rocketing away, face turned to the window. In a strange tone, he says, “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Mat forces out. He can see his reflection in the black screen of the TV. He looks like a damn raccoon. Mat is no stranger to staying up into the ungodly hours, but this was—quite different. Quite different.

Rand seems to hesitate a moment, putting his hands in his pockets and taking them out again. “Did you—sleep well?”

“Yep,” Mat says, popping the ‘p’, and promptly passes out.

.

Day Twenty-One

The birds have been absent for a few days, but the last time the crow came, she left Perrin a shiny clip and a broken pendant, so Perrin is sure she, at least, will come back in her own time.

In the meanwhile, he notices that two new spiders have taken up residence in his room—one next to his desk, and the other in a corner near the window. He names the window one Varys, and the desk one Claude. He knows less about spiders than he does about birds, but he likes to imagine that they like the names.

.

Day Twenty-Three

Mat and Rand start working on a puzzle.

It’s an old, dusty thing, a gift from someone back in Emond’s Field a long time ago, something they’ve both been meaning to work on for years but never gotten around to doing. It has one thousand small pieces and the scene is ridiculously complex—some sort of magical battle between two men in the sky, a golden dragon curling around the frame. It’s frustrating at times, or most of the time, really, but it’s nice, sitting in silence together, sorting pieces, the only sounds being low Lofi music playing on Rand’s laptop and the occasional huff of annoyance or short burst of triumphant laughter as something clicks.

They work on the puzzle for a solid twenty hours, and, as the moon drifts idly between the stars, Rand lifts the final piece, hand hovering over the empty space in the puzzle, and smiles.

“Well?” Mat prompts, looking tired but sounding eager.

Rand looks at him. “It’s the last piece. We should do it together.”

Mat blinks at him a moment, before a slow grin, easy spreads across his face. “Alright.”

It’s only when Mat leans over to place his hand over Rand’s that Rand realizes he hadn’t quite thought this through—but, in the night, with only the moon and a dim lamp lighting the room, it doesn’t seem to matter.

Sharing a grin, they lower their hands together, and the final piece clicks into place.

.

Day Twenty-Eight

“Think they’ll end the lockdown soon?”

Rand shrugs.

“It’s been almost a month,” Mat continues. It’s sunset and they’re sharing the living room windowsill, watching the orange light flicker across the black windows of all the shut-down shops on the street. “And it’s getting warmer.”

Rand shrugs again. “Who knows?”

Mat grins slightly. “WHO knows.”

“Original,” Rand deadpans, but he feels himself smile anyway, turning his gaze to Mat. Quietly, consideringly, he murmurs, “Well, would another month be so bad?” Mat looks at him in askance and Rand’s smile softens. “Lockdown isn’t great, but… it’s been kind of nice. Getting to spend more time together. Right?”

Mat blinks, and slowly smiles. “Right.” They stay like that a moment, just smiling, before Mat huffs a short laugh, ducking his head. “Light, Rand.”

“What?”

“You really have no idea, do you?”

“What?” Rand frowns. “No idea about what?”

Mat laughs again, shaking his head, looking back up at Rand with the strangest expression. “Nothing.”

There’s something in his expression, or his voice, or maybe the dusk light, that gives Rand a sudden flutter of cautious hope.

“Nothing,” he repeats softly. “Nothing.” He can feel himself leaning closer, and it might just be imagination, or wishful thinking, but it seems like Mat is leaning closer, too. He gets the question out without really hearing himself speak, the distance between them growing smaller with each whispered word. “Would nothing be… something like… this?”

The next few minutes pass in a daze, but, when they finally part, Rand is pretty sure he’s going to remember the grin Mat gives him for the rest of his life.

.

Day Thirty

The lockdown is extended another month.

Mat and Rand share a smile.

Perrin shuts the door on them and goes back to feeding his birds.

.

[nookishposts]

Grace Notes 2

I spent a week as part of a team of friends and family sitting vigil for Maureen, who lay dying. A long eroding illness had occupied her last few years and she had successfully integrated into a wonderful hospice program which I believe prolonged her life through exemplary care. When we all got the call that she was suddenly and rapidly deteriorating, we answered.

A good deal of life is about just showing up. It would appear that the same is true of death. Maureen’s body had suffered greatly while her mind remained sharp and full until it began to show some cracks a week before her death. Who knows if her lucidity was affected most by pain, fear, fatigue, brain tissue deterioration, or most likely some evil cocktail of all of those things. Her pre-approval  for legal physician-assisted death came with the proviso that once she chose her date, there must exist a 10 day window of time in which she could change her mind. But when Maureen began to lose ground, the lapses in her lucidity invalidated her ability to invoke assisted suicide. It was also highly unlikely she would survive the 10 days.  Either way, it was a cruel twist in a carefully engineered self-determined plan. She had wanted to have a party with all of us and then quietly slip away into a bedroom for her final curtain. We knew she didn’t want any of us to see her suffer, to witness the messiness of a body shutting down and the very personal, mildly invasive professional care that would entail. We showed up anyway.

A handful of women went in and out of Maureen’s lovely hospice room, in shifts, to the best of our abilities. When someone you love is dying, life otherwise goes on and must be factored in to the schedule. She’d turned 69 last December and most of us are within 10 years of her age either way. We have learned our limits and are realistic about how best to cope. We all knew we would be there as much for one another as for Maureen, and through the process of bearing witness together, would come to know one another better.

Texting made things a little easier. We kept one another apprised of Maureen’s status as it changed: “She opened her eyes for a bit, she seemed to respond to the music.” We kept tabs on who was coming and who was going from the room, trying to ensure that one or more of us could be with her always. A couple of days into the process, a Saturday, the Director of the hospice came in to prepare the staff for Maureen’s departure as she had been with them 16 months and formed many heartfelt bonds. On shift or not, they each came in to say goodbye. We tried to give every one who came the courtesy of a few minutes alone with Maureen, to speak their hearts as they might, in privacy and sacredness. Saying a final goodbye is indeed sacred; even when its wordless. 

Over 7 days, we saw at various times Maureen’s twisting physical pain, watching in trust as the nurses adjusted and added medications to reduce her constant, relentless tremors. She hallucinated, not from the medications, but from some battle within herself to gain any modicum of control over the spiralling conflict between “here” and “not here”. Her emaciated face was a movie screen of emotions. We could see the terror so clearly in frantic eye tics, deeply furrowed brows and a grimacing, gasping mouth. She tried so hard to express herself, to release words. We sat in turns at her bedside, murmuring soft soothing sounds, stroking her face, holding her hand.  In the middle of one rather harrowing night, she convulsed her knees to her chest and amid the wails, we heard very clearly: “I huuuurt!” The nurses were right there, doing everything they knew how to do, but it took 2 hours before Maureen retreated into an exhausted sleep.  At 8 am the next morning, she opened her eyes and responded to the nurse’s cheerful good morning with a smile and: “Good Morning Shannon” in answer. We were stunned, but cheered her for the gift of that moment, and hoped she recalled nothing of the night before. Those were her last pain-free words. Over the next days, she spoke hardly at all, made few sounds beyond a yawn or a sigh. All of her energies went into the rasping rhythm of one breath after another after another.

There could be up to 6 of us in the room at any given time. It is a large room painted butter yellow, high-ceiling-ed, with one wall a bank of white shutters overlooking the garden. Staff wheeled a tray of coffee and snacks into the anteroom. The vase of black licorice was a special hit. Stories constantly flew across and around Maureen’s bed and I wondered how much of them she heard, whether she was frustrated at not being able to get her two cents in, to participate in the surprising amount of laughter. We tried hard to include her in the conversation.

“Redhead, pee the bed, 5 cents a cabbage head! Maureen you are shaking so much, do you have a vibrator under there? ” teased her middle sister.

Some stories referenced the traumas in Maureen’s life, including the death of her only son less than 2 years ago. Did we contribute to her discomfiture I wonder?

Those stories were the touchstones between we handful women of who may have known Maureen originally in different ways but over time and through her became more familiar with one another. Most of us were at her son’s wedding, and also at her husband’s funeral. We may have danced in a circle at a fundraiser or sat across committee tables in heated discussion. We may have met over a meal or at a political protest. At the hospice, we found ourselves balancing cups of tea on the couch in the fire-lit parlour while PSWs tended to Maureen’s body and bedclothes, and we tried to reconcile the elegantly-dressed hummingbird of the ready-made laugh, with the wizened, crepe-draped skeletal wisp under the quilts in Room 1. It took its toll on each of us, but we offered it with clear hearts.

There is a rare intimacy in the wait for merciful death. When you sit either side of a bed, in the dimmed light, taking turns swabbing parched lips with a lollipop sponge ; when your eyes meet across the divide, something changes in both of you, forever. The maelstrom of emotions you share when your dying friend is trying to cry, or the relief that comes when at last she sleeps without tremors and you stop holding your breath for her...it forms a fierce bond between witnesses. Some moments we share, we will simply never forget.

Each one of us in some way tried to help Maureen die. We gave her “permission” in reassuring her that it was okay to go, that we would be fine, that we would watch over her loved ones in her stead. We reminded her that perhaps her son, her husband, her parents, were waiting somewhere to assist her transition into whatever comes after this life. We sat with the musicians who played and sang at her bedside, songs of comfort and of peace: Hallelujah, Imagine, I Believe In Angels, What a Wonderful World. We wept or sang along with them. There is a 20 minute video of the day staff clustered around Maureen’s bed, all of them singing her and themselves into solace.

I think in the final 24 hours of her life, we all managed to spend a little time in Room 1. There is a comfy chair by the window, and when one of us was holding Maureen’s head, offering the energies of Reiki, she remarked: “Well, that’s a first. I felt her swirling above the bed in time to the music on the radio.” We speculated jokingly that perhaps the chair was a portal between worlds.  Maureen was very much a dancer, and a figure skater, when her legs were still free. From her room, I took a homemade CD on which someone has written: “The Best of Gloria Estefan”, because it will make me sing and dance in the car on long trips,and I will feel Maureen in the music. But not yet, not yet.

I re-read a poem a friend had suggested, just before I said my own final goodbye at 10pm on a Friday night:

You have been called from the place of your dwelling,

After times, after, duties, after separations.

May blessed soul-friends guide you,

May helping spirits lead you,

May the Gatherer of Souls call you,

May the homeward path rise up under your feet

And lead you gladly home. (Caitlin Matthews, Celtic Devotional)

The woman who was with Maureen as she took her final breaths about 2 am on Saturday morning said this:” ...it was so sweetly, peacefully, and so quickly over...”

The calls and texts began and the relief spread like fresh honey through the circle of women whose week had been focused on safely seeing a beloved friend, and one another, home. In time, we will gather once more, as you do, for some kind of farewell service and a meal. We will giggle and reminisce, but among the toasts we will quietly raise a glass to ourselves as well, for fearfully, but also so fully, sharing the gift of showing up. Sweetest of dreams, Maureen.