#it really does all fundamentally come back to the 'he never should've come back after series 15' thing i've said before

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Great, now I’m just having a lot of feelings and thoughts about Henrik/Sahira, and that whole fiasco.

I’d like to write it all down at some point, but is it worth the inevitable fandom drama arguing that tends to ensue when you point out that Henrik is a bad person? (And that Sahira was his victim, not vice-versa, and that Henrik was in a position of power over her and he abused that, and how the fandom has been victim-blaming Sahira for years.)

[bringthekaos]

fdslkgjslk I know I've come late to this fandom and I can't believe this is my first ask here but. The latest ones you've got have made my brain go BRRRRR. I think that Viktor as the Herald wouldn't be 100% machine and it's not only because of fangirling ok. This dude is gonna be a posterboy of What It Could Be for humanity. A symbiosis. There's the Hextech/Flesh mix he's made of some of himself, which he'd keep. There's the parts I think he'd def change into a machine entirely. As someone who does have chronic pain, I don't think he'd replace his entire torso, because he's already spent like ten years in a harness, and paradoxically if he replaces his lungs and heart and throat and spine, he'd like to feel what it's not like to be in pain and not be constricted there. Like, maybe he changed his ribs, or maybe he put metal over the sides, but not around the whole thing? So, that's a cyborg feature. I feel like he'd augment his left leg with cyborg parts (specially on the knees and ankles) but keep the flesh. And the hips and buttocks, same thing - Lower back and hips reinforced, flesh for the rest. There's a spiteful streak to him, after all.

And he'd keep his human face. To fuck with Jayce. To know that yes, he has a mask on, and he may believe the mask is his real face (hell, even Viktor feels like it sometimes); but he could take it off any time he wants to.

(Also the temporo-mandibular joint is def going to be metal tho, supported by the chin, because look at this guy and tell me he doesn't have bruxism. And I'm sorry about this huge thing, maybe I should've made a sketch X'DD)

Hiiiiii! I said it once already, but welcome to the fandom! We’re stoked to have you!

I do a lot of flip-flopping on how much I think he’s replaced as the Machine Herald. Sometimes it’s more than others. Like… he preaches the superiority of metal and how the human form can only be improved upon. But then… he enjoys sweetmilk. He has a sense of humor, even in League, where he has supposedly eliminated a fair share of his emotions. So there’s also an element of hypocritical thinking when it comes to Viktor. Like… he says emotion is a barrier between humanity and their highest possible form, but then he finds joy in the little things (like the aforementioned sweetmilk), which is a fundamentally human character trait. And on the other end of that spectrum, as you said, he’s spiteful and holds grudges. Like… my guy has deluded himself into thinking he’s above emotion.

Until we get a definite confirmation in Arcane on just how much augmenting he’s done, it’s fun to play with the options, as a writer. I can write a more detached Viktor, who has replaced basically everything except his brain. And I can write him with very minimal augments—really just what was required to save his life and stop his pain. It’s actually kinda nice, not knowing. For now, anyway. It gives me freedom. But when we do eventually know, I’ll get to write a whole bunch of new canon-compliant stuff!!

I don’t know that Viktor would do anything mod-wise specifically to fuck with Jayce… it kinda depends how bad their falling out is. I feel like Arcane may be stepping back from the contention between them, and making it more of a tragedy of circumstances with notes of personal betrayal. Idk though. If Jayce really does end up betraying him, then all bets are off. He builds parts of himself with the sole intent being to torture Jayce. And maybe even builds the mask so that he never has to look Jayce directly in the eyes again.

Ugh. Can’t believe S2 is still a year away. I NEED ANSWERS.

[ystk-archive]

CAPS LOCK turns ten today! Any thoughts about it looking back? (Yes, it's your time to write that essay!) And do you think Nakata should release an album like this again? I remember you saying that CAPS LOCK should've been a Nakata album, not a CAPSULE one.

It's kind of crazy that anyone would remember something I probably said when I was nineteen, but that's a good (incorrect) opinion of mine to take me to task for since it's a great jump-off point, lol.

I most likely said that not so much because CAPS LOCK doesn't use Toshiko's voice enough -- it uses it extremely well, really, better than the more recent Metro Pulse -- but because the album seems so pensive and insular and bizarrely personal. capsule's music increasingly incorporated gloomy and oppressive overtones starting from FRUITS CLiPPER (and I'll ascribe it as a function of the genre change), but capsule was fundamentally always pop, and moreover always a "good time." The music was supposed to make you get up and dance, not sit and listen in a quiet space. CAPS LOCK was him shifting his ethos, it was an abrupt rejection of what he had been doing. It was close to what I'd always envisioned a "solo Nakata Yasutaka album" to be -- largely or entirely instrumental, completely inscrutable, and room to do more than what he could (or would) with his normal 9-to-5 cubicle musician pop production acts. And it was the first time a capsule album made me feel sad and reflective instead of immersed in a fantasy of a world that I know nothing about and cannot access. It's a sobering album instead of an intoxicating one.

If those are a lot of frou-frou words, I can also call CAPS LOCK the end result of what happens when you talk to Sakamoto Ryuichi just one time (will never stop thinking about how he met him for S&R in 2012 and a year later we got this album lmao); I'll admit there's a sense of insincerity to the album that was sharply amplified by everything that followed (WAVE RUNNER and six years of silence) and it's partially just the sci-fi film score Nakata is never going to be asked to do (wish he'd fund his own, he loves movies and it's not like he ain't got no money). It's also an album that makes the listener want to know more about what's going on there -- it suggests a story (as Toshiko pointed out in this column) though there is none that can be concretely pieced together, it tries to and I think does create vivid environments through its sound design, and some tracks are unenjoyable slogs to hear for those who come to capsule for snappy pop music. There's a fetishizing of recorded sounds here instead of synthesizers; CAPS LOCK is entirely about what every moving part of each song accomplishes in tandem.

But all of this really just functioned as a declaration of capsule's plasticity. Anyone can examine their albums between 2010-2012 and see someone endlessly repeating themselves, sometimes trying to violently elbow their way out of a pigeonhole. CAPS LOCK was so much of a properly-done reversal that I got the impression that, regardless of how fans personally felt about the music itself, it piqued curiosities and got people really invested and excited for what could be created through capsule. It achieved this visually and sonically; basically, it felt like an album that was truly considered and made instead of cobbled together with a black backdrop. It presented Toshiko's voice in an entirely new way, where she actually is an instrument and to remove or replace her with something else would alter the effect, and it evoked enough familiarity with their previous work while still transforming the scope of what a capsule album could justifiably be and how it could make listeners feel.

This has been a whole lot of incoherent rambling but to answer the other question, yes, he absolutely should do another album "'like this," though I struggle to explain what exactly "like this" is even after everything I just wrote LMAO. Another album with a specific intention behind it? Something that is music for music's sake and not a collection of advertisements and safe pop?

[yourlocalzombie]

(Bringing back the headcanons into this one yay)

"Of course you'd say that, " cleo retorted.

"Would you rather I lie?"

The figure floated several feet of the ground, and was only made up of half a human skeleton. It wore only a green rag of clothing, and it's only indication of emotion was a misty eye that carved itself right in front of the forehead.

Cleo hesitated, "I don't know anymore."

The figure gazed at the centerpiece, as if inspecting it. The splintered wood, spreading rust, and dangling string created such a familiar image to the being.

Not only of cleo but countless others.

Cleo practically muttered, "what does a watcher like you think of this piece?"

"Pretty little things wilt away all the time."

Cleo sighed, "you know nothing of more mortal struggles, do you?"

"I don't. I'm not like you or the others, my friend. I make sure things grow, wilt and return to dust. Sometimes I bring the dust back to the living. That is what I know best.

But something I do know is this: you have not lost the beauty of the cycle. You are a showcase of the entirety of it.

That is no small feat."

"I mean, there's plenty of other zombies and skeletons- and you're the one who brought me back to begin with."

"I wouldn't have brought you back, if your spirit had rested.

You were too stubborn to accept death.

And those other things, they are base creatures. They do not feel. They do not think.

You share nothing but green flesh."

"Most people disagree."

Cleo didn't really believe themselves to be so different. They had urges and cravings. They have even been cured.

And by all accounts, they have been hunted like the rest.

"Most people will.

But are you surrounded by them?"

Cleo thought.

"Well, maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Sometimes you think you have a friend and next thing you know....you end up like this..."

Cleo looked back at the centerpiece.

She remembered being down by the river, chased by an ally.

Apparently he yelled into the night that he was sorry.

She never believed that.

And everyone would know what cleo is willing to do in retaliation to traitors after that.

"I suppose that is true. But there is no reason for anyone to do that to you here.

In my decades of following you, I haven't seen a group of people so ready to welcome you.

So ready to keep you.

And ready to keep that promise."

Cleo didn't believe it either. She wanted to but she just...couldn't. She was different from the rest on a fundamental level. She was rotting. She was unnatural.

She was a monster. At best, a monster in the making.

Cleo only responded by shuffling away. They were exhausted and needed to sleep.

The watcher didn't move nor seem to care, simply floating there as cleo locked the skeletons away within.

.....

The zombie spent the next few weeks working away. Making stand bases, gathering woods and stones, as well as gathering their cloth and string.

Though no amount of work eased their troubles.

At night, the creature would be haunted by nightmares of deaths past, and allegedly future.

The hermit would change but the message the same: cleo wasn't welcomed.

Sometimes she was stabbed. Other times burned. Simply chased out. Abandoned.

All it meant was that cleo should've left.

But she didn't.

It's true she was stubborn, but... she had nowhere to go either. Even if they beat, stabbed, burned: she'd probably come crawling back.

She's been here too long.

Cleo's exhaustion caught up to them as they checked on their stand and statue shop.

They sat in between the roots of the ever-pink cherry blossom tree, nestling herself within the safety of the earth. Shr closed her eyes, and returned to sleep.

Their dream was unhappy about it, however.

The dream was the same premise as it had been, but this time the hermit was Gem.

Gem, deceptively sweet Gem.

Gem knew how to fight better than half of them, a sword rapidly tearing already worn flesh. Blood spilling to try and repair what would never be fully fixed.

As cleo fell to the ground, unable to stand or even sit, she looked up.

Gem's expression was blank. No anger or hate nor enjoyment or love.

Like she was just doing a job. Doing what needed to be done.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But the dream did not deem destruction sufficient.

The last thing cleo had seen and felt was a hoof ramming down, crushing into her face. Skull caved, brain mashed.

Cleo startled awake, tears rolling down her face and into the grass below. They spun their head around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.

Only seeing some distant figure, cleo rapidly tried to regain composure. Wiping their face and clearing their throat, cleo stood up and looked within their order storage.

Perhaps, it would hide their face.

The person approached rapidly, having likely heard cleo's rude awakening.

Fortunately it was Joe, who knew not to push.

"Howdy Cleo, how are you?"

"Oh, as well as I can be, you?"

"Considering nothing catastrophic has happened, great!"

Cleo chortled, given Joe's uncanny bad luck, she supposed that was good.

"Any orders?"

"Nope"

"Hm, well," Joe thought for a moment, "you should advertise"

"I'm not sure how to advertise statues, joe-"

"I think we should make statues and stands randomly appear in houses. All creepy like, too, put the fear of the void into them until they realize it's just a really good stand"

"....alright Joe, you win."

"Yes!" Joe exclaimed through a wide grin, "mischief!"

"Mischief!" Cleo mimicked.

Joe and cleo discussed the logistics, concluding that Joe will serve as a distraction and cleo would find some other way in after making the stands and statues.

Joe also encouraged cleo to seek some Redstone help from etho, given his prowess.

Cleo agreed, since it would also serve as a way to apologize too. Some extra payment or the like. Something like that.

Alas, it was starting to get late, as cleo had slept through most of the light.

After saying their goodbyes, the zombie returned to their castle and got to work: ignoring the call of sleep for however long they could.

[bearpillowmonster]

The Last of Us HBO

This show is sort of in a bad situation because it's an adaptation of a beloved property that's going to be criticized if you're too close to the source material and too far, not to mention it's a video game property which has a track record of being subpar to just plain bad. And then that game is one of the most well known games of all time so there's that.

To be honest, I haven't played the games but I'd be living under a rock if I didn't know a lot of what already happens. And how do you do that? How do you subvert expectations when everyone already knows the spoiler?

I have the advantage to look at this from a different lens than that of a fan but I still can't help but draw comparisons and I think that's partially because it's so baked in. A good scene to represent this with is the truck getaway. In the game, you have a third person perspective of Sarah so you're in the backseat while these guys drive recklessly. It's not the same exact scene but it serves the exact same job using the exact same technique. If you watched a scene with very similar dialogue and the same end point, but just different means to get there, what did you see? Is it worth seeing again? In a game, you can feel the vibration of the controller as the car backs up and the intensity of your surroundings and how they're invading your little bubble. The scene in the show does a good job of replicating that but does that mean you're missing something?

If you've played the Last of Us and didn't like it then I don't think this show will do anything for you. There are differences but I think they fundamentally have the same problems but I think that doubles for if you liked the game, I think you'll at least enjoy it for what it's worth for a whole other Last of Us revisit after the initial game, the remaster, the remake and now this. Neil Druckmann is still involved and you can definitely tell his fingerprints are on it, unfortunately they still have unnecessary cursing. (like, you don't need it to make it gritty, how many times do I have to tell you that?) People who were jerks are still jerks. There are better things about it, there are worse things.

The other guy involved, the freaking director, Craig Mazin and his stupid comments about video games. I just don't understand but first I'll give him a hand for actually walking the walk after talking the talk but I still think some of his comments are wrong and that they don't even make sense in this context when he literally uses video game techniques to make it happen but oh well.

I mean literally, despite never playing the game, I knew what must have been there. "Ellie, I'll give you a boost, drop that ladder down to me." Little stuff like that, but it didn't really feel forced or out of place. I see now where a Last of Us MMO could come in, sort of like making it an RPG where you can choose to fight or join the Fireflies, I think that'd be quite fun but from what I see, it's a battle royale.

Acting. Pedro. That's all. I mean, I got my space cowboy but now I've got the southern accent to boot, all he needs is a little hat and we're good to go!

Honestly, it's probably better taken episode by episode because aside from actively trying to make you dislike the characters in a specific way in order to care about them, there are a few really good episodes and even the bad episodes have good parts but they are dominantly bad episodes and just straight bad characters or characters that have no relevance but get spotlight anyway. That isn't to say that it's only the new stuff that's bad either, there's a lot of good new stuff too, it's just a mystery as to what you're getting in any given episode, you can normally tell "Oh, this will be one of the predominantly good ones."

The end. Though I knew how it would end, it felt a little bit short lived and I don't mean that in length, more like they were trying to get it done, like the moments didn't hit as hard as they should've because of one reason or another. It all feels pretty summed up. Dialogue was disappointing since it was the last episode and they have a short moment before it all goes down where it feels like they trauma dump rather than a nice payoff to seeing them slowly trust each other enough to reveal one's insecurities which is ironic considering….well, season 2 will answer for that but all in all, a decent video game product.

[tothedarkdarkseas]

Maybe 3, even though Seething Coast already has elements of it, just because I like the song. Amarillo is a great song, but it's already been written about in the most direct way possible in Seething Coast.

#3, as you must've seen, is Pacifico by Ugly Casanova. I really appreciate that you see elements of it in Seething Coast; actually, at points in the story I had the draft titled both The Pacific to be Specific (after an AJJ song, amusing but scrapped early) and Pacifico (fitting in both lyrical content and a snappy title) before settling on Seething Coast. It'd had too major of an impact on the plot ("plot," I say, of the grim scenes strung together by threads of daylight through closed blinds) for me to go any other way in the end, but I'd always intended for the final scene to take place on the beach and for the Pacific to feel like something with great presence, and in many ways I don't think anything captures the person Stuart is shifting into being better than Pacifico.

(PS: Thank you for thinking of Amarillo as well. I don't in fact know what I'd do differently with it if I had to, but it has grown on me immensely in the past two years. Regardless of whether I think it speaks the most meaningfully to Stuart on the album or not, and I'm not sure that it does, I do think it's an extremely well put-together song. I think I'd rank Amarillo in my top 5 Gorillaz picks now.)

...So having said all that, it is challenging to approach Pacifico in a way that is fundamentally different from Seething Coast or from things discussed on this blog. (I'm sorry, I'm sure this ask game is meant to invite new plotlines but my music taste really goes hand in hand with the themes I've already beaten into the ground, haha.) For me, I think it would have to be "what comes next"-- the hiatus, or perhaps a single year's worth of it, between the split that follows the tour and their eventual reunion for Humanz. The moments of disbanding would be told through memories, I'm imagining, spotting Stuart's life post-fame, the places he can't return to, the peace he isn't finding. The days of isolation and escapism would be less turbulent, but the anger well-worn in, now fitting to the contours of his feet like glass crushed to sand. There would be a sense of acceptance, pervasive but not celebrated; it is blunt-edged, but that is because we've stood by as it sawed through bone and left him half of who was before, and two halves less than who he should've been. No more America, not again until Detroit. No more England, because every Stuart cut from the edges of heart and lung has grown into another living body there, and they all know him from the windmill on the telly, praising his great heights in envy while shrinking a box around him like veal. I don't think it would necessarily cover the latter half of the split and the decision to return, the resignation to it, the knowing of a need he's been saddled with like an addict; I think to honor the song properly it would need to stay on the path of Stu surviving where the ideal Stus at last wither, and the singular Him, the Him who has never been alone inside himself, becoming the steel-spined and knife-toothed Stuart who will, on a day of no great meaning following many hundreds of days of no great meaning, go back. That's what I'm spitballing here anyway, haha. Maybe not distinct enough of a story to warrant existing, but that's where I am pulled for the time being.

[tolkien-feels]

Silmblogging: Quenta 3: Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor

Let's do some catching up!

Disclaimer: I'm extremely fond of the BoLT version of the Captivity of Melkor so I'm very biased against the published Silm for this one 😬 The BoLT version would never work with the published Silm but you can't beat it for sheer entertainment value

Love how Yavanna Kementari, gentle lover of everything which grows, is always down to get Morgoth's ass kicked. I mean, she can barely tolerate the Children destroying her creations, she sure won't let Morgoth get away with it. But it's so funny

Not to get on my BoLT Captivity Superiority agenda again but you know how Yavanna says Morgoth is challenging Manwe's authority and Tulkas immediately says they should fight? Watch hold on to this extremely tenuous evidence that even in the published Silm I can have the ICONIC relationship that is BoLT Tulkas and Manwe. Please Tolkien don't steal away from me the "Hot-headed warrior god is protective of pacifist king god and accidentally invents being an anger translator in the process" dynamic I'm begging you

Anyway, back to the actual text. What's up with Orome finding the elves? I mean, it's got to be Iluvatar's doing, right? Ulmo or Manwe or Varda or Mandos would've been likelier choices due to their special skills of witnessing all things that happen under certain conditions. And the word "chance" is used in the text, which is pretty much proof that it's Providence or whatever you want to call it.

But 1) what does Orome provide that other Valar couldn't? And 2) if Iluvatar can hide the Children from the Valar.... Can't he hide them from Morgoth who's traumatizing them pretty much from the second they wake up? Or rather, why didn't he?

Elves going from "The stars are so pretty!! Let's sing!!" to "There are horrors hiding in waiting to devour us, the world is fundamentally a dangerous place. Let's sing!!" is so on brand on every level, I can never read that paragraph without wanting to laugh

Not to criticize Manwe my beloved, but if he could seek the counsel of Iluvatar, wouldn't it be better to ask What's To Be Done About The Elves instead of What's To Be Done About Morgoth?

I can imagine exactly none of the great battles involving Valar but this one for some reason is especially impossible for me to picture

Iluvatar: I, a Maker, who have only created makers, shall have Children. They shall awake in the heart of Middle Earth and they'll fall in love with it.

Valar: Got it, even if we keep losing some of them we'll take them to the land where they'll have no need to create anything

I mean I understand that they love the elves and I feel a lot of compassion for them because I can see they're doing their very best but like. Feanor loved the Silmarils and we can all agree he should've given them up in order to heal Aman. Maybe the Valar should've given up the elves to heal Middle Earth. Love not too well the works of thy hands but also love not too well the works of Iluvatar's hands, guys!

I'd LOVE to know more about the friendship between Thingol and Finwe. In general, I feel like we should know more about Finwe given how important he is, but especially this. I feel it'd make the future wars in Beleriand even more heartbreaking

That's about all I can remember after a week 😬 I really have to be more timely about these

[xiyao-feels]

Nie//yao (MDZS)

So NMJ/JGY is actually getting two versions, because my read on them is wildly different for MDZS vs CQL.

In MDZS I...don't ship it? I mean, there just doesn't seem to be to be anything there at all of a romantic or sexual nature. It's not that they don't care about each other, they clearly do, but it's in a way that is...NMJ as substitute father, JGY as substitute brother, and heavily, heavily inflected by their (current and then former) relationship as superior and subordinate.

Putting this behind a cut because a) it's me explaining at breath length with quotes why I don't think they have a romantic or sexual relationship and I don't want people to have to see that unless they want and b) accordingly it is REALLY LONG and I also don't want to clutter people's dashes, so.

Actually backing up a step, I don't see MDZS NMJ as being attracted to anyone, that's not really specific to JGY. I tend to read him as aspec, tbh. So theoretically he could have romantic feelings about JGY without being attracted to him—I think he may have some quasi-romantic feelings for LXC, though I don't think he conceptualizes it that way—but... honestly, it's not really clear to me that he even likes JGY as a person.

I'm not saying he doesn't like JGY! He clearly does, at least before MY tricks him and flees. But it doesn't seem to have anything to do with MY's personality, as opposed to like—MY being really competent and conducting himself well.

Some quotes about what exactly NMJ values about JGY:

'Nie MingJue interrupted him, “I promoted you not because I wanted you to give back anything out of gratitude. I simply thought that you should stay in this position, since you are capable enough and your conduct is to my liking. If you really want to pay me back, just kill a few more of those Wen-dogs on the battlefield!”'

'After [Meng Yao] left [for Langya], Nie MingJue switched to another deputy. Wei WuXian, however, felt that the new one was always a few beats slower. Meng Yao was an unusually clever talent. He could understand what wasn’t said, and perform to the best with the simplest orders. He was efficient and never slacked. Anyone used to him wouldn’t be able to refrain from comparing him with others.'

'Nie MingJue was never close to people. He rarely opened up to anyone. Though he finally managed to obtain a competent, trustworthy subordinate, whose character and capabilities he approved, he found that the subordinate’s true colors were nothing like what he had thought they were. It was only natural that his reaction was so extreme.'

'Wei WuXian had once found it strange as well. Ever since Meng Yao betrayed the QingheNie Sect, the relationship between Nie MingJue and him hadn’t been the same as before. Then why did they later become sworn brothers? From his observations, aside from how Lan XiChen brought it up, having always hoped that the two would reconcile, the most important factor was probably the gratitude of saving his life and writing the letters. To be precise, in his past battles, he had more-or-less depended on the information that Meng Yao sent over through Lan XiChen. He still thought that Jin GuangYao was a talented person whom one would rarely come upon, and intended on leading him back onto the right path. However, Jin GuangYao wasn’t his subordinate anymore. Only after they became sworn brothers would he have the status and the position to urge Jin GuangYao, like how he disciplined his younger brother, Nie HuaiSang.'

Jin GuangYao spoke with dejection, “But, Brother, didn’t you hear what he said in the oath? Every sentence meant something more. ‘Face a thousand accusing fingers, be torn from limb to limb’—this was clearly a warning for me. I… I’ve never heard of such an oath before.”

Lan XiChen replied in a gentle voice, “He said ‘if one were to think otherwise’. Do you think otherwise? If not, then why should you worry over it so much?"

Jin GuangYao, “I don’t, but Brother has already decided that I do, so what can I do?”

Lan XiChen, “He has always cherished your talent, hoping that you would choose the right path.”

You might notice a recurring theme here: there's a lot of focus JGY's competence and conduct. But anything about who JGY is as a person? Not so much.

They clearly had a good superior/subordinate relationship going on, albeit one in which NMJ was missing a lot of context (see just behave well and show people up, plus the you're missing a solid foundation thing). But it does seem to be basically professional. WWX describes them as conversing "peaceably, even impressively" in contrast to "his future self, always being scolded by Nie MingJue" and "those jokes of how 'LianFang-Zun fled whenever he heard that ChiFeng-Zun arrived,'" and.... that's kind of it. The closest we get to them as friends is them talking together with LXC after NMJ tells MY he will give him a letter of recommendation and send him to his father; as WWX describes it, "The three chatted back and forth, at times serious, yet at times light. The conversation was much more relaxed than when they had been in the living room. Listening to their chatter, Wei WuXian often wanted to get a word in as well, yet he was unable to do so."

That's definitely not nothing! But it's also the most we ever get, only shows up the once, and is explicitly contrasted with their conversation from earlier. Moreover, I'm pretty sure LXC's presence is a necessary part of things; NMJ tends to respond differently to LXC than to other people (even just earlier in this chapter, we're told that while "Nie MingJue had never been one for humour," "in front of Lan XiChen his expression eased"), and WWX explicitly notes LXC's conversation skills in the context of this conversation: "At this point in time, their relationship really isn't bad. Zewu-Jun is actually quite good at holding conversations, so why is Lan Zhan so bad at it?"

In addition, I'd say that looking at the early part of that conversation is quite telling; while LXC and MY are sitting together as equals, MY stand up at once the moment NMJ interrupts, and doesn't sit even after NMJ tells him to do so (I think he probably does take a seat at some point, but the narrative doesn't actually tell us when). Moreover, MY seems to be worried that NMJ will be offended by a possible lack of gratitude on MY's part ("Sect Leader Nie, if you heard everything, then you should've also heard me say that..."), and the only objection he expresses to leaving is precisely that he owes NMJ a debt of gratitude, not anything to do with, like, missing him. To me all the evidence suggests that while they had a close relationship, it was not a /personal/ relationship, but fundamentally one of superior and subordinate.

(For a close read of the scene where NMJ, LXC and MY are talking together, I highly recommend @confusion-and-more's post here)

Moving on, let's look at after JGY becomes JGY. They don't seem to particularly spend time together with each other, certainly not for the sake of it. There's a brief moment at the Flower Banquet where NMJ asks JGY why he's wasting his time with XY (who has not at this point in time committed his crime, he just has a reputation), but after JGY makes his excuse and scurries away, NMJ turns away and doesn't seem to seek him out or even pay him any particular attention for the rest of the scene; he only shows up once more, and that's following WWX. (And although JGY-as-replacement-NHS would be a post all on its own, I do think it's interesting to note that the exchange about XY is immediately followed by LXC and LWJ coming over, described in a way that highlights both their impressiveness and their status at brothers—their Twin Jade-ness, one might say.) During the guqin scene, NMJ only speaks once, and it's to address LXC—to protest the inappropriateness of LXC leaking exclusive Lan techniques. When JGY shows up to play the guqin for him the first time, NMJ asks JGY "what did you come here for," which suggests that NMJ is not generally expecting JGY to come by without a specific, concrete reason. The closest they ever seem to get after JGY becomes JGY is during these guqin-playing sessions, and as WWX describes it, "when playing the guqin, the way that the two conversed and got along even had a hint of the peace they had before they fell out"—which is certainly better than there being no peace at all, but which I think suggests there's still at least some tension, given that it's only a "hint."

Now, NMJ certainly cares about JGY, both in the sense of desiring his well-being, at first, and absolutely in the sense of being emotionally invested in him—even after his death, as a fierce corpse his only desire is to kill Jin Guangyao. But while they had a close superior-subordinate relationship—certainly NMJ seems to have felt close to MY—at no point was it a close personal relationship, and I don't think that NMJ even liked JGY (or MY, I'm using the name expansively) as a person, let alone was in love with him.

But mostly so far I've been focusing in NMJ's feelings. What about JGY? Is /he/ in love with NMJ?

Once again, I just don't read him that way. This isn't to say he didn't care for NMJ—he absolutely did! He goes to quite significant lengths to save his life from WRH in the Sun Palace, including quite a lot of risk to MY himself—I analyze that in a lot more depth in the first part of my post here, if you're interested, though I will also note now that he specifically sent for LXC to help NMJ. (You'll have to scroll down some; I'm responding to someone else's post.) Afterwards, he kneels to NMJ and apologizes, I think sincerely, for hurting him and for invoking his pain about his father's death. He certainly conceives of himself as owing a debt of gratitude to NMJ for recognizing him, and he's so overcome when NMJ offers to send him to his father with a letter of recommendation, saying that he didn't promote MY so that MY would owe him, that he quite remarkably can't even find words. NMJ meant a lot to him, and so did NMJ's not defining him in terms of his birth—until he did, of course, at the stairs kick incident. But as far as I can tell, there's nothing to suggest he has /romantic feelings/ for NMJ, and frankly—how can I put this—it does not at all surprise me that JGY isn't in love with someone with a violent temper who is noted at least twice to react to people explaining themselves when he is angry with even more anger, and that's even without the thing where he nearly killed JGY on multiple occasions and called him the son of a prostitute.

No, I think JGY's emotional journey with NMJ goes through three stages: first, he's deeply grateful to him and respects him a great deal, although he's also aware of NMJ's lack of awareness of certain social realities (see: the teacup scene, NMJ yelling at the other Nie cultivators about their treatment of MY and telling MY not to worry as long as his conduct is upright); second, after Sun Palace, still gratitude and respect but also a mounting frustration with his lack of awareness of the implications of JGY's social position and his hypocrisy re: acceptable violence; finally, after the stairs kick when NMJ kicks him down the stairs, almost kills him, and tells him what else can be expected from the son of a prostitute, he is completely done with NMJ, but is still very much scared of him. The gratitude, I've discussed; the frustration, I think is fairly obvious in the speech he gives back to NMJ at the stairs. But I think the fear is often undervalued, so I'm going to pull a bunch of quotes again:

Meng Yao shrunk immediately after his previous outburst. Watching Baxia slash toward him, he sprinted off at once, scared lifeless. Of the two, one striked with madness and the other fled with madness. Both staggered, still soaked in blood. In such amusing circumstances, as Wei WuXian chopped at the future Chief Cultivator, in his heart he split his sides laughing. He thought that if not for how Nie MingJue was under heavy injuries and lacked spiritual power, Meng Yao would probably have been dead already.

Baxia’s strikes were so menacing that Shuoyue had to unsheath. Lan XiChen stopped him, half to support his figure and half to block his attacks, “MingJue-xiong, calm down! Why bother?”

Nie MingJue, “Why don’t you ask what he did?!”

Lan XiChen turned around to look at Meng Yao, his face was full of terror. He stammered as if he didn’t dare speak.

Nie MingJue remained silent, while Baxia and Shuoyue continued. Meng Yao took a glimpse at the glares from the clashes of the saber and the sword, his gaze full of fear. After a while, however, he still took a step forward. He kneeled to Nie MingJue.

A moment later, Nie MingJue still raised his saber. Lan XiChen, “MingJue-xiong!”

Meng Yao shut his eyes. Lan XiChen also tightened his grip on Shuoyue, “Please excuse…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the silver light of the blade slashed down violently, onto a boulder on the side.

Meng Yao flinched from the thunder of the boulder splitting apart. Looking over, he saw that it had been sliced into two halves, from the top to the bottom.

Jin GuangYao nodded. Xue Yang had been infamous ever since he was young. Wei WuXian clearly felt Nie MingJue’s brows knit even tighter. He spoke, “Why are you wasting your time with such a person?”

Jin GuangYao, “The LanlingJin Sect recruited him.”

He didn’t dare to protest any further. Excuse being that he needed to care for the guests, he scurried to the other side.

[part of his speech to NMJ at the stairs] You think that I should be afraid of nothing? Well I'm afraid of everything, even other people!

Within the temple, three people called Nie MingJue’s corpse ‘Brother’ but the three tones were drastically different. Jin GuangYao’s face was full of a drowning fear. His entire body began to shiver. No matter dead or alive, the person Jin GuangYao was most scared of was none but this sworn brother of his whose temper tolerated no evil. As his body shivered, his hands shivered as well, and the bloody guqin string he clutched tightly in his hand also began to shiver.

Clenching his teeth, Jin GuangYao struck a few acupoints of his arm. Amidst the dizziness that came from a loss of blood, he suddenly saw Nie MingJue walk a step towards him, his eyes locked on him. He was immediately half-dead with fear.

Collapsed beside Lan XiChen, Jin GuangYao saw this scene as well. Whether because the bleeding and the pain intensified at his arm and stomach or from some other reason, the glisten of tears could be seen in his eyes. But before he had a chance to catch his breath or lick his wounds, Nie MingJue turned around after he pulled his fist back and stared hungrily in his direction.

The harsh, stern expression on his rigid face held a sense of judgement that was no different from before he died. Even his tears had been scared away as Jin GuangYao turned to Lan XiChen for help, his voice trembling, “Brother…”

I think the stuff with, you know, handling NMJ's fierce corpse and hanging onto his head is often viewed as evidence of JGY's continued emotional investment in NMJ, but... I don't really think so? First of all, NMJ's fierce corpse is completely obsessed with killing JGY. I'll spare you another round of quotes on that because this is already ridiculously long and because it's not at all subtle—it's all over the temple chapters, take a look! And second of all—well, there's ways of getting information from a corpse. In this case, NMJ's resentful energy is so strong that without the protection of his body, papernan WWX is actually sucked into NMJ's memories against his will! Sure, maybe no one would risk it, and maybe no one who risked it would survive, but especially given that NMJ's fierce corpse is completely obsessed with killing JGY, that's a heck of a risk to take. And look at the description of the protections around NMJ's head:

Suddenly, Wei WuXian noticed that one of the shelves were blocked by a curtain. The curtain was covered in sinister, blood-red runes. It was a talisman of forbiddance, one of extreme power.

Jin GuangYao walked over and lifted the curtain.

For a split second, Wei WuXian thought that he had been exposed. After the faint firelight made its way through the curtain, he found that he was enveloped in a shadow. A circular object just happened to be in front of him.

Jin GuangYao stood still, as though he was staring into the eyes of whatever was inside this shelf.

After a moment, he spoke, “Were you the one looking at me?"

Of course, there couldn’t be any response. He was silent for a while, then let down the curtain.

Wei WuXian quietly attached himself to the object. Cold and hard, it seemed to be a helmet. He then turned to the front. As he had expected, he saw a pallid face. The one who sealed the head wanted it to see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing, and so incantations had been crowded onto the waxen skin. The eyes, the ears, and the mouth were all sealed tightly shut.

There's containment, it's suppressed to all hell and back, and JGY quite justifiably expects it to be murderously obsessed with him, but to me it doesn't suggest a reciprocal obsession—just more fear.

I'll also note that as a strategy for containing the information about his own involvement it's a very successful operation! It failed in the end /eventually/, but the failure needed:

someone who could successfully break into his private treasure room and escape without being caught

who could also perform Empathy or a similar tecnnique on NMJ's head and survive it

who could successfully recreate from memory the altered Empathy song

whom LXC would be willing to listen to

That's a heck of a tall order!

As to being done with NMJ after the stairs, well, listen to what he says to LXC:

Jin GuangYao spoke with dejection, “But, Brother, didn’t you hear what he said in the oath? Every sentence meant something more. ‘Face a thousand accusing fingers, be torn from limb to limb’—this was clearly a warning for me. I… I’ve never heard of such an oath before.”

[...]

Jin GuangYao, “It’s not that I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong, but that sometimes I really can’t help. Nowadays, I have it bad no matter which side I’m on. I have to ensure that I’m on everyone’s good sides. I wouldn’t care if it were someone else, but have I mistreated our eldest brother in any way? Brother, you heard as well. What did he call me?”

[...]

Jin GuangYao was almost sobbing, “If he could say such a thing when he was angry, then just how does he think of me on a daily basis? Is it that because I couldn’t choose my background, because my mother couldn’t choose her fate, I’ll have to be humiliated by others throughout my whole life? If so, then how is Brother different from the people who look down on me? No matter what I do, in the end, just a sentence and I’m ‘the son of a prostitute’.”

And then of course there's what he says to LXC, in his speech to him at the end: "You, on the other hand, ZeWu-Jun, Sect Leader Lan, are as intolerant of me as Nie MingJue—you refuse to spare me even a single breath of life!"

So—wow, this got very long—I don't ship them, and although I think they have very much mattered emotionally to each other, I don't really see them as ever having been in love with or attracted to each other.

A couple of end notes:

In MDZS, NMJ isn't the first (non-MS) person who recognizes MY's worth, although he is the first person to promote him; by the time NMJ promotes MY MY has already met, rescued, and exchanged intimate confidences with LXC, who respects him greatly and thinks he is highly talented (see again the conversation in Hejian which NMJ overhears/eavedrops on).

I've seen people talk about them not understanding each other, but while NMJ certainly doesn't understand JGY, it's not at all obvious that the reverse is true; he generally seems to understand him pretty well. I think he has two surprises overall: first, that he wasn't expecting NMJ to say he didn't promote MY so MY would owe him, and volunteer to send him to his father with a letter of recommendation—and second, he wasn't expecting NMJ, who for all his flaws did seem to ignore JGY's background in good ways as well as bad, to call him the son of a prostitute.

I definitely don't read the coffin at the end as romantic. Or I mean, uh, there's the romance of an obsessive stalker-murderer finally getting his victim, and that's not nothing (unironically; look, I'm a Hannibal fan), but I don't think it's usually what people mean. This is a shitty end for JGY, part of how thoroughly he loses and is destroyed. I think to some extent it might be that he doesn't want LXC to be the one who killed him, and to some extent it's an act of defiance—now that he has nothing to lose, not even his life, he's going to go out fighting. I would expand on this but this post is ridiculously long and I have way too many quotes, maybe I'll do it in a separate post later on—but if you look at the description of it in the text, plus the subsequent description of it in the coffin...yeah. JGY didn't want to die, he didn't want to be engaged in a mutually destructive thing with NMJ; he wanted to leave NMJ behind in the past, and move on. It's not, for him any kind of fulfillment, is my read.

All quotes are taken from the Exiled Rebels translation: ch 48-50 for everything about NMJ and JGY's past relationship, ch. 47 for the description of JGY's containment measures for NMJ's head, and ch. 106-108 for the quotes about JGY's fear of NMJ's fierce corpse. The description of JGY going into the coffin is at the end of 108 if you want to have a look, and there's more in 109 and 110 about the difficulty of sealing NMJ's fierce corpse/its power and violence.

[fexiled]

Make Me Believe Again

Fandom: Gravity Falls Characters: Stanford Pines, Stanley Pines, Fiddleford McGucket Word Count: ~4600 Summary: Ford heals and recovers, in more ways than one. Warnings: Implied/referenced self-harm, suicidal thoughts, non-graphic description of chemical burns Notes: inspired by a universe from the fic Homologous by @asdmabel. in case you were wondering how long it takes me to get anything done, i started writing this in november, finished it in january, and then sat on it for four months before i finally went back and edited it. as with everything i write, it's super self-indulgent. please enjoy also on ao3

Fiddleford and Stanley visit you in the hospital every day after your accident in the Backupsmore labs; sometimes separately, sometimes together. Surprisingly, you find that you prefer when Stanley visits by himself, because when Fiddleford comes by he always wants to talk, and even though it’s mostly just meaningless chit-chat, you still can barely manage to function past the fog in your head and focus on whatever he’s saying, much less contribute to the conversation. And he always looks so anxious and worried about you, his gaze flickering between your one good eye and all the bandages covering your burns, and you have to force yourself to act okay and reassure him that you’re fine when you are very obviously not.

Stanley never makes you feel like you need to talk, which seems ironic, since you two probably have the most to talk about after not seeing each other for years. He doesn’t try to force conversation, though. He’ll chide you into eating whatever tasteless meal the nurse has brought you and ask if he can have your pudding cup (you hate tapioca, so you always give it to him), but for the most part he seems okay with not talking at all. You’re grateful for the silence, and the sleep it lets you get.

Sometimes you wake up and the palm of your unburned hand feels warm and sweaty, and your fingers are tingling like someone was holding your hand far too tight, but when you look over at Stanley he’s got his hands shoved in his jacket pockets and he’s staring pointedly at the cheesy daytime soap opera playing on your room’s tiny TV.

You wonder if he knows. Does he know that what you did wasn’t an accident? Well, technically it was, you suppose, because you didn’t mean to do this much damage, but it could’ve easily been avoided altogether if you’d actually still cared enough about yourself to wear safety gear and stick to less destructive methods of coping with feeling empty inside, like drinking or smoking or whatever normal people your age do. Still, you think Stanley knows something, at least. He hasn’t mentioned anything, but it’s obvious he’s worried because he’s doing that thing where he chews at his lips until they’re chapped and bleeding. Maybe Fiddleford told him about your recent behavior, or maybe he can tell something’s fundamentally wrong with you just from the look on your face.

Of course, maybe he’s just worried about you because you’re in the hospital being treated for chemical burns.

Yeah, you think as you drift off to sleep again, you guess that one makes the most sense.

***

Fiddleford is in class on the day you get discharged from the hospital, so it’s Stanley who drives you back to your dorm and guides you to sit on the couch, and it’s Stanley who asks, in the softest, most careful tone you’ve ever heard from him, if you want him to help you change your bandages. You can only nod, staring down at your lap as anxiety sets your heart pounding.

Neither of you have seen what the burns look like yet. When the nurse changed your bandages you would send everyone else out of the room and close your eyes until it was over with. You don’t want to know what you look like but you need to know what you look like, you need to see how horribly you’ve screwed yourself up and how much more of a freak you are now.

Stanley removes the bandages with an uncharacteristic gentleness, as if he can tell that you’re about to have a breakdown if he so much as looks at you the wrong way. He must’ve been developing his poker face in the time you’ve been apart, because his expression stays completely neutral as he unwraps your hand and arm. He does react to your face, though it’s little more than a wince and a hitch of breath, and does nothing to prepare you for seeing it yourself.

You manage to look for about five seconds before you have to put down the hand mirror, screwing your eyes shut. Stanley doesn’t say anything as he redresses the burns, and you just focus on taking deep breaths and pushing down the nausea that’s bubbling up in your throat.

When he’s done, Stanley takes your good hand and squeezes it reassuringly. You can’t find the strength to squeeze back. He asks how you’re feeling, and you don’t know how to answer. Instead you mumble something about calling home to let your parents know you’re out of the hospital, and then Stanley is placing the phone in your hand and your numb fingers are dialing the number. You don’t know what you’re going to tell them or how you’re going to explain yourself, but it turns out you don’t get to anyway, as it’s your father who answers and you barely get a full sentence out before he starts ranting about hospital bills and what the hell is wrong with you and how could you be so stupid and do you know who’s going to have to pay for all of this? And then you’re not listening because you’ve completely shut down because you can’t handle this. You can’t even open your mouth to speak, to defend yourself, not that there’s any way you can, because you were so stupid stupid stupid and you think maybe you should’ve done something even more stupid so you wouldn’t still be here at all.

And then Stanley is grabbing the phone out of your white-knuckled grip and he’s yelling back at your father, all how dare you talk to your son like that and don’t even think about blaming him for this and how about you show a little compassion for once in your goddamn life, with a few more choice expletives thrown in for good measure, and some emotion flickers in your chest at hearing him stick up for you again like he would when you were kids—and to your father, no less—but you can barely even comprehend what it is you’re feeling right now, much less respond to it.

Stanley slams the phone down on its base with a final “screw you,” and you still can’t speak or even bring yourself to look at him or at anything that isn’t your violently trembling hands. You’re focusing all of your energy on holding yourself together, but when Stanley puts a hand on your shoulder, the dam breaks. A sob tears its way out of your throat, loud and ugly and painful, and before you know it, your brother has pulled you into his arms and you’re blubbering incoherently into his shoulder. He smells kinda bad and you wonder when the last time he showered was, but decide it doesn’t matter anyway because you can’t remember when you last showered either. At least he’s here. Your father may not care about what happened to you, but Stanley still does, and that’s all that matters right now. Stanley drove from who-knows-where to see you and make sure you’re okay, even after you cut him out of your life, and boy that’s another stupid thing you did, isn’t it? It’s a wonder he doesn’t hate you. But he cares about you, he always has. He stood up to your father to defend you, that’s how much he cares. That’s the kind of support you should’ve given him years ago. Maybe he wouldn’t have been kicked out then.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, your voice cracking pathetically on the word. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—” And you don’t really know what exactly you’re sorry for—pushing Stanley away? dragging him back? making him worry? doing this to yourself (or maybe not doing enough)—but you can’t stop saying it anyway, until Stanley hugs you a bit tighter, shushing you softly.

When your sobs quiet to whimpers you can hear his gentle repeated murmurs of “it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m right here,” as he rocks you back and forth, and it’s almost enough to make you start crying anew.

“I-I’m so s-s-stupid,” you stutter against him. “I s-should've—I should’ve just—!” Your voice raises and cuts off awkwardly, unsure of how or even if you want to end that sentence at all. “I’m sorry,” is what you say again instead, as if Stanley can read your mind and know where your thoughts were headed.

“Hey. You’re not stupid,” Stanley says firmly, “and I forgive you.” For what, you want to ask, because it certainly can’t be everything, but you keep quiet, and Stanley keeps talking. “And it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna get better, Ford, I promise. Whatever you need me to do for you, just tell me, okay?”

You nod shakily, and choke out a weak “help me,” because it’s all you can think to say. “Just—help me. Please.”

“You got it, Sixer.”

***

You go to therapy.

It’s hard at first, talking about how you’ve been feeling and what you’ve been thinking, when all you can hear is your father’s voice telling you to suck it up and stop being such a weakling because you’re supposed to be better than this, but by the end of the first session you’ve got a written prescription for an antidepressant in your hand and tear tracks on your cheeks and another appointment scheduled for the same time next week, and you feel… well, admittedly, not that great. But at least you got some things off your chest, even if it’s only a fraction of the overall weight.

It's gonna be okay. You’re gonna get better, Stanley’s words echo in your mind, and you can almost believe them.

Stanley and Fiddleford look up at you with concerned expressions when you walk out into the waiting room, so you give them a small, reassuring smile, the only thing you can manage right now. Their faces light up in response. Fiddleford gives you a hug and Stanley claps you on the shoulder, giving you a lopsided grin and a “proud of you, Sixer,” and you smile a little wider.

Getting better is about as difficult as you expected to be. It takes time, and you have your ups and downs, and sometimes you still can’t manage to get out of bed or make yourself eat anything, and sometimes Fiddleford or Stanley will find you crying on the bathroom floor, overwhelmed with grief because you caught a glimpse of your burns in the mirror and remembered what you did to yourself. You’ve taken the rest of this semester off to recover—Fiddleford had insisted you take as much time as you needed, and when you voiced your concerns about disappointing your teachers, or worse, your father, he promised to make life hell for anyone who gave you a hard time about it—so thankfully, you don’t have to think about classes or assignments or too many people looking at you with disgust or pity. Thankfully, Stanley and Fiddleford never look at you like that, even though they do sometimes treat you like you’re made of glass.

And hell, maybe you are made of glass, or maybe you’re more like a broken ceramic object that’s being held together by elementary school arts-and-crafts glue, feeling like you’re liable to fall apart at a moment’s notice. Like when it finally sinks in that you’ll never regain sight in your left eye, or like when the doctors tell you the only thing they can do for your burns would be skin graft surgery that you know you’ll never be able to afford. You don’t know how you manage to keep all your pieces together a lot of the time, but you’re sure the two people beside you have something to do with it.

Medication is another challenge, and you go through several pills and alterations of dosage strengths and a hodgepodge of frustrating, life-disrupting side effects—ranging from insomnia to nausea and light-headedness to mood swings that at their worst manifest in an impulse to walk out into oncoming traffic and make you wish for the days where you barely felt anything again—before you finally find something that works for you. You start having more good days after that; days where you wake up at a regular hour and have an appetite and eat three square meals and brainstorm project ideas with Fiddleford and take walks around campus with Stanley and play games of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with both of them.

Distantly, you wonder if this is what “better” feels like. You think it is. You hope it stays.

***

Stanley stays. You never asked him to, but you never told him to leave either, so he stays. He gets a job washing windows, and you quietly worry about how he can do that with a fear of heights until he tells you that it’s mostly indoor work, and that he’ll gladly deal with being up on a 6-foot ladder a few times a week if they keep paying him like they do. With the money he makes he buys you hoodies and sweaters and scarves, all made out of soft material that doesn’t irritate your skin. He even buys you a pair of gloves, too. They’re custom-made and fit perfectly and are even your favorite color and you almost ask how much they cost because you know you don’t deserve things as nice as these right now, but Stanley stops you before you can say anything. He tells you he doesn’t like you covering up your scars, that you shouldn’t worry what people think, that they really don’t look that bad now that you’ve had time to heal, but also that he understands why you want to, and that he’d do anything to help you feel better, no matter how much it costs. You hug him as tight as you can, too choked up to form words. You hope he knows how thankful you are.

Stanley has scars, too. Some you can trace back to childhood incidents, but there are other, deeper scars on his arms and hands that you don’t remember and can’t explain away as easily. You don’t know how he got them, nor do you think you want to know. You don’t think he’d tell you the truth if you asked, anyway. At least they appear to be too randomly placed to be self-inflicted, though that thought doesn’t reassure you much. He doesn’t make any effort to hide them, though, and doesn’t seem to care when he catches you staring. It’s the scar you see when you accidentally walk in on him shirtless—the one that looks like what you can only imagine was once a bullet hole in his side, right under his ribcage—that he scrambles to cover. Despite the fact that you shared a room with him for most of your life and have naturally seen him shirtless before, you quickly excuse yourself, stumbling over awkward apologies, a wave of nausea and worry and guilt washing over you and making your knees buckle because someone shot your brother.

But he doesn’t talk about it, so neither do you.

He has nightmares, and you can’t help but wonder if they’re related to the cause (causes?) of his scars, but you don’t ask about them either, don’t say anything when you hear him wake up with a choked-off yell. Briefly, during your period of insomnia, his bad nights would coincide with your sleepless nights, and you’d both wind up sitting on the couch, watching TV at four in the morning, sometimes talking quietly or reminiscing about things from your childhood—the good things, mostly; safe topics that won’t start arguments. Usually, though, you’d just end up making fun of the weird programs on so late at night and trying to stifle your laughter so you don’t wake Fiddleford, until you both finally fall asleep.

***

Your mother calls once a week to check up on you. You appreciate the calls—and the fact that she never mentions your father—but you quickly realize that telling her too much about the ups and downs of your recovery makes her worry, so instead you fall into a routine of giving her the same basic, minimally-detailed rundown every time, regardless of how you’re actually doing: I’m feeling okay this week; the medication is helping; the burns are healing; I miss you too; yes, I’ve been eating well; yes, Stanley’s doing fine too, do you want to talk to him?

“I’m so glad you two are getting along again,” she says every week, sometimes with emotion making her voice waver.

You’re sure she says the same thing to Stanley, because he’ll pause in his own script with her—I’m doing great, Ma; I’ve been making some good money with this job; the car’s still running fine, just changed the oil this week; I miss you too; yes, I’ve been eating well—and his mouth will twitch into a small, almost hesitant smile, and he’ll reply, softly, “I’m glad too.”

But there’s a faint nervousness in his tone, like he’s caught in a lie he doesn’t quite believe, and you find you don’t know how to feel about it.

***

And you talk about Stanley in therapy, slowly but surely working on getting past your stubborn, lingering issues in 45-minute increments. Your therapist wants you to talk things out with him, and part of you agrees you should, but you don’t know what to say or how to bring it up or if it’s even worth bringing up. To your surprise, you find it’s incredibly easy to put the past out of your mind when Stanley’s doing everything in his power to be helpful. For the most part, your relationship with him has already started to repair itself surprisingly fast, even despite the years you’ve spent apart. Of course, there are still days where you have to struggle to not lash out and start arguments or let your bitter feelings consume you, because you really don’t want to stay angry at him but you just don’t know how to move on.

Would talking and dredging up old grievances really do anything to help?

You’re sitting on the couch late one night pondering this, the TV droning quietly in the background, when you hear Stanley shuffling around in the other room. Maybe he’s had another nightmare, you think, and he’ll come out and sit with you and you’ll be able to find some opening to start talking about what’s on your mind.

You hear Stanley come out, his deliberately soft footsteps coming up behind you, and you open your mouth to ask him to sit next to you, but when you turn to look at him the words die in your throat. Because he’s wearing his jacket and he’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he’s looking at the floor and not looking at you and something is wrong.

“Hey,” he says, awkwardly.

“…Hey,” you reply, weakly.

“So, uh, I’m.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m leaving.”

It takes a few seconds for the words to register and connect with the sight of the duffel bag, the same one his things were packed in the night he got kicked out, and you feel like your brain just short-circuited because this doesn’t make sense.

“What?” you finally ask, your mouth suddenly dry.

“I’m leaving,” he says. “Was gonna leave a note. Didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“Oh.” You blink up at him, eyes wide with shock and confusion. This is a dream, right? This has to be a dream, because there’s no way he would just leave—

Stanley shifts, looking uncomfortable, but your brain interprets the motion as him moving towards the door and you half-shout “Wait!” before you can stop yourself, making him freeze in place.

Only now you have no idea what else to say, so you fumble over your words trying to get your brain and mouth to cooperate. “I—Just… wait. Can… can you just. Sit down for a minute? We should… talk about this?”

“Um. Yeah, okay, I guess we probably should… talk.” Stanley drops his bag and sits at the other end of the couch. He rests his elbows on his knees and looks exceptionally tense and anxious, legs jittering like he’s about to bolt for the door any second.

Neither of you seem to know what to say at first, and a few moments pass in painfully awkward silence until Stanley finally speaks.

“I, uh, I lost my job,” he says quietly.

“Oh,” you say. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

You both fall silent again for another moment, before you force yourself to speak up.

“Is… Is that the only reason you’re leaving?” you ask. “Because you can always find another job. Fiddleford says there’s places hiring around here all the time. We can—”

“It’s not just that,” Stanley says, cutting you off. “It’s, well… you’re gonna be starting classes again soon, and it’ll probably be better if I’m not taking up space around here when you do. I’m sure Fidds’ll be glad I won’t be eating all his food anymore. And…” He looks away then, the end of that sentence sounding bitter but spoken too low for you to hear.

“What was that?”

“I said you probably don’t want me around anyway!” he says, loud enough to make you flinch, and then he’s on his feet, wringing his hands as he paces around the room. “I know I wouldn’t! Who’d want to live with the person who ruined their life? You wouldn’t even be at this school if it wasn’t for me. If I hadn’t broken your project, you’d be at the better school, the one you wanted. You’d’ve been happier there, and none of… this—” He makes a vague, all-encompassing hand gesture, his voice wobbling, “—would’ve happened.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You’re stunned speechless by the force of Stanley’s outburst. He’s upset, yes, that much you expected, but you thought he’d start an argument. You weren’t expecting to have none of his anger aimed at you, to see him direct all the blame to himself, and you don’t know how to react or how to calm him down.

Stanley looks at you, no doubt expecting some sort of response, but upon seeing your stupefied expression he just sighs, anger dissipating. He flops back down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding suddenly exhausted. “I made one stupid mistake and it screwed up both our lives and I regret it every day. I’d take it all back if I could, just so you could be happy. Having you live on the other side of the country would be better than having you hate me. And I know saying all this now probably doesn’t mean anything, but… I’m sorry.”

Slowly, his words chip away at the last bits of bitterness you hold in your heart. He made a mistake. He regrets it. He’s sorry. He wants you to be happy.

You believe him.

“It…” you start, finally finding your voice, “It means a lot, actually. And I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” he asks, sitting up straight and looking at you. The sheer disbelief in his voice sends a pang of guilt through your heart.

“No, Stanley, of course not,” you say, “I—I never hated you. I never wanted to hate you. I was just… angry. But I’m tired of being angry now; I’m tired of holding this grudge. And… I don’t want you to leave.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. “I didn’t realize at first, how much I missed you. But I did. Do, rather. I… I still miss you a lot. And I—Stan, are you… crying?”

“No,” Stanley says petulantly, looking away as he wipes his eyes. “Just—Just got some dust in my eye is all. It’s nothin’.”

You scoot down towards his end of the couch, wrap an arm around his shoulders, and pull him into a hug. He doesn’t resist it, hugging you back tightly.

“I miss you,” you say again.

“I-I miss you too,” he says. You feel your shoulder growing wet with tears.

“I want to help you,” you say. “You’ve done so much for me, even when I felt like I didn’t deserve it. So I want to do the same for you now. I’m sure Fiddleford does, too. We can help you apply for jobs or get your GED, and you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, or we can find you an apartment of your own if that’s what you’d prefer. Not that I’m forcing you to stay around here or anything if you don’t want to, I just…” You trail off, mind wandering to the ragged state Stanley was in when he showed up at the hospital every day, and how he never looked like he’d slept enough or showered, and how Fiddleford later told you that he had no idea where Stanley had been staying while you were in there, and how he has nightmares and so many scars that you can’t explain now. “I don’t want you to go back to whatever you were doing,” you say. “I don’t want you to disappear again. I want you to stay in my life. You’ve spent so much time helping me get better. I… I want us to get better now.”

“I… Okay,” Stanley says, nodding against your shoulder. “I'll—I’ll stay.”

“Good,” you say, pulling back from the hug. You’re both smiling, misty-eyed.

“So, uh, are we… okay now?” he asks, leaning back on the couch and turning his gaze to the TV infomercials that have still been playing all this time.

You relax next to him, close enough that your shoulders touch. “I think we still have some things we should talk about,” you say, cautiously, because even you have enough sense to know that not all of your problems will be solved by one brief heart-to-heart. “But we’re getting there. We’re better than before, at any rate.”

Stanley hums in agreement, and when you lapse into silence again, it’s peaceful, not awkward.

At least, until a familiar face shows up on your TV screen.

“Hi, I’m Steve Pinington! Are you sick of bandages that are hard to remove? Then what you need is the Rip Off!”

You turn to Stanley, eyebrow raised, your expression a cross between confused and amused. “Steve Pinington?”

“Um. Okay look, I uh, I couldn’t use my real name, alright?” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck as his face and ears turn red with embarrassment. “Anyway they’re not even supposed to be playing this anymore!”

“Please tell me that mustache is fake.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not.”

“Oh my god,” you say, unable to stop a laugh from bubbling out of you. “You looked like you glued a broom to your face! How on Earth is that thing real? You couldn’t even grow peach fuzz when we were teenagers!”

“Oh, can it, Poindexter!” Stanley grumbles with mock annoyance, shoving you playfully. You flop onto your side, couch cushions muffling your giggles as Stanley finally starts to laugh too, and for the first time in a long while, you think, and really truly believe—

It's gonna be okay.

[musicatheart12]

A Chat with a Bassist: Natalie Kim from Old Joy

Old Joy is an indie/alternative rock band that released their debut album on September 7th, 2018. They come from the underground New Brunswick scene and have played many basement shows around the area, with their most recent performance being for a student-run charity club at Rutgers University. This week, I got the chance to interview Old Joy's bassist, Natalie Kim, also a student at Rutgers University.

The interview:

What kind of music do you guys play?  How do you, as a band, characterize it?

It's kind of under the umbrella of Alt Rock and Indie just because we're in the local New Brunswick scene. So it's kind of like Indie, DIY kind of music.

How did the band get together?

So my two bandmates who started the band started it before I got to Rutgers. When I came here as a freshman, I met one of them, Phil, and he told me they were looking for a bassist so they kind of adopted me. And then we had no drummer, so we had to go out looking for a drummer. So yeah it started with those two people. The other two of us kind of made our way in.

How long has the band been together?

I joined at the very end of summer before freshman year, and back then we had a like a different drummer like every month.

That's interesting.

Yeah, it was kind of weird since I play bass. Bass and drum really have to work with each other so I would change what I played for like every person. It was kind of rocky to start with, but we found someone about 3 months in, who ended up staying for the rest of the next summer. So when we all decided we were in it for the long run, that's when we recorded our first album.

Wow, that's very cool. Yeah, but he decided to go back to school, so literally the day of our release party, we got a new drummer.

Oh wow! Fun fact, drummers are like the hardest people to find because if you're going to be a drummer, you have to be good because everyone can hear you. There was a really big shortage of drummers, and this is a problem that every band has.

I didn't know that.

So in this current state, we've been together about 2 months.

So even though the current band is fairly new, are you guys still playing songs from the first album?

Our new drummer, he didn't make his parts, he had to learn it. But obviously, from now on, it's going to be him.

Are you guys going to make any new music?

We've started making some new stuff, but we're probably going to record, I don't know, not for a while.

That makes sense.

Maybe sometime next year. But it's also a lot different, because the two members that started the band found me after everything was already written so like, in this case, it's everyone. It's more democratic in the way we're making music. It's like everyone is developing it together, rather than it being the work of two people.

So, I know you're a full-time student. It must be difficult to find time to practice.

It's f***ing hard. The good thing with my band is, they're really good at planning ahead. We'll set up a date for a rehearsal a week or two weeks in advance, I'm so grateful. The worst is definitely when we're recording an album. It was so hard last winter. I'd have to go down to the recording studio like twice a week, and it's like an hour away, so like what I ended up doing is bringing my homework and doing it in a dark lit basement. It was hard work, but it definitely paid off because now it's just basement shows and events, which are just a weekend sort of thing. Sticking it through recording was definitely a good idea.

Were you taught music/playing or writing? Are you self-taught?

Kind of, so like, I think I developed an ear for music growing up from piano lessons as a kid. Even though that only went up until like fifth grade, that's what taught me how to read music. And then through middle school, I played French horn, I played flute.  And when I got into high school, that’s when I picked up bass and I really should've taken lessons then. I regret not taking lessons when I had the time to when I was like 14. I kind of just learned bass by ear. And the internet's fantastic.

I have other questions, but I'm trying to think of a question based on what you just said.

I mean I can keep talking if you want.

Yeah, go for it if you want!

I mean, here's the thing about bass, so like I've had my friends ask me to teach them before. A lot of people have this conception that "oh I have to start the same way I learned piano" with all the scales and fundamentals, but I think for bass it's heavy on intuition. Of course, you'll be a better musician if you know all the techniques and fundamentals but like you cannot be a bassist if you do not have some kind of musical intuition. Like over the first year I picked it up, by the end of the year, I listened to music differently. I never noticed bass parts before I started playing. And then once it like really clicks you start to listen for it, and that eventually grows into the intuition. Especially playing in a band versus an orchestra. I play in an orchestra every year, and it's much more technical. Playing in the underground music scene, its more about what sounds good, what works versus what doesn’t work.

So it's more about understanding the vibe?

Yeah, kind of. It's like what people say about writing, how you can't be a good writer unless you read a lot, it's the same way. You have to listen to a lot of music to be able to play well.

Do you guys ever spend time experimenting with different kinds of music, or do you stick to the same kind of genre?

Right now, most of our rehearsals are geared toward preparing for shows. But in terms of being experimental, I'd say there are 2 parts to that. Number one, there's a lot of cover songs. We'll just like jam sometimes and go off of each other and play whatever. But also we're like trying to be different for our second album… now that we're trying to follow up to our first album, we're trying to be more advanced in terms of adding more atmospheric sounds and big picture stuff. We're going to add some synth, maybe some more keyboard stuff. I think like in terms of experimenting, I'd like to do it more, but we're not going in the wrong direction.

I know Old Joy plays a lot of basement shows. What other kinds of gigs do you guys play?

Just last Friday we performed at the student center for the Seeing Eye club, I forget exactly what the event was called. Yeah so we did that, it was a fundraiser. And in a month we're going to be doing Overnight Sensations which is like a program run by WRSU, which is a Rutgers radio station. So every week they have bands come late at night. We've also done a lot of other charity shows.

And as far as setlist goes, do you have a specific order you play in?

Our album is 7, 8 songs. There are some songs that we all love, and some that we all don't want to play. So we'll play 4 to 5 songs and we'll do like one cover.

So it's short.

Yeah, it's usually like a half hour set. Also a lot of these songs, we recorded them in the winter so almost a year ago. Now that we're more mature musicians it's kind of like, I wish we recorded this differently or played this differently.

Do you guys tease new music in your shows?

Yeah we played a new song at our last show, which was last Friday… but yeah definitely.

Do you need to think about the audience, or do you just do you (as a band)?

It depends. We don't have very many songs yet, so there's a skeleton that we have to follow. It's usually the cover that we'll very. And then the other thing we'll mix up is the order. Sometimes it’s the energetic songs first if everyone seems dead. The hardest part is definitely when everyone's like "one more song!" and we don't have any more song.

What's your response to that? Do you guys play a song from the album that you wouldn't normally play?

We'll play another cover song, we have stuff that we kind of keep in the back in case we need it. But I wish we had more stuff.

How does recording working?

So basically what happens is, first everyone plays, to get a scratch track for timing purposes. Then everyone will go in on their own and we'll put it into the computer and do it as many times as it takes to get it right. It can take forever sometimes. And so the way we did this album was each time we went down there, we'd record one song. It took a while, but it turned out ok. The recording was less than half. The rest of the time was just mixing and then sending it out to get it mastered. Honestly, I'm not a fan of recording because sometimes I can get really perfectionistic. That’s why I really like playing basement shows. I don’t think I've ever played the same song the same way twice. Like this kind of goes back to the experimental thing. Thank god we play live shows because that's where you get to be creative as a musician.

How did you guys come up with the order of the album?

It's weird, I don’t think we discussed the whys of it. We all kind of came to a consensus. It might be a little bit subconscious, and it kind of goes back to the intuition of it. There might be some legitimate reason to it, like songs being in the same key. From what I can observe, I think the biggest things are tempo and mood. As an Alt rock, indie almost emo band, there are energetic happy songs like typical Alt Rock songs, but there are also songs that are really emotional. Like we have this one song "Rover Shore". Watching Phil do the vocals for that was literally spiritual. Like I've never seen anyone put so much emotion into one song. So obviously you wouldn't put that first. We put that sort of in the middle near the end. We never discussed the explicit details, it just flows somehow.

Yeah, it just feels right.

Do you guys plan on making music videos?

We filmed a music video last year, but because we switched drummers, we had to scratch all of that. I really wanted to because one of the girls in the band is a film major. It's definitely possible, the only issue is we all have no time. 3 of us are students, and one graduated but he has a full-time job. Yeah, the biggest issue is definitely time. I understand why some bands buy a house and live together like it definitely makes sense.

Do you have any other interesting stories? Anything cool!

The most exciting moment of being in this band was this Friday. We were at a house for a show and me and my bandmate we were just walking from one side of the room to the other, and we heard a group of people talking and they said Old Joy. It was the coolest thing 'cause it was like people actually know us. That was so exciting even though it was such a small thing because people actually recognize us. Like last week someone was at work and they said some of our music was on the radio. It was really cool!

What's weird is that the style of music that we play is not my style.

So what is your style?

I've never really gotten into indie music, but I figured I'd try it out. When I play on my own, I play a lot of Jazz and Funk. So this is very very very different. And this type of music isn't what I listen to but it's so interesting because the number of things you can do on bass is infinite. I do appreciate it, it's definitely grown on me. Before, all indie music sounded the same. Like to the average person, all classical music sounded the same. It's cool that I've learned so much through this.

Does it make it hard, not having listened to indie music beforehand?

When I first started, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was sticking to the root notes, keeping time. Super simple. By the time recording rolled around, I got the hang of it enough to create my own tracks, but looking back on it now, I would do things 100% differently.  

Natalie Kim is a talented young artist making her way through with her bandmates. With the first album already out, and another in the works, Old Joy is already paving their path into music. It's cool to see the beginning of a band that is transforming into something bigger, especially coming out of a local music scene.

Check out some of their songs: