#someone said it’s music so the lyrics should be secondary

[the-chelseahotel]

We were having this debate yesterday at a family party and now I’m curious

[jerzwriter]

Take Me to Church Part 1 of 2

(Because my delirious ass accidentally hit stop for a second)

True Hozier devotees, of which I am proudly one, often have a touch of disdain for this song. It's not that they don’t love it; in many cases, it’s what introduced them to his music. However, since the majority of people never scratch beyond the surface of what Top 40 radio feeds them, this is often the only Hozier song they know. To them, he's the ”Take Me to Church Guy”. And (rightfully so) it pisses fans off because he is SO much more than that.

But recently, someone who adores him as much as I do, said “But he IS the Take Me to Church guy. Have you ever seen him perform it live? Have you ever experienced the passion he puts into this song every single time he plays it? Have you ever listened to the lyrics and really heard what he is saying? Have you ever watched the video and not had it take your breath away? There are much worse things he could be called the Take Me to Church guy.”

They are so right. This is a song that, for many, was transformative. it opened eyes; it opened hearts. I know people who finally found the courage to come out after they heard this song a decade ago, and it’s every bit as relevant today as it was then. It’s a rebuke of the Catholic Church, specifically for hoarding wealth while preaching about taking care of the poor (What you got in the stables? We've a lot of starving faithful.), and most visibly, it’s anti-LGBTQ positions. It is beautiful. It is an anthem. It is fucking Hozier’s Take Me to Church.

My umpteenth disclosure. This is not the best recording you’ll ever ever see. Not great seats, not a great phone, and recording was secondary to me living in that precious moment; but, this is what it’s like standing in the crowd, screaming every single word out on the top of your lungs along with him and thousands of your friends in attendance. It is a freaking spiritual experience. Everyone should experience it at least once. It's fucking Hozier's Take Me to Church.

Part 2 ... Hozier wishing us a Happy Pride felt like more of a blessing than anything I ever experienced in any house of worship. Just saying.

[diceydeals]

Hearing and History

12th April 2023

So, I recently found out that my level of hearing is a lot lower than I thought it was and probably always has been.

What does this mean? Basically I probably would've benefited from hearing aids and learning sign language as a child rather than relying on self-taught lip-reading, guesswork, and asking people to repeat themselves/be patient.

Let me tell you, people are not always good at being patient.

I have very mixed feelings about this. Listening is very tiring, and I have always said this! I couldn't do mental maths questions because they were on a tape recording. Ditto language listening and oral exams, which I kept failing at school. French was nearly impossible for me because I cannot hear the words or make sense of the month movements. Thank gd for Spanish!

I didn't have a hearing test until I was in secondary school. That policy has changed now in the NHS so hearing loss is picked up very soon after birth. Basically, there were a bunch of points in my life when someone could have intervened to give me the tools to navigate the world rather than just let me figure it out.

I am not part of the Deaf community. I don't know anybody my age who is hard of hearing or deaf. My family thought it was 'normal' because my mum, her sister, and my grandad all have hearing loss. I was teased for being deaf while simultaneously nobody taking the implications of my deafness seriously. It was a lose-lose situation. Essentially, it wasn't that I wasn't deaf enough, it was that it didn't effect me obviously enough for anyone to do anything.

Now I have hearing aids, I can hear music, I can hear lyrics. I can hear (although not focus on) multiple conversations. Birds are insanely fucking loud. Projectors and air-conditioning drive me up the wall. My tinnitus is definitely worse, but that may also be a side effect of long covid (apparently that's a thing). It's a wild experience that I'm still getting used to, a year later.

I would still love to learn sign language. But now's not a great time: I'm tired, working and studying full-time, recovering from covid, and generally have shit going on. British Sign Language lessons are expensive in person, but learning online is something I'd rather avoid as I can't concentrate easily. This means more travel, more money, more time, more energy. This means I have to wait.

I wish I could've had the chance to learn when I was first diagnosed.

TLDR; just because you can work to the point of exhaustion to fit the needs of the world, doesn't mean you should have to! You deserve accommodations. The world needs to bend so that people don't break.

[alexafaie-asd]

What ages are we talking about for high school? Here in the UK we have primary school and secondary school, with secondary school starting at age 11 (up to 17/18 if you stay on for 6th form). What I listened to at 11 was vastly different to what I listened to by the time I was 15, and that changed further the closer I got to 17 (I didn't turn 18 until after I left school).

At 11 I was still recovering from Spice Girls. Still liked Take That even though they had split up & then Robbie Williams' solo stuff. Other than that I hated the vast majority of pop music being released.

I spent a year just not really listening to anything much other than one album due to just hating everything else. But still absolutely convinced that I hated "loud shouty raaaaaahhhhh" kind of music.

Year 9 I discovered Sum41 & a friend gave me a CD with System of a Down's Steal This Album plus some other tracks from other albums burned on it until it ran out of space. Also the year that in English class another friend was supposed to recite a poem they liked and so they read out the lyrics of Her Ghost In The Fog by Cradle of Filth. They got me to listen to the song whilst reading the lyrics when we were on the train to school to help decide if they should cut out the bit where the woman gets raped by the clergy given we went to a church school. I think I encouraged them to leave it in. Lol Anyway I thought I didn't like it but got the tune stuck in my head & so said friend ended up recording me a copy of that album (Midian) and later another couple of Cradle of Filth's albums/EPs onto cassette tape because I still used my walkman & they didn't have a PC at home to burn a CD for me.

So it was mostly Cradle of Filth for a few years.

In 6th form (so age 16-17) my taste were widened thanks to the mix-minidisc another friend made me featuring a variety of metal/heavy rock bands from Black Sabbath, Alice Cooper & Iron Maiden to Nightwish, Children of Bodom & PowerQuest (and many more!). She also made me copies of some Sonata Arctica albums and so those years I mostly listened to Nightwish & Sonata Arctica.

On my own I added HIM and bit of a Guilty Pleasure was The Rasmus. And mustn't forget LORDI (this was before their Eurovision win) I also found the website metalstorm.ee (now metalstorm.net) which has metal bands sorted in so many different ways. My fave thing was you could look at a band & it would, based on user votes, list other bands which were similar which you might also like. You coukd search by genre & country and all sorts. Fantastic place to discover new music. Its where I learned that I am particularly fond of Finnish metal bands. Even today I will randomly check the list of Finnish metal bands and find that one of my latest faves that Spotify has recommended to me is actually a Finnish band & I'm like "oh of course they are".

So by final year I think the top 5 most listened would have to be Sonata Arctica, Children of Bodom (particularly good for walking fast to avoid missing the train, it would take me the first 3 songs of Hatebreeder to walk from home to the train station, the 4th would be starting as I got there), Nightwish, Cradle of Filth, and HIM. My method of listening was primarily to listen to one album on repeat for weeks/months for maximum dopamine extraction. Then it became time of day dependent.

Super not sorry that they aren't popular mainstream bands, but popular mainstream bands started sucking majorly in the late 90s and never recovered. From what little I've ended up hearing when someone else has mainstream radio on. I grew up as a young child on stuff from 60s, 70s & 80s, my Mum particularly loved Northern Soul & Motown so that to me was good music, we lost a lot of that in the 90s. Most modern mainstream music is so lacking in instrumentation and soul behind the music. It feels cookie cutter & meant to appeal to the kind of people who think a blank white rectangle with a logo is a fashion statement instead of soul sucking capitalist greed. But I digress...

mine would probs be: one direction, taylor swift, ed sheeran, the script and coldplay 

[joyokosuka]

 Are you ready for some Deep Sam Flam lore?

...Well, kind of?

I have started a project to compile as many Samurai Flamenco quotes as possible and put them in a Twitter text bot.  This is partially for my own amusement, but also so I can collect Samurai Flamenco translations and put it in the attached linktree for cohesiveness.  I am starting with quotes from the anime, which includes song lyrics.

...So, I came to a bit of a conundrum when I got to episode 4, Idol Devastation, and Mari blasted a song out of her hummer.  Turns out that it is not an original song, but I made an Executive Decision to put it in the bot regardless.  Except there’s no English translation.  And Japanese lyric websites don’t have it properly transcribed.  And it turns out that it requires hours and hours of research to properly decipher all of its religious references.

If you would like to just know the lyrics to the song, they are as follows:

Tera Zukkyun!  Ai no Ryouhouji!

Before our love ripens, we’ll have an eternal sleep!  Ryoyhou Temple!

Anye manye mane mamane cite carite shame

Shamitavi shamte mukte

It’s a miracle!  Ryouhou Temple!

The shintai will help you, shining halo guidepost

Leave the prayers to me; the mutual love of one hundred shrine visits

Lotus Sutra, Chishaku, bodhisattva Manjushri, bhava!

This sutra is profound, complex, subtle, and treasured; worship!

You’re troubled, aren’t you? (Mt. Fuji kamikaze)

You’re in agony, aren’t you, aren’t you? (Shuriken tempura)

Right now, come come come take shelter (Unruly bonze)

Brain fragmentation

Temple buh-bam!  Temple buh-bam!

The Ryouhou Temple of love love love love love!

Singing and studying and dancing love will fulfill you

The love love love love love of Hachiouji!

Your hypermutation!  Ecstasy!  Embrace sukhavati!

Syrupy Tro-Benten!

Sold lots tower over the cemetery’s shining headstone

We’ll give a warm welcome to even the most inexperienced

Bhava, bhava, sattva, sadhana, devote yourself to this sutra to attain bodhi!

Manjushri said the daughter of the dragon king Sagara did this year!

You’re anxious, aren’t you? (Pervert tsundere)

You’re forlorn, aren’t you aren’t you? (Tiny boobs, fatty cut sushi)

Right now, come come come take shelter (Nipples, decapitation)

Entering nirvana, reincarnation

Temple buh-bam!  Temple buh-bam!

The Ryouhou Temple of love love love love love!

With my sparkling sadhana, attaining enlightenment, I’ll come into moksha!

The love love love love love of Hachiouji!

Your hypermutation!  Ecstasy!  Embrace sukhavati!

Syrupy Tro-Benten!

Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Innate prajna! (Love!)

Factor of life: form, factor of life: nature, factor of life: embodiment, factor of life: potency

Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Innate prajna! (Love!)

Factor of life: function, factor of life: primary cause, factor of life: secondary cause, factor of life: effect

Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Innate prajna! (Love!)

Factor of life: recompense, factor of life: recompense, factor of life: recompense, factor of life: recompense

Factor of recompense, factor of recompense, factor of complete fundamental whole

The Ryouhou Temple of love love love love love!

Singing and studying and dancing love will fulfill you

The love love love love love of Hachiouji!

Your hypermutation!  Ecstasy!  Embrace sukhavati!

Syrupy Tro-Benten!

Temple buh-bam!  Temple buh-bam!

You’ll fall in love!  Ryouhou Temple!

However, if you want a big deep dive on the lyrics, here it is:

This is the theme song for Ryouhou Temple, a Buddhist temple in western Tokyo.  The temple is notable for being...moe, to the degree that it’s nicknamed moeji (moe temple).  The reason for this is that it features a moe-fied version of Benzaiten.  Benzaiten is a Buddhist goddess, often shown with a biwa.

She is the Japanese version of Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of music and wisdom.

The moe version of which is Tro-Benten.

This video is a pretty good summary of the surreal nature of Ryouhouji.  With that out of the way, here’s a breakdown.

恋の実ったその先は二人で永眠！了法寺ー！

Koi no minotta sono saki wa futari de eimin!  Ryouhouji!

Before our love ripens, we’ll have an eternal sleep!  Ryouhou Temple!

“Eternal sleep” or “eimin” here is actually a phrase in Christianity, especially the Orthodox Church.  It is a euphemism for death in the Bible.

安爾 曼爾 摩禰 摩摩禰 旨隷 遮梨第 貝余

Ani mani mane mamane shire sharite shamya

Anye manye mane mamane cite carite shame

This is sanskrit, and each of these words is a spell.  Technically, each kanji character has meaning, but they serve more of a phonetic sense than a semantic one.  Here is the meaning of each of these spells (per this link)

Anye: mysterious

Manye: pondering

Mane: mindfulness

Mamane: serenity in mind

Cite: eternity

Carite: religious practice

Shame: tranquility

貝余履 多王韋 羶帝 目帝

Shabi tai sentei mokutei

Shamitavi shamte mukte

Shamitavi: non-attachment

Shamte: inexpressibly serene silence

Mukte: emancipation

ご利益あります！了法寺！

Goryaku arimasu!  Ryouhouji!

It’s a miracle!  Ryouhou Temple!

お助けします御神体輝く後光の道しるべ

Otasuke shimasu goshintai kagayaku gokou no michishirube

The shintai will help you, shining halo guidepost

A shintai is a physical object worshipped at temples that has a spirit in it.

They can have a lot of different forms; here is an example:

However, this is the shintai at Ryouhouji:

恋の願いはお任せよお百度参りで両思い

Koi no negai wa omakase yo ohyaku domairi de ryouomoi

Leave the prayers to me; the mutual love of one hundred shrine visits

Hyakudomairi, or one hundred shrine visits, is a practice in Shinto.  It’s what it sounds like - visiting a shrine to pray one hundred times.

妙 法華経 智積 菩薩 問文殊 師利言 有!

Myou hougekyou chishaku bosatsu monmonju shirigon u!

Lotus Sutra, Chishaku, bodhisattva Manjushri, bhava!

In general, sutras are canonical scriptures within Buddhism.  Buddhism has two main branches - Mahayana and Theravada.  Mahayana Buddhism is popular in East Asia, and the Lotus Sutra is one of the most influential texts within that branch.  More specifically, it is used for the Nichiren and Tendai sects of Buddhism.  Here is a link with a basic breakdown of the concept.

Chishaku(-in) is a Buddhist temple in Kyoto.  It is the headquarters of Chisan-ha sect of Shingon Buddhism.  That is a sub-section of Vajrayana Buddhism, spread from India to East Asia.  In turn, Vajrayana is part of Mahayana Buddhism.

The person for whom the temple was named, Chishaku, is also known as Wisdom Accumulated.  He is the oldest son of Great Universal Wisdom Excellence Buddha.

A bodhisattva is someone who is on the path to Buddhahood.

Manjushri is a bodhisattva associated with prajna (wisdom) in Mahayana Buddhism.

Bhava is a term meaning earthly tendencies, birth, and production.  Bhava is one of the twelve links of Pratityasamutpada, originally taught by Great Universal Wisdom Excellence.  Pratityasamutpada is a key doctrine within Buddhism which emphasizes the connectiveness of all phenomena (dharma).

此経 甚 深 微��� 諸経 中 宝 世所 希有 拝!

Shigyou jinjin mimyou shochou chuu hou sesho keu hai!

This sutra is profound, complex, subtle, and treasured; worship!

This is a reference to Chapter 12 of the Lotus Sutra, in which Chishaku asks Manjushri if one can quickly obtain Buddhahood through practicing the Lotus Sutra.

悩んでいるのでしょう（フジヤマ　カミカゼ）

Nayande iru no deshou (fujiyama kamikaze)

You’re troubled, aren’t you? (Mt. Fuji kamikaze)

English-speakers probably know kamikaze in terms of World War II.  However, it is also a reference to a typhoon thought to protect Japan from a Mongolian invasion in the 13th century.

...As a side note, the bits in parentheses are sung in an American accent.  Make of that what you will.

悶えているのでしょでしょ（シュリケン　テンプラ）

Modaete iru no desho desho (shuriken tenpura)

You’re in agony, aren’t you, aren’t you? (Shuriken tempura)

Shuriken is a fairly well-known term, but it is a star-shaped concealed weapon.

Tempura is a popular Japanese dish of meat or vegetables fried in batter (would recommend).

今すぐ来て来て来て駆け込んで（ボウズ　ノホウズ）

Ima sugu kite kite kite kakekonde (bouzu nohouzu)

Right now, come come come take shelter (Unruly bonze)

A bonze is a Japanese or Chinese Buddhist monk.  In common speech, you’ll often hear “bouzu” as a casual way to refer to boys.  This is a reference to the word “bonze.”

脳みそフラグメンテーション

noumiso furagumenteeshon

Brain fragmentation

テラズッキュン寺ズッキュン

Tera zukkyun tera zukkyun

Temple buh-bam!  Temple buh-bam!

Tera means temple.  The first tera in this is in katakana, and the second is in kanji.  I translated them the same, but the first tera may mean the prefix tera-.  Terabyte is an example; you could see this line as a SUPER zukkyun.

Zukkyun is a sound effect for gun shots, like “pew pew,” “bang bang,” etc.  However, it also is used as a sound effect for rapidly falling in love with something.  You can think about it similarly to how one is shot with Cupid’s arrow.  Zukkyun can be a sound effect for actual romantic love, or just casual internet talk for indicating you really like something.

愛の愛の愛の愛の愛の了法寺！

Ai no ai no ai no ai no ai no ryouhouji!

The Ryouhou Temple of love love love love love!

歌って学んで踊って恋が成就します

Uttate manande odotte koi ga jouju shimasu

Singing and studying and dancing love will fulfill you

愛の愛の愛の愛の八王子！

Ai no ai no ai no ai no hachiouji!

The love love love love love of Hachiouji!

Hachiouji is where Ryouhouji is located, in West Tokyo.

you超変！有頂天！朴楽抱きしめてね

You chouhen!  Uchouten!  Gokuraku dakishimete ne

Your hypermutation!  Ecstasy!  Embrace sukhavati!

This is a reference to Pure Land Buddhism, or Amidism, which is a branch of Mahayana Buddhism.  Amitabha is the principal Buddha of this, and the basic idea is that the world is corrupt, so people should wish to be reborn in the Pure Land instead.  Sukhavati is the western part of the Pure Land.

とろとろとろ弁天！

Torotoro torobenten!

Syrupy Tro-Benten!

分譲しますぼっち墓地輝く墓石そびえ立つ

Bunjou shimasu bocchi bochi kagayaku boseki sobietatsu

Sold lots tower over the cemetery’s shining headstone

未経験者も大歓迎お一人様でもお気軽に

Mikeikensha mo daikangei ohitorisama demo okigaru ni

We’ll give a warm welcome to even the most inexperienced

頗有頗有衆生 勤加精進 修行 此経 速得仏不

Hau hau shuujou gonka shoujin shugyou shigyou sokutoku bubbu

Bhava, bhava, sattva, sadhana, devote yourself to this sutra to attain bodhi!

In Samkhya, one of the six schools of Hindu philosophy, sattva is one of three gunas.  Gunas are the modes of existence (traits) that one may have, and sattva means the quality of balance.  It is connected with purity, and serenity.

Sadhana is essentially a disciplined ritual used to obtain one’s goals.  The classic trope of standing under a waterfall is an example of Japanese Buddhist sadhana.

Bodhi essentially means “awakening,” often in reference to enlightenment.

文殊 師利 言言有有 裟 竭 羅龍王 女 年始

Monju shiri gongon uu shakatsura ryuu ounyo nenshi

Manjushri said the daughter of the dragon king Sagara did this year!

This is another reference to Chapter 12 of the Lotus Sutra.  When Wisdom Accumulated/Chishaku asks if someone can attain Buddhahood through studying the Lotus Sutra, Manjushri mentions that the dragon princess already has.

不安があるのでしょう（ヘンタイ　ツンデレ）

Fuan ga aru no deshou (hentai tsundere)

You’re anxious, aren’t you? (Pervert tsundere)

Anime fans probably know this, but tsundere is a portmanteau of tsun tsun, and dere dere.  Tsun tsun is basically standoffishness, and dere dere is having a sweet demeanor.  A tsundere is a character/person that blends these traits in some way.  They are usually either sweet, but become irritable, or irritable by default, then become sweet under some circumstances.

(Hidenori “It’s Not Like I’ll Marry You Or Anything B-baka!” Goto is a tsundere.)

心細いのでしょでしょ（ヒンニュウ　スシトロ）

Kokorobosoi no desho desho (hinnyuu sushitoro)

You’re forlorn, aren’t you aren’t you? (Tiny boobs, fatty cut sushi)

今すぐ来て来て来て駆け込んで（チクビ　ウチクビ）

Ima sugu kite kite kite kakekonde (chikubi uchikubi)

Right now, come come come take shelter (Nipples, decapitation)

成仏リインカーネーション

Joubutsu riinkaaneeshon

Entering nirvana, reincarnation

Nirvana is a concept in Buddhism (and other Indian religions) that means the release from reincarnation.  It is the ultimate goal for salvation.

テラズッキュン寺ズッキュン

Tera zukkyun tera zukkyun

Temple buh-bam!  Temple buh-bam!

愛の愛の愛の愛の愛の了法寺！

Ai no ai no ai no ai no ai no ryouhouji!

The Ryouhou Temple of love love love love love!

修行でピカって悟って解脱しちゃいます

Shugyou de pikatte satotte gedatsu shichaimasu

With my sparkling sadhana, attaining enlightenment, I’ll come into moksha!

Moksha is the release from reincarnation.  The difference between this and nirvana vary by religion and branch.

愛の愛の愛の愛の八王子！

Ai no ai no ai no ai no hachiouji!

The love love love love love of Hachiouji!

you超変！有頂天！極楽抱きしめてね

You chouhen!  Uchouten!  Gokuraku dakishimete ne

Your hypermutation!  Ecstasy!  Embrace sukhavati!

とろとろとろ弁天！

Torotoro torobenten!

Syrupy Tro-Benten!

八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 智慧利根！（愛！）

Hassai! (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)   Chie rikon!  (Ai!)

Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Innate prajna!  (Love!)

“Eight years” is a reference to the fact that Sagara’s daughter was only eight when she attained Buddhahood.

如如是相 如如是性 如如是体 如如是力

Nyonyozesou nyonyozeshou nyonyozetai nyonyozerisa

Factor of life: form, factor of life: nature, factor of life: embodiment, factor of life: potency

This is a reference to the Buddhism Ten Factors of Life.  Interestingly, these factors were not originally in the Sanskrit text.  They were added by the translator, Kumaraju, in the 5th century.

八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 智慧利根！（愛！）

Hassai! (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)   Chie rikon!  (Ai!)

Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Innate prajna!  (Love!)

如如是作 如如是因 如如是縁 如如是果

nyonyozesa nyonyozein nyonyozeen nyonyozeka

Factor of life: function, factor of life: primary cause, factor of life: secondary cause, factor of life: effect

八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 智慧利根！（愛！）

Hassai! (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)   Chie rikon!  (Ai!)

Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Innate prajna! (Love!)

如如是報 如如是報 如如是報 如如是報

nyonyozehou nyonyozehou nyonyozehou nyonyozehou

Factor of life: recompense, factor of life: recompense, factor of life: recompense, factor of life: recompense

八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 八歳！（八歳！） 智慧利根！（愛！）

Hassai! (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)  Hassai!  (Hassai!)   Chie rikon!  (Ai!)

Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Eight years!  (Eight years!)  Innate prajna! (Love!)

如如報如 如あ如報 如如是本末究竟等

nyonyohounyo nyoanyohou nyonyoze honmatsukukyoutou

Factor of recompense, factor of recompense, factor of complete fundamental whole

愛の愛の愛の愛の愛の了法寺！

Ai no ai no ai no ai no ai no ryouhouji!

The Ryouhou Temple of love love love love love!

歌って学んで踊って恋が成就します

Utatte manande odotte koi ga jouju shimasu

Singing and studying and dancing love will fulfill you

愛の愛の愛の愛の八王子！

Ai no ai no ai no ai no hachiouji!

The love love love love love of Hachiouji!

you超変！有頂天！極楽抱きしめてね

You chouhen!  Uchouten!  Gokuraku dakishimete ne

Your hypermutation!  Ecstasy!  Embrace sukhavati!

とろとろとろ弁天！

Torotoro torobenten!

Syrupy Tro-Benten!

テラズッキュン寺ズッキュン

Tera zukkyun tera zukkyun

Templue buh-bam!  Temple buh-bam!

恋ズッキュン了法寺！

Koi zukkyun ryouhouji!

You’ll fall in love!  Ryouhou Temple!

....So, why the hell is this in Samflam?

Good question!  I can only give some educated guesses.

1. Its chaotic, yet cute nature fits Mari well.  I mean...what line better describes her than “chikubi uchikubi”?

2. The repetition of ai no ai no ai works well when compared to the 2nd OP of SamFlam, Ai Ai Ai.  In fact, the ai no ai no ai no part is really the only part that appears in SamFlam itself.  It could be coincidence, as “love” is a really common word in moe songs, but it is interesting.

3. Might be a stretch, but the song itself is about the juxtaposition between old traditions and modern pop culture.  This fits well with a lot of SamFlam’s themes of growing up.  Additionally, Masayoshi’s whole shtick is about combining old traditions (his Japanese samurai and Spanish flamenco dancer ancestors) and applying it to...tokusatsu.

I really appreciate if you’ve read this far - I can’t begin to describe the amount of work that went into this.  I hope to translate more SamFlam stuff in the future, so stay tuned!

[the-river-person]

End of Days

It was growing colder. Snowdin was unlivable now, the weather was no longer a snowstorm, but simply frozen and dark. There were parts of Waterfall that still had water, but it was all still, the falls no longer cascaded from above, having dried up or frozen solid in ice. Closer the chill crept. It had long since taken Home and New Home, Waterfall and the Depths below the Lower City on the Cliffs, and the Snowdin Caverns had been the very first place to fall. Hotland alone was still warm. But the magma had cooled and solidified on the surface of their burning lakes, leaving only what lay deep beneath. It was there the Monsters huddled. The Fire-Monsters at their center, those most susceptible to the cold. The darkness was oppressive, and only the light of these monsters, and their tiny heat, was keeping everything at bay. Keeping the darkness from falling. They’d searched for Sans and for Gaster, but there was no sign of them, they were gone. They searched every journal and book and file they could find in hopes of finding anything that could call the Ship back or open another Rift to the Void, but they found nothing that would help them. A day went by, exactly as it always had. And then another. And another after that. But the days were numbered. Three weeks before a Reset. And the first had been nearly over. Sixteen days. Sixteen days was all they had left. Fifteen days. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Asgore spoke to the crowd outside the castle in New Home, telling them of the strange pall of darkness that always fell if they waited too long after the three weeks to Reset. No stars, no water, not even the garbage that fell endlessly from the falls, piling up into the Dump. It all just... stopped. And from what he could tell, the outside was cold. If one stood near the barrier, just as the time limit ran out on Tripplenight, when everyone was celebrating and holding feasts and parties, one could see glittering frost coating the rock outside, lit only by the barrier’s light. Eleven days. Toriel suggested a night to spend reading and playing and telling jokes. Everyone came. But they couldn’t bring themselves to tell any jokes, or read anything, or play. The Queen tried to read some old Monster Tales to them, but she could hardly get through the story where the Destined Heroes of Light fall into a Kingdom of Darkness and meet a lonely Prince of the Dark. And when she reached the part where the Hero tore out his very soul in despair and rage, she broke off, unable to continue. Ten Days. Nine days. Eight Days. The Core was unfixable. Alphys had everything she could ask for, the willing help of any Monster she could possibly turn to. But the explosion that resulted from its meltdown had been so hot that it melted much of the machinery and blasted other sections to fragments of metal. She was unable even to figure out why it had reacted so violently in the first place. It had been maintained until the last moment, when the engineers had headed out to evacuate. It should have been fine. What did it matter? Should have been, would have been, could have been. They couldn’t fix it, so how it got destroyed didn’t matter. Seven Days. Six Days. Five Days. Tempers running high, Undyne destroyed her own house, leaving it flaming and stuck with spears. She said she couldn’t stand being alone there. She and Alphys have taken to wandering Waterfall, speaking in low tones and sharing kisses in the soft blue light of the waters and echo flowers. Four Days. Snowdrake, Lesser Dog, and Heats Flamesman had a breakdown. Asgore found them at the Barrier in New Home, beating on the magical wall with their firsts, bodies, wings, and claws. They screamed and screamed, calling out for someone to hear them. For someone to come. They didn’t want to go with Asgore, didn’t want to go. They wanted to someone to come. Anyone. Just let them out. But nobody came. Three days. Gerson had woken a little during the evacuations, sensing that something had changed. In the terror of the moment he’d woken all the way. Now he was sinking back into despair, becoming harder and harder to speak to, to wake, to communicate with at all. Two days. Monsters want to know what will happen to them. Want to know if help is coming. If someone is coming. If they can call someone to come save them. The ship, Sans, Gaster, anyone. No one can answer their questions. Asgore and Toriel look grim, and Alphys is pale. Never had any seen Undyne cry, tears running silently down her face, her expression never wavering, her stoic stance as strong as ever. Only Gerson could really remember the last time he’d seen tears from her, and that had been when she was very small. One day. Dread. The waiting is the worst thing. Knowing you cannot prevent what is coming, and you are afraid. Mettaton had tried desperately to bring some last bit of laughter to them, but the robotic body is running out of power, and without being able to charge, since the Core was the source of the Underground’s power, they had to shut down to preserve power. Only the sad ghost was left behind, and it seemed that all the others had gone, managing to get aboard the ship. The stars are gone. The light is gone. The warmth is gone. And only the darkness remains. The darkness and the cold. Still they pushed on, refusing to give in so easily, though many were close to Falling Down. Water was stored from the river until it froze over, there was no sign of the River Person or their ferry, the Monster must have escaped into the Ship on time, though nobody could recall having seen them waiting in line, or ever having left their ferry for that matter. Days went by, at least they were almost certain it was days and not weeks or hours. The only change was that the darkness got deeper and deeper, and the cold grew and spread. When Waterfall froze over completely the light from the Echo Flowers faded, their last whispers nearly one with the silence, unheard by any living being. “But nobody came.” ... ... ... It was the End. They could hardly keep the Fire-Monsters alive, burning themselves as they pressed closer and closer together around them, staying warm and keeping in the warmth as much as they could. Any food they had left had run out, monster food, human food, it was all gone. Even the water in their storage containers was in danger of freezing over. The Underground was silent. Waiting. “It was...” said Asgore, hesitating, his voice quiet and his expression unbearably sad. “It was so nice knowing all of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from this fate. I failed.” Toriel embraced him, and the sight stirred what little of the light and love that was still in the hearts of the Monsters who watched them. “No! No! You have not failed!” they cried. “You did everything you could. You did more than we could have ever asked!” Mettaton turned his body back on, to use the remaining few hours of power as best he could, rushing to and fro, finding wood from houses and fences that could be burned. Seeking out forgotten bits of food that could be shared. Each moment was borrowed, but it was another moment. Crystal, Snowdrake’s mother, was snuggled up to her husband. Toriel had asked if she was alright, but the kindly monster had said that her Snowy had made it aboard just in time, pulled up by Papyrus himself in the last few moments. As long as he was safe and away from here, then she could be happy even in the face of death. As the last of their lights flickered out, leaving only the fire-monsters to light the caverns, Crystal turned to the monster she’d lived in the same town as for years and years. “Grillby,” she called out. He looked at her, waiting. The bar owner had never been much for speaking. “Do you remember when we were in year seven of secondary school? When old Maggie insisted that everyone in her classroom had to try out for Choir in order to get a grade?” Grillby nodded, looking slightly annoyed by the memory. Old Maggie hadn’t been the best at teaching, and while everyone had cared for her, they were all very relieved when she had finally retired. “I remember you didn’t want to, because you didn’t want to sing. But she made you and you got upon on the stage and looked so frightened. Nobody had ever even heard you talk before, so we didn’t know if you could sing or not. But when you did...” she paused, a light smile on her face as she remembered. “You sang like the Angel themselves. Couldn’t you sing like that again for us now? As a favor to an old friend?” A smile flickered upon Grillby’s face, hidden deep among the flames, and he nodded indulgently. Silence fell over the monsters as he stood tall and prepared himself. Only a very few had ever heard him speak at all, and when he did it was brief and to the point. What could his voice be like? The first words startled them. In a voice that rose in volume and soared through the dark empty caverns like a light he sang the first words of a familiar song. “Ebbot’s Angel hear our prayer. Are you out there somewhere? Often we have called your name, but then nobody came.” The song itself was a grim one, with all the sorrow of those first years of being trapped Underground woven into the lyrics and tune. But it was a song that everyone knew. From youngest to oldest, each Monster learned it while they were still small. Taught by parents, friends, siblings. It was a song of games played in the snow and on sidewalks, it was a song whistled by old Gerson whenever he was doing spring cleaning in his shop, it was the song Undyne had first learned to play on the piano, it was the song of the music box for the Waterfall puzzle she’d made and left near the old memorial statue, it was the song with a million covers on the Undernet by a thousand aspiring musicians who started out with a song they were most comfortable singing, it was a song that Asgore had hummed while gardening, and Toriel had sung wordlessly while baking. One by one they joined him in singing, each voice adding something indefinable yet vital to their choir. Those Monsters who could not speak simply hummed the tune, and those who could not even do that made noises in accompaniment to the tune as best they could. It was called “The Angel’s Prayer” by many, or “His Theme” by those who remember it being played by a little Music Box at the baby Prince’s first introduction to the Kingdom. He’d been upset to be at the center of so much attention and had even cried before the Captain of the Guard, old Gerson himself, had presented him with a tiny music box he’d made that played the tune. Asriel had been enchanted; cooing and gurgling happy at the music as he tried to reach for the box. But the song’s true name was written down in the oldest books, on nearly faded music sheets, and in the Histories of the Underground. It had been named “Memory”. “On the slopes we fought our war; lost all we’d known before. Humans, Monsters; who to blame? The end is all the same.” A light blossomed in the distance, over the massive stalagmites that made the border between Hotland and Waterfall. A blue light, very faint, but undeniably there. Echo Flowers. The Echo Flowers were singing with them, echoing their song so that it reverberated off the walls of the cavern and back to them again and again. “Long ago we walked with you, ‘Neath stars of many hues. You promised us you would return, and for that day we yearn.” And softly another melody was weaving its way into their song, even as Grillby sang out high, another voice was singing along with him, wordless, and a different song, but it harmonized so easily that they almost didn’t notice its presence at all. When she recognized it for what it was, Toriel stopped singing, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. She knew this tune as well. In fact, she had written it. Years and years ago for her children. For Asriel of course, but also for Chara. “Once Upon a Time”, that was its name, because she had written it as a lullaby to use after telling them a bedtime story. But where was a it coming from? She looked around, trying to see its source in the darkness. “Soon the darkness will draw near, and all light disappear. Is that when you’ll come once more? Just like you did before?” They all stopped singing as another light appeared from the shadows, and though they stopped short, the song continued without them. With their own voices the Echo Flowers continued on, repeating endlessly the grim words with a hopeful melody. And the light before them was from a Door. It stood alone in the dark, tethered to nothing at all. On either side rose stone pillars, and above the door mantel was carved the Deltarune. It looked very much like the doors found the palaces of New Home and Home. Very old gateways and posterns meant for special people to pass through, such as the Royal Family or any humans who fell down from above. Yet unlike the purplish stone of Home or the pale white marble of New Home, this was dark and nearly black. How they could see it at all was a mystery, yet it seemed to give off a strange light. And as the Echo Flowers reached the last verse, the Deltarune above the door began to glow. The song Toriel had heard, it was coming from there, from beyond the door. And everything in her longed to go and see what lay there, on the other side. To see who was waiting for her. Perhaps Frisk, or maybe even Chara. And she could wait for the others too, and for Asriel. Oh, he liked to be called Realis now, didn’t he? A soft sigh seemed to come from the door as it creaked slightly open, a fine white mist piling up from behind it until it spilled over into a drifting wave towards them. Like a breath of fresh air. That’s what it felt like. Sunshine warming you after you’ve been inside all day long, and the splash of streams and song of birds. Perhaps its too late for it here, but somehow, somewhere, it is a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming. The perfect weather for a game of catch. ... ... There is a prophecy. The Angel... The One Who Has Seen The Surface... They will return. And the underground will go empty. Only a pale white Void is left behind, like a page in a book that has not yet been written in, or a blank canvas that has not yet been touched with paint, and that too will fade to nothingness. Emptiness remains, no one is left here, except... “YIP!!!” A little white dog barks excitedly. It has several possessions it has considered bringing with it. A sock it liberated recently from its longtime home of the floor, several bone based special attacks that were absolutely delicious, a brick-like cell phone that it used to make wonderful music sometimes, a real live actual bomb, and a salad. But it left its bag at home when the world ended and now it has no choice but to go on without it. Oh well. It barks at the door, which opens slightly, and then rushes through. With a sharp click the door closes. And there is nothing more.

[kyndaris]

Splintered

Another short story for people to enjoy. And, as always, it can be found on FictionPress and my Wattpad.

I hope you all enjoy!

Head buried in my hands, I tried to block out the cacophonous chatter of voices. The different personas that I had developed over the years, the different masks I wore with different people, swirled together into a monstrous force that threatened to pull me under.

Who was I? Where did it end and I begin?

Perfect and pretty and popular. A good student with straight As. Obedient daughter. Raucous party member that knew how to serve as a tank on the field of battle. Theatre kid extraordinaire, able to rattle off the lyrics to almost all the songs that had graced the stages of Broadway.

I took a deep breath. Held it. And then let it out after a count of four.

But the bubbling mess of panic inside would not subside as I hid in the girl’s bathroom stall. Just as it seemed like I would spiral into a proper breakdown, I heard the door to the toilets creak open and the sound of footsteps. It was followed by the twin squeaks of faucets turning and then the rush of water.

“Who does that new girl think she is?”

“I know, right? She needs to know her place. Waltzing in here, pretending she’s all that and then hanging out with the trivia team? That’s just not on.”

There was a moment’s pause. No doubt one or the other was reapplying a thick coat of lipstick to their lips. “Just because she’s got brains and looks pretty. It boils my blood to see those kinds of people think they’re better than us.”

“Oh my God, you’re so right, Naomi. Like, rude, much? We’ve all had our share of problems trying to fit in. So, like, pick a lane, yeah?”

Before the conversation could go any deeper, I made a show of flushing the toilet and stepped out of the cubicle. Naomi and Evangeline nearly jumped out of their skins. They turned towards me, their body postures screaming fear and trepidation that they hadn’t noticed someone had been listening. It felt powerful, knowing that I had been the one to place it there.

When they caught sight of me, however, two big fat grins stole across their lips. “Trish! Thank God. For a moment, I thought it was a teacher,” said Naomi. “Why didn’t you say anything when we came in?”

Mask firmly back in place, I grinned back at her. “And stop you from trash-talking the new girl? Never. So, have the two of you come up with a plan yet, or do I have to do all the work?”

~

By the end of the day, I knew all the basics about this new foe that had entered the Seven Oaks arena. I had her name: Amelia. I knew that she had transferred from a prestigious private school after an altercation with one of the other students. The reason was still unknown. I even had her schedule for the rest of the term.

Somehow, despite the closely knit cliches that had formed over the last year, Amelia had managed to weave her way onto the soccer team, switched to advanced mathematics and had taken a vested interest in the spring musical.  

How could she blatantly ignore what had been handed down since time immemorial? The high school status quo.

Every student knew of the unspoken social hierarchy that reigned in the hallowed halls of secondary education. The rules that had been passed down over the years. They were as sacred as the Ten Commandments.

The very fact that Amelia was throwing all that away meant that she had to be eliminated. Or, at the very least, her rebellious spirit crushed. After all, why should she be allowed to partake of everything that I had been denied? It hurt, juggling all the personas in my head with the public masks I wore.

People’s expectations had forced me into an untenable position. My true self hidden away. Buried so deep that I couldn’t tell what was real or fake. Did I really like having Naomi and Evangeline as my vapid airhead friends? Was Bryan really a good match for me?

It was hard to keep track of all the things that I was supposed to like – the latest fashion stylings from H&M and Forever21, shopping at Sephora and obsessing over Noah Centineo’s latest Netflix film – versus what I actually did like but had to pretend to despise – the works of the greatest female authors of the twentieth century and the cutesy characters of the latest Japanese role-playing games.

“Patricia, dinner’s ready!” My mother’s voice jolted me from my thoughts and my endless scrolling through social media. Reluctantly, I locked my laptop and put it on my bed as I headed downstairs. Research would have to wait. By the time I saw Naomi and Evangeline tomorrow, I would have a proper game plan for taking down Amelia and her ability to serve as a social chameleon.

As I sat down at the dinner table, I dared not question where the irrational fear and envy of her possible success to upturn the status quo came from.

Perhaps if life were different…

“So, how was your day at school, Pat?” asked Dad.

I looked up from my peas. “Good. There’s a new girl. We share the same AP Calculus class.”

“Is that right? Well, I hope the two of you can become friends. It’s rare enough that we see any girls engaging with STEM fields. And I’d like to think she’d be a better companion than…what were the names of those that you were help tutoring again?”

“Naomi and Evangeline,” I answered.

“Yes. Them. Sometimes, I swear there’s not a single braincell between the two of them.”

“Dad! You can’t say that!”

“You know what I mean, Pat. It’s always about boys. I want you to have more riveting conversations than how to snag yourself a boyfriend. Particularly at your age when there’s so much that life has to offer.”

I pushed my peas to the side and stared at the steak cooked to perfection. Tears burned at the corner of my eyes, though I refused to let them fall. It was the same old refrain I’d heard a thousand times before. I knew Dad meant well. And, truth be told, there was a part of me that was tired of playing the role I had chosen. Naomi and Evangeline couldn’t satisfy my need for intelligent discourse.

It was why I had to keep such tight control of the masks I wore. Without them, I feared what would happen if I let something slip. Life was a series of juggling personas to match the perceptions others had of me. But it was getting so hard to track them all…

Dad set his fork and knife down and leaned towards me. “Hey, Pat…I’m sorry about what I said. If it offended you. Or if sounded too harsh. It’s just that I want only the very best for you,” he said, concern laced in every word. “We sacrificed a lot to get here. But, more importantly, we want you to be happy with who you are.”

Forcing a smile to my lips, I lifted my head back up. “It’s fine, Dad. I know you mean well and I appreciate it.”

He reached for my hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

“Okay, now who wants some more potato mash?” Mom asked, breaking the awkward silence that had descended over the dining table.

~

The art of pretend was a delicate game. Easy to pick-up, hard to master. That was why I had been systematic in the creation of my masks. Each one had a dominant personality trait that was easy for me to slip into. They each had certain likes and dislikes.

But, more importantly, they were unique and distinct. There was no sharing between the personas I adopted (though they were all facets of me). It was easier to compartmentalise that way. To know what was acceptable and what wasn’t.

With Naomi and Evangeline, I was Trish. The baddest bitch on the block. A Queen Bee looking to hook her stinger into the most popular boy at Seven Oaks High School. She was popular and liked all the things that were expected of the walking cliché that she was. A stereotype with high ambitions.

At home, I was Pat. Hardworking straight-A student. Eager to meet the lofty expectations of her parents. Had her nose stuck in a book most days and was painfully shy when it came to meeting new people. She was burdened with acing the SAT exams and getting into a prestigious college and finding a high-paying job as an accountant or lawyer or whatever else might be considered success.

When I was online, though, I was PattieNeko. It was here that I could be the most authentic version of myself. It was where I could express my views on anything that caught my eye. Where I didn’t have to hide my enthusiasm for musical theatre or games with androgynous male leads that were tasked with saving the world from a massive threat. I could discuss the books I wanted, from Sylvia Plath to Kazuo Ishiguro to Jane Austen.

Of course, I would never be able to show my face on YouTube or TikTok…but I could derive some enjoyment for the content that was on there.

Hell. I even had multiple Instagram accounts. One in which Trish would be expected to use. Another to share things with my parents and family. And a third where I could follow whoever I wanted and share the posts that I felt the most strongly about.

But it was just so hard to keep it all up. I didn’t have time to keep updating my multiple social media accounts and do my homework and try to appease the two most insipid sycophants in the world.

Head down, pretending that I was struggling with the problems before me, I kept my eye on Amelia and her straight blonde hair. She was attentively listening to Ms Kaur; nodding at the end of each sentence and jotting down notes. At one of Ms Kaur’s many jokes, she smiled and I could see a dimple form.

God. How I hated how genuine she was and the effortless ease she used to navigate the social mores of Seven Oaks High School. Maybe it was that very naivety and innocence that shielded her from being torn apart. Or perhaps they were simply taken aback at the sincerity she threw into everything.

I watched her for the entirety of class instead of noting down the solutions to the multiple equations on the blackboard. Something I would rue the next day when Ms Kaur would spring a pop quiz on us.

When the bell rang to signal the end of class, I was one of the last to leave as I waited for the new girl to pack up her things.

Amelia and I shared several other classes and I had volunteered to show her around earlier that morning. It was mostly to show off how charitable I could be; how nice and friendly and earnest I was. The fact that it might bolster my chances for a recommendation to the best schools in the country was the least of my concerns. After all, among the teachers, I was an extension of Pat, not Trisha.

“Thanks for waiting up for me. We have history next, right?”

I nodded, keeping a pleasant smile on my face.

As we walked down the corridors, I set my plan into motion. The first step was gathering as much intelligence I could about Amelia. It didn’t matter who someone was, they had to have secrets. Ones that I could use to great effect. “So, what brought you here to Seven Oaks? Rumour has it that you were attending the prestigious private school on the other side of the river. A lot of people wish they could afford the tuition there. It’s supposedly an easy ticket into any Ivy League college.”

Amelia shrugged. “Yeah. But after going there for two years, I realised it just wasn’t what I wanted. Everyone there is just so competitive. Seven Oaks…well, it’s a different pace. I like it here.”

“What about your friends? It must have been hard on them when you left.”

She fidgeted with the strap of her backpack. “Listen, Pat—”

“You can call me Trish. Almost everyone in school does.”

“Trish,” said Amelia, testing the nickname on her tongue. “Okay. Well, it’s not really something I’m trying to keep secret, but back at my old school, I just felt so stifled. As if my every move was being watched and remarked upon. I couldn’t deal with that. So, I left.”

“That sounds rough. Was it the teachers, the other students or maybe expectations?”

Amelia shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “What I do know was last year I suffered three panic attacks and couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed for almost an entire month. I shut everyone out. Couldn’t bear the thought of living until mum came home with my little brother.

“It seems so stupid that one little thing can change your whole perspective, but that’s exactly what Hugo did. He brightened up my world just by being in it. Even though I missed the birth and everything.”

“So, Seven Oaks is a new start. I get that.”

She smiled at me as we rounded the corner and arrived outside the history classroom. “Thanks for listening. And being so understanding. I hope we can be good friends.”

I shook her outstretched hand. “Likewise.”

~

It wasn’t hard formulating a plan. The problem was execution. Naomi and Evangeline, while eager to see the new girl pulled off her high horse, hated hard work or contributing anything more than just words of encouragement. Even then, they struggled with their limited vocabulary. For three nights, I had received variants of ‘You go, girl’ and ‘Make that bitch pay.’ Probably, they were catching up on the latest episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians or some other reality TV show that would only serve to diminish what little was left of their brain cells.

Easier to put them into supporting roles.

I envied the ease that they coasted through high school, worrying primarily about catching the attention of any player on the Seven Oaks football team, even Michael Sanchez (who was about two inches shorter than them and looked like he was still a middle school freshman). It was like they lived in a completely different world from me.

And while Naomi was a skilled dancer and had participated in several contests, it wasn’t something she had to hide. After all, it was cool and fitted the image she had already curated at school.

The stress of trying to put my plan in motion whilst juggling multiple personas was getting to me. Twice, I had broken down in the school bathrooms. Another time, I had a panic attack on the way home. Naomi and Evangeline knew nothing of these moments though they looked at me strangely when I quoted a line from Dear Evan Hansen at lunch. Of course, by the time I had ripped into Stewart – the costume head of the local theatre – for spilling his drink on my blouse, they had all but forgotten the slip-up.

I hated that I could never truly be myself with anyone. Except Amelia. That she saw me as Patricia – whether that was the perfect straight-A student or the queen of the drama club – and seemed to have accepted every facet, was dangerous. It filled me with terror every night and haunted most of my thoughts during the day.

If she wasn’t so genuine, I might have felt bad for what I planned to do.

Picking up my phone, I texted three simple words that would see Amelia stripped of her self-righteousness as she stepped into the cafeteria and waved to me. Did she think escaping to Seven Oaks High would free her from the prison of judgement and expectation? Ha. I couldn’t wait to see her being crushed against the anvil of despair that was the lived experience of almost every teenager.

That was what it was all about, right? The crucible of bullies, high SAT scores and taking the crown at Prom.

Amelia stepped up to my table, tray in hand. “Got a spare spot, Trish?” she asked.

Naomi and Evangeline exchanged a look. “Sorry. The seats are taken,” said Naomi.

“But there’s only three of you.”

Evangeline looked up from her cuticles, gave Amelia the once-over before turning her attention back to her nails. “So?”

I threw Amelia an apologetic look and mouthed the word ‘sorry.’

“You know what, that’s fine,” said Amelia. As she turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of the disappointment that flashed across her face. Something in my chest twisted at the sight, but I ruthlessly quashed it down. I had a plan. I couldn’t let sentimentality get the better of me.

Amelia marched towards the doors of the cafeteria, tray, laden with lasagne and chocolate milk, balanced precariously in one hand. Just as Cormac and the rest of the basketball team came through. The two collided and Amelia was knocked to the ground, her lunch splattering to the ground.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Watch where you’re going, bitch. You’ve got pasta sauce on my shirt. This was signed.”

“I said I’m sorry,” said Amelia, head ducked low in a desperate bid to appear invisible.

Cormac grabbed the upper part of her arm. “Yeah, well, sorry ain’t going to cut it.” He pulled Amelia close. “What say you to a proper apology this afternoon, behind the gym?”

Amelia began to struggle but Cormac was too strong. The other members of the basketball team crowded around her and I lost sight of her among the jeering crowd of testosterone. He was laying it on thick. A part of me thought that the sick bastard was actually getting a kick out of hassling the new girl and it riled a small part inside me.

Memories flashed to the forefront of my mind though I tried desperately to quash them. The first few months of freshman year. Of how hopeful I had been for a fresh start after being thoroughly bullied during middle school. And then the realisation that if I wanted to succeed in this part of my life, I had to hide away almost every aspect that made me such an easy target and wear the public mask of Queen Trish of Seven Oaks.

Keeping up the charade was difficult at first until I took full advantage of my love for theatre. But Amelia’s presence complicated all of that. I couldn’t quite pull off the roles I had so carefully curated when she was around. In her presence, I felt much too comfortable. What had started out as a means to gather information had slowly formed into a tentative friendship of sorts.

“You’re nothing like what the other students say in the school corridors,” she had said during one of our study sessions. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to peg you. Wondered if all that sincerity you showed was just a way to get into the good graces of the teachers.”

I’d tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, it’s one thing to claw for popularity and another thing to get good grades. Admission into Ivy League isn’t based on the fact you were Prom Queen.”

“So that’s why you’ve been so accommodating despite your reputation.”

Silence descended over us as we finished off the last of the AP Calculus questions that we had been assigned.

“I don’t understand why you would hang out with Naomi and Evangeline,” said Amelia.

“They’re good people,” I replied. “Say, why not join us for lunch on Tuesday? I’ll have a word with them.”

It should have been criminal, how easy it was to plant the seed. Amelia left that afternoon, musing on the olive branch I had extended – never knowing that it would only be the start of her downfall.

The sound of a feral scream broke me out of my thoughts and I looked up. Cormac, restrained by two of his friends, his nose dripping blood. There was no sign of Amelia except for the swinging of the cafeteria doors.

Something had gone wrong. This wasn’t part of the plan.

I wanted to crush her free spirit, not set a jock on the warpath. And knowing Cormac, it was likely he’d take it too far. The boy wouldn’t have known restraint if it slapped him on the wrist and pinned him against the wall. I needed to head the problem off at its source – talk some sense into the star basketball player before he lost his mind. If I didn’t, I could already see tomorrow’s headlines.

Before I was out of my seat, Naomi had risen and sauntered over to the basketball team. She whispered something into Cormac’s ear, running a curious finger down his chest. His expression immediately changed, as if he had forgotten the altercation with Amelia. I let out the breath I had been holding.

“Didn’t think Naomi was into Cormac,” Evangeline said, leaning in close. “I thought she had her eyes on Sebastian, the quarterback.”

“I’m surprised too,” I replied. “Wasn’t she yapping about the villain in that show from Netflix just the other day? Shadow and Bone? Like, what is up with that?”

“The Darkling. Ben Barnes knows how to play brooding, dark and handsome. The books are pretty popular too.”

I raised an eyebrow. Evangeline admitting that she had read Young Adult fiction? What was the world coming to? Had she always been able to read? For a moment, my world tilted, but I maintained the façade. “Well, I, for one, am glad that she managed to defuse the situation. Cormac looked ready to commit murder.”

Evangeline hummed her assent, turning her attention back to her food. She picked at the lasagne. “So, what’s next in your grand plan, Trish? If we want to ruin Amelia, there’s got to be more. You’ve embarrassed her but that’s a play from every high school movie that’s ever existed.”

Someone had obviously been paying far more attention than I had given her credit for. Perhaps there was more than one braincell floating in that head of hers after all.

A secretive smile blossomed over my face. “All in good time, my dear Evangeline. All in good time.”

~

The next phase was harder. I needed to isolate Amelia from everyone in the school. To break her spirit, I needed her alone and helpless. To that end, I used the information she had willingly given me and, with the help of Naomi and Evangeline, spread the rumour that she had tried to kill herself before she had transferred over to Seven Oaks. It was malicious and terrible and I should have felt bad about it. But all I saw was a threat that needed to be put down.

Every day I saw Amelia shrink into herself. Bit by bit. She said not a word in class, hand down though I knew she had all the answers tucked away. During lunch, I never once glimpsed her in the cafeteria. And when I tried to call her to check in, I only ever managed to reach her message box.

Initially, I kept up the façade of the concerned friend. I made enquiries into whether everything was all right. But as the rumours started to spread through the hallways of Seven Oaks, I decided to play up my shock and horror at hearing every nasty embellishment that grew and grew from each lip it passed.

I knew things were reaching their peak when I glimpsed Amelia, pale and gaunt, floating down the corridor. She was like a ghost. Barely corporeal.

Now was the time to clinch the deal. To show Amelia her place. That she could not simply waltz into the hallowed halls of Seven Oaks high and be her authentic self. Sacrifices had to be made. The status quo maintained. She had a choice to make. Would she be among the apex predators or was she a wilting wallflower, eager to keep her head down as she kept up her grades?

Yet, even though victory over Amelia was close at hand, it was harder to keep my unruly personas in line. Fine cracks were beginning to appear on my masks. Every attempt I tried at mending them only served to damage them further. After my near breakdown in the girls’ restrooms, they were getting harder and harder to control.

Mom had been the unfortunate witness to one of my episodes. The day had started off good. I had woken up and felt in control. Saturday meant finishing off my assigned homework and then practising for my role at the local theatre.

But as I was rehearsing the lines, Trish came barging in and stomped all over Pat’s hard work. “What was the point?” Trish screamed. “She hadn’t gotten the lead. A two-bit character in a play was hardly worth the effort!”

Pat, of course, was happy for anything that she was granted. Acting was the only time she could cast all of her worries aside and focus instead on the now. There had been a row.

At first, mom had knocked politely on the door – afraid to interrupt what she had deemed ‘my process.’ Then the screaming had begun and she had burst through the door to see me in front of the mirror, scissors in hand and about to stab my reflection.

“Pat, what’s going on?”

I whirled around. Seeing her, Trish sloughed away. With a concerted effort from my other personas, we quickly stuffed Trish into the deepest recesses of my mind as I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Just practising for the play. There’s a scene that is a little intense. I thought I’d try something a little different just to amp myself up. Was it too much?”

She frowned. “Is this the method acting you were talking about before?”

“You could say that. So, what’d you think?”

“It’s a little too extreme for my tastes. For a moment there, I thought you were going to stab yourself. There was such a wild look in your eyes. One of the last things I want is for you to hurt yourself.”

Sheepishly, I set the scissors down and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, mom. I’ll try better.”

Mom reached over and gave me a bear-crushing hug. I returned it, just as fiercely. All I had wanted was someone to see me and accept that I was everything from Pat to Trish to PattieNeko and more. As Mom held me, I pretended that was the case – but always knowing that if she ever saw behind the thin façade that I presented each morning, she’d spurn me. Trish was not the girl she had raised. I was supposed to be meek, polite and obedient. Everything that I had baked into Pat.

Tears pricked my eyes. All I wanted to do was break down and cry but mom wouldn’t have understood. So, I forced them back until she left the room.

A crumpled ball of paper landing a few feet from my desk brought my attention back to the less than riveting class of the American civil war. I glanced down at it and then, making sure I wasn’t caught by Miss Williams, I leaned down and scooped it up.

Flattening it out, I recognised the distinct script of Amelia though it was jagged with emotion and ink blots.

I can’t keep going like this, Trish. Can we talk? After school. 4pm. Behind the bleachers.

This was something unexpected. But it brought my plans closer to fruition. I glanced over my shoulder. Amelia sat three desks behind me. She kept her head down; hair curtaining her off from the world. Mascara tracked down her ashen face. It was clear she wasn’t doing well and only holding onto her sanity by a thread.

Better to put her out of her misery now instead of prolonging the torture. I was no sadist – thriving on the pain of others. My goal had been achieved. Amelia’s spirit was broken and she would fall in line nicely. Uncapping my pen, I wrote my response and, when Miss Williams wasn’t looking, lobbed the note back to Amelia.

I didn’t look to see if she picked it up or read it. I didn’t need to. 4pm. Behind the bleachers. That was when we would talk and finally hash out the manufactured bad blood that had festered between us. Pulling out my phone, I managed to send off a text to Naomi and Evangeline before Miss Williams turned around to discuss the repercussions of the civil war that had split the nation in half so many years ago.

~

It was five minutes to 4 and I could see the bleachers in the distance. I was early. Trish would have railed at that. When you had the upper hand, you didn’t kowtow to the demands of others. Make a splash, the Trish side of me whispered. Being on time was overrated. Being fashionably late would always be in vogue.

Besides, if Amelia was serious at all about having a talk, she would not mind waiting.

Pat, on the other hand, was always conscious of the time. Mom and Dad had trained her well. In fact, she’d get anxious the closer the appointed time drew closer. After all, if I wanted to impress teachers, or an admissions board, I needed to be polite and courteous and conscientious. What was so bad about arriving a few minutes early? It meant plenty of time to revise my notes or to check Instagram about the latest updates on everyone’s social lives.

The two personalities fought it out in the privacy of my mind as I stopped behind the changerooms. In the end, Trish won. After all, the whole setup had been her plan. The tearing down of Amelia’s reputation, singling her out and ostracising her from the rest of the student body…

You could destroy a person within minutes if you knew whose ear to whisper into. Gossip spread like wildfire or like an aerosol contagion that could not be stopped.

Trish deftly took control. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through TikTok, waiting for the minutes to pass me by. 4PM came and went.

By the time I looked up again from the deep dive of videos the algorithm had fed me, it was 4:11PM. Perfect. By now, Amelia would be nervous – wondering if I was late or had simply forgotten. There hadn’t been any texts but considering how we stood, I knew Amelia wouldn’t have thought it appropriate.

I sauntered to the bleachers, taking my time. Pat was buried deep within my psyche. She would be no use – her bleeding heart a liability for what I intended.

As soon as I rounded the corner, I spotted Amelia pacing the length of the field. Biting her nails, she was the epitome of stress as she pulled out her phone and glanced once more at the screen.

“Sorry I’m late. Got held up.” It was a feeble excuse but the relief I saw on Amelia’s face was enough to tell me that she would subsist on anything just to feel a tiny bit of support.

“For a moment there, I thought—” she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

“What? Think I wouldn’t show?”

Her face flushed. “No, it’s not like that,” she protested. “I just…Okay. Maybe a little. It’s almost 20 minutes past. I thought you’d never show up.”

“Amelia, you know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do I? Trish, I know I should have been a better friend, answered your calls, but I was so messed up in the head. And then you left those messages…I thought you hated me.” Amelia began to turn away as tears threatened to spill.

I reached out and caught hold of her shoulder. “Hey. No. I just wanted to hear from you. After all, it’s not everyday that you hear about the drunken parties with frat boys and joyrides across the city.” I drew her closer, capturing Amelia in a loose embrace. “Is any of it true? Is there anything I need to know?”

She spun around in my grasp, her gaze drifting to my lips before they glanced up again and I saw the vibrant blue of her eyes. Amelia nervously bit her lip. Something fluttered in my chest but I ignored it. I was Trish. Trish was me.

There would be no mercy once I heard her admit her weaknesses and beg me for assistance. The mask of proprietary would fall.

“Well, Amelia? What aren’t you telling me? Why did you always feel like you were being watched at your old high school? Why was it so overwhelming that you needed to leave?”

Minutes passed and yet she still said not a word. As I started to pull away, however, she held tighter onto my arm. “Wait, Trish.” I looked over my shoulder. She swallowed nervously. “You asked me once why I left my old school.”

I nodded. “I remember that you said that it was because you hated how everyone judged you. That you felt every movement was watched and that you couldn’t handle all that scrutiny.”

“That’s true. But it’s only part of the story.” Something sharp pricked my skin. Amelia looked up at me, something dangerous flashing in her eyes as she held a switchblade knife right in the soft skin of my belly. A bead of sweat adorned my brow. Shit. Was I going to get stabbed? This was not how I had anticipated things going. “They like to throw labels around in my old school. I was ‘troubled.’ Always getting into fights. What the school counsellor never understood was that I never much liked how the rich bitches tried to impose their will on the student body.

“When I came to Seven Oaks, I thought it would be different. That I could make friends and be accepted for who I was, status quo be damned. Guess I was wrong.”

A stammer entered my voice as I eyed the blade Amelia held. I hated the weakness but couldn’t help it. None of my masks were overly familiar with violence except perhaps PattieNeko. Even then, it was consigned to the realm of video games and pretend. “P-put the knife down, Amelia. I thought you w-wanted to talk.”

“Scared now, aren’t you? When your life is on the line?” Amelia scoffed. “You’re just like the others, Patricia. All bark, no bite.”

The pressure on my stomach lifted. Relief flooded through me as she stowed the knife away and I let out the breath I was holding.

“You know the problem with people like you, Patricia? It’s that you’re constantly hiding. Too afraid to show the world who you really are. And because of that, you feel that the whole world ought to follow your lead. It makes me sick.”

I should have kept my mouth shut. It would have been the wise choice. To remain silent. But Amelia’s words struck a chord deep within me. “Do you think I like putting on a happy face each day?” I hissed at her. “High school is a fight for survival. Everyone knows that if you want to come out on top, there are a few necessary sacrifices you need to make.”

“Is that really what you believe?” said Amelia. “I pity you, Patricia. You’re probably the only one in Seven Oaks that can’t seem to accept the authenticity of who you are. Even Naomi and Evangeline, though their grades are abysmal, have a better grasp of who they are and what they want out of life.”

“And? What’s the point of this diatribe?” I said, puffing out my chest. I could still salvage this. Amelia might have a weapon at her disposal, but I still had the upper-hand when it came to the support of the school. I’d threaten her by reporting her to the disciplinary board. Maybe even the police. It was clear that Amelia was unhinged – deranged even.

Amelia shook her head. “Even now, you hide and cower behind the personas you’ve created, Patricia. Isn’t it tiring? Don’t you find it exhausting?”

She was trying to goad me into admitting my faults. It was probable that she had set up a camera or a microphone to record our conversation. Even though she was a lunatic, she was still a novice when it came to the confession playbook. I could see her every move and I refused to play the game that she so desperately wanted me to.

No. I needed to spin this opportunity to my advantage.

“The only thing I find exhausting is you, Amelia,” I said, confidence returning. I gestured to the empty bleachers around us. “This whole setup just to…what? Out me? I don’t know about you but I’ve never hid a day in my life. For years, I’ve endured putdowns and comments about my appearance back in middle school. But I rose above them. Proved the naysayers wrong. It took hard work to land where I am now.”

From the look in her eyes, I could see that she had realised she was losing traction. Any advantage that she had briefly gained by her earlier powerplay was gone. “Another lie,” she said, though her previous conviction was gone.

Anger flared and, against my better judgement, I stepped up to Amelia. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” I growled under my breath. “Having friends that don’t have two braincells to rub against each other? Sure, they can be a pain but Naomi and Evangeline are loyal.

“You talk about being genuine and one’s true self. Well, that sentiment can go and die in a hole. You can’t begin to understand what I’ve struggled with throughout my entire life. I’ve had to claw my way up from being the bullied wallflower. It wasn’t easy trying to juggle good grades with popularity but I did it anyways. So, stop trying to push your self-righteousness into my face.

“Learn your place in Seven Oaks. Every other student here has.”

I turned away, disgusted by my own emotional response. Yet, it all had to be said. Amelia had no right to come into my school and demand that the entire student body dance to her tune. Blood, sweat and tears had gone into the careful curation of all my distinct personas – each to cater to the whims of the people around me. It could not be for nothing.

In hindsight, it was not one of my better ideas to leave my back unguarded against a person that had been backed into a corner. And even though I had seen the switchblade, felt it against my belly, I had still thought it a prop from the theatre department. I realised my error as soon as I felt a stabbing pain on the lower right of my back and I crumpled to the ground.

Fearful that she would attack me again, I lashed out with wild kicks. Primal in the defence of my own person. This was another side that was neither Trish or Pat or PattieNeko. My lizard brain had finally turned on and I was running on pure adrenaline.

Somehow, I managed to knock Amelia to the ground. The blade went spinning away. It and her hands were red with my blood. She was still a danger; still a threat. With a feral strength that was unknown to me, I rose to my knees and leaped onto her prone body.

With a strength I did not know I possessed, I struck at her face. Once. Twice. And then an entire barrage of blows as I tried to reach every available piece of skin to punch or scratch. She had tried to kill me. Had stabbed me with a fucking switchblade that she had smuggled into school. Had tried to have me commit social suicide and ruin my chances at an Ivy League college.

Amelia deserved more than what I was able to dole out. With one last animalistic cry, I threw one last punch and managed a lucky blow.

Fist throbbing from pain and anger spent, I rolled off her. Chest heaving, I glanced back over at Amelia and the damage I had inflicted on her. It wasn’t much. She had turtled behind her arms and had rolled with the punches. A slowly forming black eye and a split lip would be her only souvenirs of today. Whereas I would probably need several stitches for the knife wound in my lower back.

“Are you satisfied now?” I gasped at her, once I managed to take in several mouthfuls of air. “You’ve ruined any chance of going to a good college. One look at your permanent record and you’ll be finished. Assaulting a fellow student, carrying a weapon onto school grounds…someone ought to just shoot you dead. A pity it wasn’t me.”

She turned on her side to face me, a shit eating grin on her face. “I always knew there was something off about you, Patricia. How did it feel to let it all out? All those frustrations?”

I ignored her, instead focused on how to extricate myself from the situation and spin it in my favour. It would be my word against Amelia’s. Given my standing in Seven Oaks, I knew I would win. Beyond that, I was the more grievously injured. And unlike her, I had a network of support. Friends and family that would be the first to denounce the violent girl that had harmed the jewel of Seven Oaks.

My first order of business, of course, was calling for an ambulance. After that, I needed to reach out to Mom and Dad. Naomi and Evangeline as well.

As I lay on my back, reaching for my phone in the back pocket, I noticed for the first time in a long while that the voices in my head were utterly and completely silent. There were no snide comments or unhelpful advice as Trish, Pat or PattieNeko battled it out to be the dominant persona inside of me. I was me. Without any conditions.

Had this been what Amelia had meant?

The revelation was almost enough to undo me; the temptation too great. I relished the silence. No expectations. Just me. I reined the enthusiasm back in. This was something to explore another time. For now, I had to deal with the teenage girl before me.

Just as the phone began to ring, something flashed in the corner of my eye. Immediately, I was on my feet again and ducked to the side. Amelia was back on her feet. In her right hand, she held a second blade. She gave me a knowing look before lunging forward with the switchblade. In my haste to get away, I dropped my phone. Amelia kicked it aside and it went spinning towards the field.

“What is wrong with you?” I screamed at her. “Why are you trying to kill me?”

“I know you felt the exhilaration, Patricia. Admit it. Didn’t it feel good to be you? To have all those voices shut up?”

There was a mad glint in her eye as she spoke. Realisation struck. Amelia was utterly deranged. Was this how I’d turn out if I let go of all my inhibitions? While it was intoxicating not having to worry about all the responsibilities that had been placed on my shoulders, if this was the cost, I would not partake in it. I had a feeling that acknowledging that particular truth would only lead down a slippery slope.

This was not who I wanted to be. No. I needed to extricate myself from this rapidly deteriorating situation and get to safety. Hopefully, Naomi and Evangeline would still be at school. If not, I could find a teacher.

The only problem was that Amelia served as the obstacle between me and the main campus building. Yet, what else could I do?

I feinted to the left and then raced through the opening she presented. Amelia cursed under her breath as she chased after me.

It felt like hours as I pelted through the ankle high grass. My side ached something fierce and I was sure that the wound Amelia had scored on me was bleeding again in earnest. I sucked in a shuddering breath when I finally reached the side doors of the main school building and fell into the hallway. Scrambling back to my feet, I screamed for help until my voice was hoarse.

Behind me, I heard the sound of footsteps. I didn’t need to glance over my shoulder to know that Amelia was close on my heels. I needed to keep running. But where? And for how long? I turned down a hallway, hoping to see someone. To my dismay, they were empty; the doors to the classrooms shut tight.

Where was everyone? It was nearing 5PM, true, but surely there was still someone in the school building?

I stumbled along, powerless and alone. The voices in my head returned with a vengeance. Trish was suggesting that we stand our ground and face the threat of Amelia head on. Pat disagreed. She was joined by PattieNeko. Both used their logic to dissuade Trish from making a stand. It was a foolhardy hope. Life was no video game and I didn’t have anything to defend myself with.

A cacophony of orders rose in my head. They were unbearable. Trish was telling me one thing, Pat another. And PattieNeko couldn’t be entirely sure which side to join. Perhaps, my online persona added, Amelia was amenable to talking it out.

But then, to my growing horror, I heard a fourth voice. One that had never existed before. It demanded order and obeisance from the others before it offered an alternative plan that was both bold and audacious.

Amelia only wanted one thing: recognition.

If I wanted to survive, perhaps it was better to play along. After all, what had my staunch resistance to Amelia brought me but pain? Before I could mount a counter-argument, the fourth voice reminded me that had I acquiesced earlier, I would not be in my current situation. What was one small admission in the face of death?

Now, of course, to do such a thing would be too late. The enemy would be suspicious of any attempt to accede to her wishes. It was time to take the battle to her.

Though it went against every fibre of my being, the fourth voice assumed control. It steered me towards the cafeteria.

As I burst through the doors, with not a soul in sight, I beelined towards the kitchens. I needed a weapon. Something pointy and sharpy and bigger. To my dismay, I could find no knives on display. Instead, I grabbed the nearest equivalent – a rolling pin.

Armed, I stepped out of the kitchens just as Amelia pushed her way in. Her movements indicated that she was in no rush. I despised how she acted so at ease. Amelia knew there was no escape for me and she had taken her bloody time getting here.

The urge to spit in her eye was almost overwhelming. Patience, whispered the fourth voice in my head. You’ll get your chance. I nodded; enslaved to the idea of smashing Amelia’s head in and finally claiming my rightful throne as Queen Bee of Seven Oaks.

Before either Amelia or I could do anything, someone charged through the doors of the cafeteria and tackled Amelia to the ground. There was the sound of something smacking against the rubber tile flooring. Evangeline stepped through a moment later, phone in hand as she recorded the scene. She stepped over the prone unconscious body of Amelia and waved to me. Michael Sanchez popped back up and flashed me a grin.

Realisation struck. Oh God. When had Evangeline got together with the worst player on the football team?

“We heard shouting in the corridor. When I poked my head out, I saw you dash into the cafeteria with Amelia following after,” he said. “After Evangeline told me about your plan, I knew that things had probably gone shit and you were probably in trouble.”

I was at a loss for words. The fourth voice, filled with darkness, had vanished as if it had never existed in the first place. Finally, Pat took control. “Thank you,” I said, lowering the rolling pin I still held in my hand. “We should probably get one of the teachers. And maybe call the authorities.”

Michael Sanchez thrust both thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan.”

~

The three of us watched as Amelia was taken away in handcuffs. I was given something warm to nurse, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders like a shawl. Someone had also taken a look at my wounds and patched me up as best they could.

Just an hour before, however, I had been bombarded with question after question. What had happened? Was this normal behaviour? Had there been any indication that Amelia would suffer a psychotic break? Could I describe the exact order of events as slowly and as succinctly as possible?

I had retreated into my mind, allowing one of the masks I wore to take command, only daring to venture out again once Amelia had been put into the back of the patrol car.

As the vehicle passed me by, Amelia turned to look at me. Our gazes locked. In that instant, the fourth persona that I had not known to exist within me rose inside to meet the steely challenge.

I could not say how she knew, but Amelia saw the change. A wide grin broke across her lips and she mouthed something through the thick glass. There was no doubt in my mind that it was a promise of things to come. Bile clawed up my throat and I felt as if I was about to vomit.

Yet, though I was disgusted by the teenage girl before me, I could not tear my gaze away from those slate-grey dead eyes. A tiny part of me was thrilled to see what would happen should we ever meet again. It could not wait until the next meeting. Would it be a fight to the death or simply a meeting of the minds? Amelia could not be so easily categorised and her view of the world intrigued this dark aspect of me.

If Evangeline and Michael Sanchez hadn’t been tonguing it in the history classroom, what would have happened, I wondered?

I turned away, trying to hide the shudder that rippled through my body.

That thought, more than anything else, absolutely terrified me.

[primitivejunketer]

I Want To Tell You- A George Harrison FanFiction

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

Chapter 5- Amour Mon Cher Amour

Fic Summary: George and Rosemarie have been next door neighbors their entire lives. As they grow older, feelings grow stronger. Will they fall in love or fall apart? angst/fluff/slow burn

Chapter Summary: We introduce Paul, Rosemarie goes away on a trip and the unexpected happens upon her return...

Word Count: 2380

Rating: T

Warnings: explicit language/minor affection

Note from the author: Things are happening now!!! Get fired up and buckle in y’all, we’re going for a ride. Also I know the gif below is from Stranger Things, that’s just how cute and awkward I imagine baby Rose and George to be.

Listen while you read! xx

---

October 22, 1954

George sat on the school bus staring out the window at the gloomy Speke weather. He lightly tapped his toes to the beat of Tennessee by Carl Perkins. 

“Hi, is this seat taken?” George looked over at the voice towering above him. A tall, pale boy with round rosy cheeks was addressing him. 

George shook his head silently. 

“I’m Paul,” the boy put out his hand for George to shake. 

“George.” He replied. 

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Paul asked.

“Yeh, I came from Dovedale. My brother came here so my parents made me.” 

 “Oh! What's his name? I might know ‘em.” Paul was jaunty. He had a baby face and was rather tall. He had a very warm presence but George was still new to the school and used to bullies from Dovedale, so he kept his guard up around Paul. 

“Harold Harrison,” George sighed, annoyed. 

“Oh, nah doesn’t sound familiar. But is that your last name? Harrison? That’s a good name. Mine’s McCartney.” 

Paul did most of the talking the rest of the way to his stop. George replied with unenthusiastic “mhm”s. 

The bus finally made it to Paul’s stop after what seemed like years. He shook George’s hand again before retreating from the bus. 

“See you tomorrow, lad.” Paul waved. 

George waved back, wide eyed. 

-

Rose was waiting for George on his porch when he returned home. She was leaned back on the steps, reading a book. 

“Good afternoon, Georgie! How was school?” She asked him in an annoying singsong voice. 

“School wasn’t the bad part, the ride home was.” He groaned, sitting down next to her. 

“What happened? Was someone being mean?” Rose became very concerned. 

“Not at all, this bloke sat next to me and was chatting my ear off the whole way to his stop.” 

“Awww George be nice he was trying to be friendly!” Rose swat his arm playfully. 

“Maybe I don’t want any friends,” he scoffed. 

Rose rolled her eyes and got up, “Come to my house, mum is making stew.” She put out her hand for him to help himself up. Unexpectedly, though, he didn’t let go.

The two held hands for the few block walk to Rose’s house. Before opening the door she awkwardly shook his hand away from hers and opened the door. 

-

December 17, 1954

“She is taking FOREVER!” George complained, tugging his coat tighter around himself. 

“Girls always take forever,” Paul laughed, roughing up George’s hair. 

In the past months, George and Paul had become best friends in school. They rode the bus together every day after the first day they met. They even clung to each other during school. Paul was a year older and had access to the music room at the school and introduced George to a few of his new favorite artists. 

Paul watched George, waiting for this mystery girl’s arrival outside of Trinity Catholic Girls school. 

As per usual, Rosemarie’s parents followed the Harrison’s footsteps and decided Rose should go to private school for secondary school. She fought hard against the decision but eventually lost against her mother. 

Rose HATED school. She hated her stupid black and white school shoes, and her stupid long forest green plaid skirt, and her stupid white button up shirt. 

Suddenly, Paul watched as George’s face lit up. He began waving frantically. Paul’s eyes followed the direction George was looking and he was met for the first time by Rosemarie. 

George gently wrapped his arm around her and turned to Paul. 

“Paul, this is Rose, Rose this is Paul.” George laughed sort of awkwardly. 

“Rosemarie Winthrop, charmed.” Rose smiled, putting her hand out for Paul to shake. 

“Enchanté, Paul McCartney,” Paul, flashed a wink at George, bringing Rose’s hand up to his face to gently place a kiss upon. 

“Alright! That’s enough friendliness for today!” George stood between the two of them, flashing a look at Paul that could kill. 

The three began to walk back towards George’s house for dinner. Mrs. Harrison was having a dinner, celebrating that all of her children would be under one roof for the night. Harold and Louise we’re visiting. 

“I’ve heard so much about you, Miss Rosemarie,” Paul mentioned as they walked together. George stayed in the middle so Paul and Rose had to speak over him. He walked with his head down, kicking chunks of snow as they went. 

“I wish I could say the same about you, Paul. George rarely talks about anything but guitars anymore,” Rose laughed, nudging George slightly. 

“I wonder who’s fault that is,” George returned a stifled laugh and motioned at Paul. 

“I can’t help it, my dad’s a musician!” He had a warm and hearty laugh. 

“Really?!” Rose was enthused, “what does he play?” 

Paul went on to explain his father’s jazz background. At this point, the two were getting along all too well. 

When the three arrived at George’s house, Rose went to greet Mrs. Harrison in the kitchen. Paul mindlessly followed, looking around pictures on the walls. 

George cleared his throat from the top of the stairs. 

“A word, Paul.” He spat. 

Paul smiled, already knowing what he was in trouble for. 

George pulled Paul into his room. “FLIRTING!” He whisper-shouted. 

Paul had to hold back his laugh, “I’m sorry! She liked it,” he could barely speak between laughs. 

“Of course she liked it! You were FLIRTING!” 

Paul was amused at how upset George got, he had never seen him this way before. 

“Look, I know you like her a lot. Relax, mate. She likes you too,” Paul placed his hand on George’s shoulder, reassuringly. 

“What are you two talking about?” The door opened and Rose entered, making George jump. 

“Nothing!” He answered all too quickly, making Paul laugh. 

“That’s not suspicious…” Rose said, raising an eyebrow, “anyway, your mum sent me up here to tell you supper’s ready.” 

-

January 18, 1955

Christmas came and went faster than anyone would have desired. George was heartbroken that he’d have to spend a month away from Rose. 

The week after Christmas, Rosemarie and her mother took what her mother referred to as a “girls trip” to France. Mrs. Winthrop was born in France and had lots of family there. She was particularly keen on staying with her younger sister, Dominique. 

The two sisters hadn’t seen one another since before Rosemarie was born. 

Paul had to deal with George’s complaints for an entire week since he insisted distracting himself with Paul’s presence. 

The two sat in a small cafe near Paul’s house, drinking hot chocolates. 

“You’ve got to stop moping, mate. It’s not like she’s gone forever.” Paul consoled George. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been away from her this long in my life.” George groaned and looked out the window at the snowy scene before him. 

“What is it about her that gets you this way?” Paul was genuinely intrigued. He had never really even seen George look at another girl the way he looks at Rose. 

“I dunno. I’ve known her basically since we were born and just- I don’t know. She’s so-,” he stopped and his face scrunched up. He didn’t know how to answer Paul’s question. 

“She’s just my person. She’s unlike anyone else.” That was the only way George could figure to put it into words. 

Paul nodded knowingly. He wasn’t much older than George, but wise enough to know exactly what he meant. 

-

February 2, 1955

“Bonjour! How was your trip?” George was at Rosemarie’s house not even an hour after she arrived home from the train station. 

“I had an amazing time! My aunt Domonique is spectacular! She taught me how to speak some French while I was there!” The two sat in Rose’s bedroom with the record player on. She was playing all of the new music she got in France, showing George how lovely French music was. 

She particularly liked Yves Montand and wanted to show George his record. She turned up the record player when Amour Mon Cher Amour came on and started to dance by herself. She slowly stepped to the guitar and swung around the room following the smooth lyrics. 

George was frozen. Sitting on the edge of her bed he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Something about her was different since she had returned. Of course she was wearing the popular French fashion, much more stylized than any British girl he had seen in the last month. It even appeared that she had rouge on her lips. George had never seen her wear makeup before. 

“Dance with me George” Rose smiled, putting out her hand for him to grab. 

He stood, somewhat shakily, grabbing her hand and dancing around the small room awkwardly.

“What does it mean?” He asked with a smile, showing off his pointed canine teeth. 

“Amour mon cher amour? Love, my dear, love,” Rose smiled and looked right into George’s brown eyes, causing his cheeks to redden. 

He stared at her face while they danced, he noticed everything about her. The way her chocolate colored eyes sparkled in her dimly lit room, the faint tint of red in her dark hair, perfectly tucked into curls that rested just right on her shoulders, and then did the unspeakable. 

He kissed her. 

And she did the unspeakable. 

She kissed him back. 

It only lasted a couple seconds but it felt like an eternity. 

Neither one of them knew what they were doing, there was a combination of George’s lips on Rose’s chin and teeth bumping into one another. But it didn’t matter. 

They pulled away both blushing, slightly out of breath. They couldn’t say anything, the two just sat there smiling goofily and staring into each other’s eyes. 

Then, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs, and before they could react, Mr. Winthrop was standing in the doorway. 

His initial reaction to seeing his daughter just barely an inch away from George was sweet, he knew it was bound to happen eventually and was happy for them. 

After a few seconds of everyone sitting frozen, George popped up, “Well, I best get going, told mum I was only going to be away for a few minutes.” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Rose quickly stepped behind him, walking past her father who had long since forgot what he went to go tell them in the first place. 

Rose followed George down the stairs and to the front porch where he had parked his bicycle. 

“So-“ Rose started. 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” George quickly interrupted. Rose nodded understandingly. 

“See you tomorrow?” She asked, sheepishly biting her lip. 

“Absolutely.” George hopped on his bike and leaned in once more, kissing her cheek. 

George sped down the street on his bike howling at the air.

“Whoooooohooooo!” He giggled as his bike tires skid along the frosty pavement.

-

Rose watched George until he turned a corner, out of sight. She stared dreamily at nothing at all, in a daze. 

She slowly turned back into her house, gently shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. She let out an audible sigh.

“Did someone just get her first kiss?” Mrs. Winthrop was cheekily peeking from behind the kitchen door.

“Mum!” Rose shouted, embarrassed. 

“He wasn’t being too bold, right? Kept his hands to himself?” Mr. Winthrop chimed in, peeking behind his wife. 

“Dad! It’s bad enough you interrupted!” Rose’s face was full red at this point. 

“Interrupted? It is my business who is kissing my eleven year old daughter in my house.” He retorted. 

Rose groaned, “Dad, it’s just George!” She tried to shake off the subject but her own face wouldn’t even let her. 

She couldn’t help the little smile that peeked up and the rosiness of her cheeks. 

She ran up the stairs to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. 

Before kicking off her shoes and lying down in her bed, she put the Yves Montand record on again. 

She grabbed her pillow and held it close to her chest, closing her eyes. All she could see was George.

She had every single part of him memorized. The way his shaggy brown hair laid on his head, the lines he’d get on his cheeks when he smiled big. She let out a sigh, accompanied by a little smile. 

There was a knock on the door. Rose opened it to welcome Mrs. Winthrop. 

“Hi darling, I made you a cuppa.” She held out her gorgeous silver tray with two China tea cups on it. 

Rose invited her mother to sit on her bed beside her. 

“So,” Mrs. Winthrop started, Rose already knew where this was going to go, “how was it?” 

“Mum!” Rose exclaimed, “I don’t think you’re supposed to ask me that.” 

Mrs. Winthrop laughed, “well, I’ll be the first to tell you, my first kiss was not at all ideal.” 

“How do you mean?” Rose asked, sipping her tea. 

“I was about your age, and I went to a public school, boys and girls mixed, you know.” She began, “and I wasn’t friendly with the boys, I had my sister and cousins, no desire to play with anyone else. And one day, this boy came up to me, oh what was his name?” She paused for a moment, but Rose continued to listen intently. “I think it was Jacques O’Hare, yes he was French Irish, anyway, he walked up to me, grabbed me by the arms and kissed me right on the mouth. I was DISGUSTED.” 

Rose burst into laughter. “Oh, mum I’m so sorry!” She tried to stifle her laughs but couldn’t help it. 

“Don’t worry about me, dear, my point is, how are you?” She asked her daughter. 

“Well,” Rose started, and then drifted off into thought. She had never felt this way before and didn’t know how to describe it. “I wouldn’t have wanted it to be with anyone else.” She smiled, satisfied with this answer. 

Mrs. Winthrop hugged Rose tightly, “so is he your boyfriend now?” She began to pry, with an eyebrow raised. 

“Mum! No, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t know what he is. I don’t want anything ruined,” Rose was solemn. She felt something unexplainable for George but didn’t want it to ruin what they already had. 

-

[kingspoetrysoc]

Interview with Basmah Mohamed

Basmah is a first-year undergraduate student studying English at King’s. She writes spoken word poetry as well as free-verse poetry, publishing it on her Instagram account @basthepoet. Basmah is a SLAMbassadors Finalist and Speak Out Regional Finalist, writing for publications like Young Writers CW and Exposure. The King’s Poet’s Ishita Uppadhayay speaks to Basmah about her creative process, the ‘purpose’ of poetry, and more.

When did you first start writing poetry? Was there a specific moment when you felt it became an established interest?

I started writing poetry when I was in Year 8, so quite young. I had experience writing short stories prior to that. There was a defining moment, sort of. At my secondary school, we had an opportunity to do a 2-day workshop with Joelle Taylor, who ran the SLAMbassadors competition, and Deanna Rodger. I had never written poetry before. The competition was on the theme of ‘Identity,’ and we had to write a poem in a day, and then film our audition clips. Two other poets and I were chosen to go on to the next round. Then we performed at the Arts Theatre in the West End.

Can you imagine? At the age of 13, having never written poetry before, I got the opportunity to delve into it on stage. I remember going back to school afterwards and everyone asked, ‘How was it?’ I was just like, ‘I killed that.’ We ended up being highly commended out of three schools nationally, and after that experience, I knew poetry was something I wanted to pursue. I had the pleasure of performing my spoken word poetry for many years throughout secondary school –- moments I’ll cherish forever.

I started off writing spoken word poetry, but for the past couple of years, I’ve gone away from that and started writing lyrical and free verse poetry. As of now, I don’t have many opportunities to perform on the stage, so that’s also why I’ve switched my focus to written poetry. But yeah, I’ve been writing poetry ever since I was 13, and I’m 19 now.

Do you prefer spoken word poetry to written poetry, and do you feel there’s a different process to writing each one?

There’s definitely a different feel to writing each of them. I don’t prefer either one, but I feel more experienced in written poetry as of right now and wouldn’t necessarily say I’m exclusively a spoken word poetry artist anymore. I definitely believe they’re two separate art forms with different creative processes behind them.

I love watching spoken word performances – there’s something so special and unique about the form. I could listen to them for hours and hours. Joelle Taylor once said that spoken word poetry is about showing, and not telling. I think this is completely true – with spoken word poetry, there’s an emphasis on ‘showing,’ through gestures, emotions, or visual imagery.

What’s your creative process when writing poetry? Do you have any writing rituals? 

I tend to write my poems digitally, which isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Usually, I just sit down at my laptop and write whatever comes to mind. Over the years, I’ve compiled a sort of master document full of ideas, scraps, fragments, and shorter lines of poetry I’ve thought of. I split my computer screen into two, and on one side I have a fresh document, while on the other, I have these fragments to use for inspiration that I can just pick and choose.

If I force myself to write a poem, it just doesn’t work out, so I don’t set aside time for it. I just write whenever inspiration strikes me, or when I feel like it. I’ve collected quite a few poetry journals over the years, and write all my poems down to have written copies.

Is there anything you’ve studied while at King’s that’s inspired your writing?

In our first semester, we did the Reading Poetry module, which I absolutely loved. Not only were my tutor group so inspiring and creative, but I was also able to find my new style away from spoken word poetry through the module. It inspired me to write shorter, more powerful poems – a style I’m proud of.

Who’s your favourite poet?

I always get this question, and I never know how to answer it! I feel like I’m someone who writes more poetry than I read. One of my biggest inspirations is Poetcurious, he was my former teacher and writes a lot of spoken word poetry. Poetcurious was the one who provided me with various poetry opportunities throughout my time at secondary school and really helped me grow into the poet I am now. I couldn’t be more grateful!

Some of my other inspirations are Akala, Hollie McNish, Solomon O.B, Zena Edwards, Deanna Rodger, and Joelle Taylor – of course, this is also because I’ve had the pleasure of working with them and seeing them perform live. I’ve also been inspired by George The Poet more recently. I look up to Emily Dickinson and Langston Hughes a lot, I really enjoy reading their poetry. I love Lucille Clifton as well. I read a lot of Middle Eastern poetry too, which has inspired my own poetry that I’d love to share in the future.

Do you think poetry is sometimes perceived as an inaccessible art?

I wouldn’t use the word inaccessible. I think poetry is very misunderstood. I think there should be more opportunities to learn about poetry in secondary school, as well as more of an emphasis on various styles of poetry – going beyond the canon and diversifying into teaching and learning about spoken word poetry.

Do you think poetry is meant to have a specific purpose?

There’s no one purpose of poetry – it can be anything you want it to be, which I find really inspiring and beautiful. Poetry is expressive for me: it lets me share my feelings with the world, and can also be a way of capturing a moment. The significance of poetry is subjective, so it truly can be anything you want it to be.

Does a poet need to have natural talent? How important is constant writing practice?

I think there are definitely good and bad writers. I know I said earlier that poetry is subjective, similar to how art is, but there are some boundaries. I don’t think writing poetry should be a tedious task where you have to write every day. If it helps you grow as a writer and a person, that’s great – it really is up to the poet.

Reading and thinking about what inspires you is the most important thing, across all different forms of media, whether that be painting, reading, listening to music… You don’t necessarily need to be very strict with yourself as a poet. At the same time, you need to edit your poetry and receive constructive criticism for it. Otherwise, your work won’t improve.

You publish some of your poetry on Instagram. Why this outlet?

I’ve been published before, and have done competitions. At a point during lockdown, I realised I had been writing more and wanted a way to showcase it. Instagram is the easiest way to do this. Using it as an outlet feels freeing, but also, I want to keep certain poems to myself. Sometimes poetry feels really personal and posting can feel like revealing aspects of myself.

I’m not looking to go viral. It’s just my hobby, what I love, and I’m really proud of it. I want to showcase it because I know people might feel how I feel, or even feel different. I love getting feedback from them too, it helps me improve my writing for the future.

Do you think publication in a journal or poetry collection is more intimate than self-publication on Instagram?

When I publish poetry online, I choose poetry I’m not too vulnerable about, and usually, work that I’m more open to criticism on. There is a different feel to both mediums. I do question using Instagram to publish poetry because of how exposed it feels. Instagram is freeing, as I said earlier, but it is also restrictive because I don’t want to expose all of my poetry – I’m not ready to share all these different parts of myself with the world.

What advice would you give to aspiring poets?

As cliché as this is going to sound, just write. Just keep writing. No matter how critical you are of your work, just write whatever comes to your mind. If inspiration strikes when you’re outside, or walking, catch it immediately and write it down. As passionate as I am about poetry, it’s not my future career. A lot of people think you can’t do anything else if you write, but you definitely can.

Also, always edit your work. It can sometimes be a difficult process, and no one really wants to do it, but it helps fine-tune your writing and gather inspiration for future work. Poetry is whatever you want it to be, and there are a lot of opportunities to publish or work with poets, so keep an eye out for these on social media. Just keep writing and keep going.

[tjilderda]

*Rhetoric as Narratives*

In this essay, I will examine the following questions: What central narratives does the following artifact tell through its rhetorical elements? What values does it promote and ignore? In which ways is this narrative productive or limiting for a society, and is it more productive or more limiting in it’s rhetoric? 

To answer these questions, I examined the song “Karma,” by AJR. This song portrays a narrative that mental health problems are a natural issue to have and that even if it feels hopeless, that you feel you deserve karma for the good you do, you can get help by the song promoting a productive message to help connect people and push them towards a positive end. As such, the narrative pushes the idea that mental health and the combating of it is not a weird or unnatural processing, but instead is one that helps connect people suffering from similar problems or emotions to help normalize these aspects to make it feel like they can be solved.

“Karma” is a song released by AJR in their third album Neotheater, released April 26, 2019. The song follows the idea of the lead singer, Jack Met, as he’s in a therapy session with his therapist. Through the lyrics we learn that Jack is lamenting on how he’s been, “so good this year,” yet receives no karma from his actions. In parts, there are times where Jack is seen in a sort of “dialogue” with the imaginary, unsaid, words made by the therapist making him seemingly questioning if he’s getting meaningful help, “Why? Are you asking me why?” As the song progresses he starts spiraling downward emotionally, eventually getting frantic when he realizes that the therapy session is almost over. The song ends with Jack pleading for a final answer to the question he poses multiple times throughout the song, “Doctor should I be good? Should I be good this year?”

To examine the song, elements from Palczewski, Ice, and Fritch’s article were used that defined narratives, “as representations... a form of symbolic action. They are referential, meaning they depict or describe events; they are not the events themselves” (118). Narratives, defined as so, are recollections or created stories that connect two or more event. In the process of communicating such narratives, they help create values that reinforce or challenge the culture they are viewed from. This idea is then built upon even further with their idea of social truths that are “beliefs and values that do not refer to some objective reality, but to social reality – those beliefs about what is right that people have arrived at together” (Palczewski, Ice, Fritch, 133). In such a fashion, social truths can be either reinforced by narratives to uphold the values a society views or can help shift the balance towards a new normalcy.

The main narrative aspect that is present in “Karma” is the acceptance through the lyrics that emotions of despair and wanting karma because of mental health issues is nothing to be ashamed of. In its opening chorus, the listener is introduced to these ideas very quickly with lines in a very neutral, possibly upbeat, tone saying, “I’ve been so good, why am I feeling empty,” and “I’ve been so good, where the hell is the karma?” The key aspect that is convey throughout the entire song is the idea of karma, and rightfully so, because it is an easy-to-understand concept that can be viewed as a similar lens on how people with mental health view the world. By not explicitly stating if the character of the song has any single mental health problem, it leaves interpretation for the listener to self-impose themselves into the role. Near the climax of the song, the one line that portrays the deepest connection and understanding, especially after his tone has changed to a frantic and pleading state, that conveys what it is like to feel the emptiness people with mental health issues sometimes experience is, “You say that I’m better, why don’t I feel better?”  This single line, with his tone, helps make people that feel this way perhaps they are not alone, there are other people that understand what “I” feel. By doing this, AJR creates a song with the understanding of this feeling to help try and connect people, to normalize the fact that these feelings can eat away at a person. By opening the door in a non-descript way, it even makes people without such issues understand and realize the way someone with mental health problems may feel or the way they view the world to create a sense of what someone else’s “normal” may be. 

A secondary aspect that is interwoven into the song is the idea that receiving therapy or assistance in treating mental health is a difficult and long process. At the start of the song, Jack seems to be very reserved, using humor to deflect hypothetical questions not explicitly said, likely being along the lines of, “Why are you here,” or “Is everything fine?” As the song progresses, he slowly opens up more by the second verse, still joking around but looking for possible solutions, “So where’s the karma doc, I’ve lost my patience.” By the end however, we see him finally breaking down, realizing that he has no more time left in his therapy session, but desperately still wanting help and answers when he says, “Please give me instructions, I promise I’ll follow.” In total, this creates a message that seems to be a strong parallel to just how difficult a process therapy can be for people suffering from mental health. It is a road that takes so much time to open up to a therapist, and even more so before one can start truly making improvements. The song however approaches this idea in a reverse order, starting with the conclusion that Jack deserves karma, only then to explain all the different ways he is worthy of it. By doing this it approaches the idea of deserving karma as a fact, that people feeling this way do not necessarily need to validate their argument; they deserve to be happy and to have good karma come to them no matter what. In a way, it can even show the idea of how people receiving therapy may feel like they are not actually improving, that they just want a single answer to be able to solve all their problems. It helps create a grounded reality of just how difficult the process can truly be, even showing the gradual descent of how hopelessness can still grow even when one starts getting help.

Overall, the message that is portrayed from “Karma” is one that is largely a positive and productive narrative; however, there are some claims that can be made for the idea of a negative result. AJR does their best to make a song that is simultaneously sparse in specific details yet feels incredibly accurate in the emotions it tries to convey to their audience. In the face of so many different mental health issues, they instead paint a picture using broad brush strokes of emotions, rather than fine details that examine specific ideas such as depression and anxiety. In doing so, they help open the door to allow more people to connect and feel understanding in their emotions, rather than baring specific type people out. Not only, but the main aspect that is beneficial is simply the fact that it is a song about opening about emotions and getting therapy. In the past few decade, mental health went from a taboo subject to something that could be sung about, as “Karma” shows. As said multiple times, it makes this more of a normal topic and allows people the possible understanding of what kind of process therapy could be. The downside, however, is that this song can be taken many ways, and there is one that could be negative: viewing therapy as unhelpful. While making a case that the therapy is helping, as Jack does open up by the end, at face value the song seems to suggest that he has received no help real help from his therapist. However, the line, “If only I could keep you in my pocket,” would seem to suggest that the therapist is doing something as he does not want to leave the session and would appreciate if he could take the advice wherever he goes. While the interpretations can be vastly different, the overall message seems to paint a picture that shows mental health as something that can be helped, that people deserve to feel good karma for their actions.

In his article examining narrative theory applied to popular music texts, Nicholis examines how songs can shape and form narrative discourse. In his study, he examines a handful of songs which he presents and analyzes both from a narrative and melodic frame. The main examination that helps show the importance of narrative is in his examination of “Video Killed the Radio Star.” Through this song, Nicholis finds a story that is reinforced with the ideas of tone and instrumental. In the end he says, “I would nevertheless argue that narrativity can be an extremely useful tool in our understanding of popular music… there are numerous other songs and albums… which could similarly benefit from an interpretation in narrative theory” (Nicholis, 312). With such a strong conclusion, it seems beneficial to examine modern day songs to see what types of messages have come as a byproduct of our social world developing and changing. “Karma” helps bring the ideas of mental health and such negative thoughts to the forefront of people’s minds, and helps connect those and make others understand what it is like.

In summary, “Karma” is a song that shows the troubles of dealing with mental health. Through the lyrics, it helps connect and relate people who experience similar emotions that are conveyed while accepting the difficulties that come along with getting therapy. In doing so, it helps normalize the emotions and actions that often come along with mental health issues and the processes surrounding them.

AJR “Karma.” Neotheater, 2019. Spotify, https://open.spotify.com/track/3VygfAvvgVaJUeaBUSzlZu?si=04a43427171b4d9f. 

Nicholls, David. “Narrative Theory as an Analytical Tool in the Study of Popular Music Texts.” Music & Letters, vol. 88, no. 2, May 2007, pp. 297–315. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1093/ml/gcm006. 

Palczewski, C. H., Ice, R., Fritch, J. “Rhetoric in civic life.” Strata Publishing, Inc., State College, PA, 2012, pp. 117-146. 

[enthusiasticmusicalquotes]

QUESTION OF THE DAY #6: Send me your most unpopular theatre opinion. Something that might make someone want to fight you. Please don’t be offensive (racist, misogynistic, etc.), but other than that…go as hard as you want. Spill all the tea.

MY ANSWERS: 1) The Pretty Woman score fucking slaps idek, 2) Come From Away (or even Bandstand...) should’ve won the 2017 Best Musical Tony, 3) I prefer the West End Heathers cast album to Off Broadway, 4) Shows shouldn’t sweep the Tonys just because they’re Best Musical worthy...shows that aren’t too critically acclaimed but have really impressive elements should get recognition too.

SUMMARY: Out of 37 responses: 5 were about Dear Evan Hansen, 3 were about Hamilton specifically, 2 were about: Rent, ALW, Wicked, In The Heights, Be More Chill, etc. etc....if your favorite musical is one of these and you get easily offended i wouldn’t read these.

NOTE: I agree with some of these, I highly disagree with others. I do not endorse any of the things that were said, I am simply sharing them with you all. These were what was sent to me. I’m going to number them so if you want to complain about or agree with one you can send me an ask with the number you’re referring to. 

1. howmuchchildrens said: unpopular opinion: i really liked the 2012 version of les mis. i liked russel crowe as javert.

2. Anonymous said: Unpopular opinion: Bootlegs harm to local theatre communities, though I do not believe anyone intends for that to be the case. While it's possible to bootleg responsibly (and I might even say it's beneficial to do so), those who may not know the intricacies of theatrical copyright law or who haven't heard the horror stories from a theatre that's been hit with legal action DUE to a bootleg may record or watch a show irresponsibly, which can greatly harm other routes of theatre accessibility.

3. Anonymous said: Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals are mostly terrible. He only got and stayed popular because a lot of other musical creators and taste makers died in the AIDS epidemic

4. Anonymous said: Almost all musicals using the songs of one artist are cash grabs with no plot or point.

5. Anonymous said: If your musical only has 1 woman OR the women only get sad/romantic songs you need to do something else with your life.

6. nerdshrimp said: Unpopular opinion: Next To Normal does a better job of portraying the effects of mental illness than Dear Evan Hansen does. N2N also doesn't romanticise mental illness & excuse shitty behavior like DEH tries to

7. Anonymous said: Hadestown is a lesser show on Broadway. I fell in love with the live album, and I was so excited for it to come to Broadway. I was so disappointed to see the changes they made. Orpheus and Eurydice's relationship is less interesting and more generic. The changed lyrics are often sloppy and not as good as the original. They fucking wrecked Epic III. Also, no hate to R/ee/ve, but he's just not a good enough singer to convince me that he could soften the heart of Hades. His high notes are awful.

8. Anonymous said: opinion: we are the tigers deserves a broadway run or at least a proshot

9. bimystique said: e/c is NOT A GOOD FUCKING SHIP. the ENTIRE PLOT OF PHANTOM OF THE OPERA is christine trying to escape erik's abuse. WHAT FUCKING PART OF THAT IS ROMANTIC TO YOU PEOPLE.

10. Anonymous said: unpopular theatre opinion(s): Dear Evan Hansen is Very Bad for its handling of mental illness, Hamilton is overrated and praised too much, and high school/college musical theatre programs can be just as good as Broadway. (also, musical movies would be better if they hired broadway actors, but that's not an unpopular opinion)

11. Anonymous said: I don’t like Lin Manuel Miranda and Hamilton is overrated

12. Anonymous said: I don’t like dear Evan Hansen..... at all. I think it’s kind of boring and really overhyped.

13. Anonymous said: unpopular opinion: in the heights is far better than Hamilton. both are good but ith hits different yknow

14. Anonymous said: The bring it on and legally blonde musicals are BAD! The movies are 100 times better

15. Anonymous said: unpopular opinion? wicked is the epitome of white feminism. it's preached as super great for representation but we literally got the first black glinda in 2019?!?!?!? and before that woc could only play elphaba who's villainized and deemed evil by the whole city

16. Anonymous said: Not so much an opinion as a reaction, but of all Lin's works (ITH, Bring it On, 21 Chump Street, Hamilton), 21 Chump Street gets the biggest emotional reaction of all the cast recordings. The second Justin is like "I don't want your money" (And then later on with the "...what the heck did you.... dooooo", I am a complete goner. Worse than Abuela Claudia and Philip Hamilton's deaths combined

17. Anonymous said: Whenever Je.ssie Mu.eller hits certain notes, she sounds like Tommy Pickles from Rugrats.

18. Anonymous said: aotd6: not everyone knows what im talking about, but the cats 2016 broadway revival choreography was WAYYYY better than the original. the original had a lot of creepy uncomfortable moments and the new one looks way cleaner and up to date

19. Anonymous said: raoul is better than the phantom in every conceivable way

20. Anonymous said: I hate Anastasia so much. it's such a boring show and the music is uninteresting. I wanted to like it so bad but GOD is it boring.

21. Anonymous said: In the Heights.... Overrated.

22. Anonymous said: I do not know if this is an unpopular opinion or not, but here is my opinion: Musicals that are entirely or nearly entirely songs (Hamilton, Hadestown, In The Heights, etc) are the most valid bc I can understand the plot without using wikipedia (I'm looking at you, Jagged Little Pill, I love you but what is your plot????)

23. Anonymous said: I'd rather have a bad film adaptation than no film adaptation

24. Anonymous said: Rent sucks and while it was a stepping stone for more ""controversial"" topics to appear on Broadway it's actually biphobic and features several generally terrible people doing generally terrible things and doesn't actually address the real crisis at all; it's all performative wokeness. The only real good it did was cast a bunch of "nobodies" for the time and make theater somewhat more accessible.

25. stardust-and-seas said: Dear Evan Hansen doesn't properly address mental health despite being about mental health and resolves nobodies character arcs satisfactorily. It's another show that reaches its hands around the throats of marginalized teenagers saying "look I'm relatable!!" The songs taken out of context are significantly more powerful than when placed in the context of the show, which gives us exactly zero evidence of Evan's work to improve and also never resolves Evan's u healthy goals in the first place.

26. stardust-and-seas said: Be More Chill is a raging dumpster fire and the only decent song from it, Michael in the Bathroom, reads as a whiny rich white boy whose potential social anxiety and depression is left ambiguous, which is exactly what it is. When taken out of context it better exemplifies the othering that happens to marginalized groups but lets be real here: bullying/cliques don't happen to "just anyone"; it's the marginalized groups that are othered and abandoned for not being "normal"

27. stardust-and-seas said: There's a difference between shows that don't take themselves seriously because they're meant to be fun and light and shows that pretend not to take themselves too seriously but want to be taken seriously by the audience and the latter always ends up mediocre at best

28. redueka said: i think that dear evan hansen handles every issue it presents badly. i also think that beetlejuice was badly directed

29. Anonymous said: Well I don’t EVER condone cheating, I’m team Jamie in the last five years. He tried so hard to make their relationship and life good, and Cathy gave him nothing in return

30. youcanlolyoucansayohwell said: The answer of the day- I don't get the BMC hype. I'm out of the age bracket it's meant for that might it be. I enjoy it but I don't think it's the greatest thing in the world like some theatre fans do.

31. Anonymous said: i like the rent 2005 recording better than the obcr

32. Anonymous said: unpopular opinion ? : the music of wicked just like isn’t that good. like it’s good but it’s not like, Good, yknow. it’s pretty standard it doesn’t stand out to me. kinda boring

33. Anonymous said: mari.ah r.ose fa.ith is not a good regina george. everything she says sounds monotonous and while i understand she's trying to play off the ""whatever"" teenager (she does this a lot with her teenage characters), 90% of the time she sounds and looks like she doesn't want to be there; her voice is great but most songs feel unnatural and forced and she changes them too much. she's just not selling regina to me as a believable character (this is all from a technical point of view)

34. Anonymous said: Unpopular Opinion: as much as i like musicals based on movies (like waitress), i think not every movie needs to be a musical.

35. Anonymous said: Unpopular opinion (?) the emojiland musical Kinda Slaps

36. Anonymous said: as one of my high school tech theatre teachers once said: "Andrew Lloyd Webber is overrated"

37. Anonymous said: sorry to whoever likes it but Seussical is an absolutely nonsense crackpot plot disguised with okay-to-good music, like I don't even know where to start. I was in the show and didn't even know there was an entire secondary plot line featuring sending children to war until we were halfway through rehearsals

[cateringisalie]

FFVII Halloween Day 5

Written for the prompt ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’

The oft made remark was Nibelheim was no place for children. Little was made of a way to make it more of a place for children. Kanna Lockhart was descended in a reasonably direct line from the town founders; those who saw value in a stopping place for trade caravans, in knowing the mountain. Or at least paying other people to sort those matters out while they profited. The town had grown to include mining and some farm work, though the mountainous terrain was poor for such ventures. Mount Nibel was by most accounts useless for much of anything; the near barren mountain infested with monsters and served mostly as an obstacle to navigate. If the mountain could be cut down, someone would. For now it persisted. But where settlements formed inevitably children followed – and despite the seeming obviousness of this situation the town had and always was woefully unprepared for their presence. There was an education system of sorts though children of all ages were crammed together in the same room to be lectured or poorly taught maths and writing by whichever adult had the responsibility this week. This situation had persisted for a long while and there seemed little notion to improve it. Midgar might prove an attractive lure in the distance, but much of Nibelheim remained insular and reluctant to move. Hard not to dream of something more. Televisions while a chore to watch through the interference depicted different lives elsewhere. Better ones. The warmth of Costa del Sol, the exotic nightlife of Midgar, or the stirring militaristic belonging typifying Junon. So distinct to the dreary grey of the town, the near perpetual cold, and a town where the height of culture was the monthly drama staged with great enthusiasm and a severe shortage on talent and budget. Nibelheim children made their own fun. Some were content simply to read or practice music – good, safe options for children who did what their parents commanded. Others found other distractions outside – ones adults disapproved of. The biggest taboos were the mountain. Everyone knew monsters never came lower than the bridge spanning the gorge, and monsters could never cross the bridge without breaking it. But still venturing into the foothills and away from the town limits was outright forbidden. And in forbidding it, the adults only served to make treading there so much more appealing. Deliciously rebellious and new and dangerous. It was at least one of those things; Kanna had broken the rules along with so many others. A thrill of rebellion soon gave way to malaise and boredom. The mountain was near barren, lacking grass or anything to do other than be away from the town. And what wildlife existed was across the bridge and higher – and came in the form of monsters. Some took the greater risk of rushing across the bridge into the forbidden area beyond; Kanna could not countenance the notion yet. Too risky; not simply of monsters noticing but of a guide finding them. Little hope the individual could be persuaded not to tell parents after. Today was such an instance; the other children wanted something more daring and crossed the bridge – leaving Kanna stranded on the town side of the gorge. She fidgeted beside the bridge, willing her friends to come back, dreading some adult from the town venturing up the trail and finding her there. Little tolerance of cluing the adults in on their escapades. She would be left alone if she dared breath. Soon clear the others weren’t coming back. An awkward, frustrating conflict. Were they okay? How much trouble would she be in if revealed she knew they had gone up there and told no one? If they were injured or killed by the innumerable threat of the mountain? Should she head back now and pretend she knew nothing, she had not been with any of them today and whatever fate they brought down was their own fault? The wind whistled, a more chill breeze than expected for this time of year. And with it came- Singing? Kanna turned her back to the mountain and concentrated. Faint but there. Some strange and unfamiliar melody. Coming from off the path. The key rule of climbing Mount Nibel – or perhaps secondary after simply not climbing it – was to never leave the path. But someone was over there. Someone with a strangely beautiful voice. Another desperate check. She could not go and see. Could not risk more than she had. Could she? Still no sign of anyone coming back down the mountain and no sign of anyone ascending from the village. No one but her here. And the mysterious singer. The ground beside the path was solid. The singer lay in a direction away from the gorge where the mountainside was level. No monsters down here. Still risks of ravines and cliffs, but this section of the path was well away from them. She should be fine. Still required some effort to step from the constantly restated safety of the path and out into the wild and unfamiliar risks of the surrounding rock. But- She gingerly set her foot down. Solid rock. Of course. Not like the mountain was an illusion, the path a curving strip of rock and wooden and rope suspended above a hideous fall, some strange mirage or hologram existing as an artificial barrier. Kanna grinned and picked her way across the mountainside and towards the singer. She – the singer sounded like a woman – continued untroubled. Not someone in need of rescuing seemingly. But what was she singing? It sounded at once familiar and new. Old but strangely modern. The words- If the song had words they were the likes Kanna had never heard before. This was not indicative of anything; there were many instances of much derided trendy music the adults hated where lyrics were distorted or strange coming from the singers. Strange to hear one in person though. A quick glance back revealed the path still visible and no one around to witness her. Not in trouble. Kanna cleared a rise and found the singer. She was still somewhat distant, a hunched form of ragged brown. A coat or a cloak; possibly a blanket. The singing ceased, and the form shifted, the cowl of blanket or cloak shifted away from Nibelheim to face Kanna. Darkness under the hood, nothing to see or discern. “Did you like my singing?” “Yes.” Kanna blinked. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” The form shook, the cowl swishing from side to side. “Oh, no disturbance.” She sounded oddly pleased. She broke into the song again. Oddly warm up here, oddly relaxed. The mountain looked almost beautiful- The singing faded and Kanna was at the bottom of a slope. The path was obstructed by a rise in the rock and the strange woman was a lot closer now. Kanna took a step back. “It is a lovely song.” “Would you like to hear more?” An almost slur to the voice. The sleeves of the cloak met in front of her, the fabric rustling and shifting as if she was rubbing her hands. “I should get home. I think?” The woman had crept closer, stopping beside a low rise in the rock. “I’m not meant to be here.” The warmth from before was gone. The beauty of the mountain so clear before was gone too. Ugly, grey, barren rock all around her. The path was behind her. Not to the left, not to the right. Behind her. The woman hummed and her head swam. “There’s no hurry.” The hood jerked in time with a sniffing sound. “No hurry at all.” She was right. Nothing to get back to immediately. Hours- “-before Mom notices.” Kanna’s foot caught against a rock, the movement jolting her. “And Dad won’t be back until tonight.” The woman’s toneless voice matched precisely to her thoughts. Kanna shook her head. “It’s been nice to meet you but I need to get back.” Get away, far away. She turned and stopped. Her body stopped moving, stuck standing, on the verge of walking. “I see you’ve been a good girl and always drunk plenty.” The woman’s voice was so loud and so close. She hummed again; when the note faded she was facing the woman and all too close. One of the sleeves was raised, the fabric falling back to expose purple skin, silver nails almost talon like from her hands. “Not everyone in the town drank the spring from the mountain. Not all of you so good. But, you. You are so good.” The voice was almost a snarl now. Nothing happened when she strained. Trying to move her arms to shield her, or fall back to the ground, to put some distance between them. “What... What is happening?” She managed to struggle from her throat. The figure leant closer. “Weak still. Not enough of me in you. You need more.” The hand reached- A narrow crevasse was right below, plunging down into unknown depths within the mountain, the distant sides coated with strange red and purple and silver growths. Was this woman, this creature about to take her below ground? “Kanna!” A voice split the air. Dad! She fought the sensation constricting her throat to call out. The first syllable was barely audible, but the second rang clear. She repeated it again, falling back, away from the crevasse and the woman to land awkwardly on her back. The sky overhead was dim, the sun low behind the mountain. The crevasse; she scrabbled back. She had been too close- Where was it? Effectively invisible in the low light, the hooded figure also nowhere to be seen. She yelled out again and her father cleared the rise and skidded down the slope, lantern in hand. “Kanna! Are you okay. Are you hurt?” “I’m okay. But-“ The light from the lantern was enough to illuminate the surrounding area. No sign of the woman. And more critically, no sign of the crevasse. Nothing but an unremarkable unbroken section of rock. Kanna was, of course, in severe trouble after. Grounded for a month, though her punishment seemed lighter to her friends who were apprehended up near the reactor and made an example of as a result. Kanna’s absence had been noted and sparked a panicked search. Of the woman and the crevasse, Kanna said nothing. The details and her discomfort, to say nothing of the panic she experienced all became distant. Mount Nibel still drew her to it as she grew older, oddly tempting when she was an adult to make the trip up again. But she resisted. Enough of the memory lodged to make her reluctant. She started asking for her water to be boiled and paid the extra cost for water bottled elsewhere. She could never countenance drinking direct from the taps again. Neither could she explain why. And on the nights when the air was still, when the sun sank and bathed the mountain in shadow. When a gust of wind brought singing to her ears, Kanna would lock her doors and stuff her ears, praying morning would come soon.

[counterpunches]

This is going to be an utterly rambly mess of like three or four separate essays in one, but it’s only been like 24 hours and I have a lot of feelings and need to just get them out so here goes: (huge spoilers below, obviously)

Ultimately I think Frozen 2 comes down to having some really interesting ideas and things to say that ultimately didn’t entirely go far enough to succeed.

As satisfying and complete as Elsa and Anna’s relationship was in the first movie, I can’t help but feel a little bit of the opposite this time around. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for intertwined, co-dependent people becoming more healthy and independent and thrilled at the end note. I love the journeys the characters took, I just wish they actually showed it better. I didn’t believe it even though I agreed with it.

The catalyst of the movie hinges on Elsa’s sudden apparent need for more when this thought has never previously been expressed. We’re not given a reason enough to doubt Elsa wasn’t happy and didn’t have everything she always wanted.

Not that ‘show don’t tell’ is the single gospel truth from a storytelling point (there are ways to do the former very effectively through the latter) but the movie played the central character’s purpose and secondary tension to the plot as something only passably mentioned if at all. This new reason and purpose, the drive for answers and feeling like she never truly belonged wasn’t built enough to override and supplant her previously established central purpose and tension: Anna.

A few of the film’s other weaknesses play into this. 

I expected more of the Northuldra. I liked the few characters we saw, and I get that there’s a lot of material for the main characters to go through so cut for time, but if by the end the main lead gives everything up to stay with them, then you gotta build them up enough to match. If Elsa’s gonna stay in the north and not with Anna, then there has to be more of a pull for her. The Northuldra people aren’t magical themselves, but they do trust nature’s magic. So I guess, that means Elsa has to stay there? It’s only been 35 years since the mists fell, but they don’t even seem to know more about the spirits than Elsa herself had discovered. “This place suits you” isn’t enough to ditch her world that came before it. All the movie gives us is “Elsa’s the Fifth Spirit (which, WOW, I have a million follow up questions to that) and suddenly has a thirst for adventure and nature, so I guess that means she has to stay???” and we’re supposed to accept that as-is. But they have to give us more because if anything, this movie teaches us the importance of choice. We can’t control what happens, but we can control how we act and what we do about it. We can’t change the wrongs of the past but we can work to right the wrongs in the present. Elsa didn’t have to stay. But the movie is telling us ‘Elsa wants to stay and does’ and there’s no reason to back the weight of that choice up.

The confusion starts right in the beginning with ‘Into the Unknown”. 

Did Elsa wake the spirits, or did the spirits wake her? It’s not clear and the difference is important to Elsa’s drive throughout the rest of the movie. She sings happily with Anna in ‘Some Things Never Change’: I'm not sure I want things to change at all. These days are precious, can't let them slip away”

Then expresses similar concerns in ‘Into the Unknown’:  “if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for, I fear. Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls. I'm sorry, secret siren, but I'm blocking out your calls. I've had my adventure, I don't need something new. I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you.” This is THE previously established building blocks of Elsa’s character: she loves her family, happy being part of the world she shut out for so long, loves quiet books and being at home, and doesn’t need anything more than she’s got (which is more than she ever expected to have). 

But then, ten seconds later she sings “are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?” Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone. Since when has Elsa felt like she isn’t where she’s meant to be?? That Arendelle and her family wasn’t enough? That she’s never felt like she belonged there? Sure, an hour ago she was distracted during charades because she heard magic music calling to her. But losing a round of charades isn’t reason enough to feel like she doesn’t belong. The siren call seems to be a recent development and something that hasn’t been happening that long or hinted at during her childhood.

She seemed happy and content during ‘Some Things Never Change’, at the ending of the first Frozen, during ‘Olaf’s Frozen Adventure’, and ‘Frozen Fever’. So what the fork happened for Elsa to go from “I’m as settled as I ever want to be and don’t want to risk losing everything I finally have” to “I’ve never felt like I truly belonged and have always wondered where I came from” in the span of a single song?

The missing linchpin to this is Iduna, but more on her later.

Anna gets to love Elsa but we don’t get to see Elsa shower that same type of love to Anna. Let Elsa show Anna some darn affection! Anna cradles Elsa in bed the way their mother used to, soothing her to sleep. She rushes to her side in moments of danger. Elsa, rather characteristically, shows her affection and love for Anna by trying to protect her from danger, even if it means risking herself in the process. But even at the end when she rushes back on the water horse after saving Arendelle, she just stands there, arms outstretched, like the idiot she is. This isn’t the first movie, where it’s the first time they’ve touched since they were kids. They aren’t standing on the newly melted fjord after she discovers the key to her powers for the first time, shyly holding back. Why Disney didn’t have Elsa running into Anna’s arms saying “You did it, I love you,” is just ajkhgajksdhgasycsdmc so frustrating.

To Sporky’s point, sure - Anna’s coronation didn’t have the pomp and ceremony from the first movie, and we don’t know the reason why. Perhaps Anna didn’t want it to be a big deal, that’s why there wasn’t an audience Elsa and Kristoff weren’t present for the actual ceremony, I get it. But for Elsa not to be there at all? For such an important moment for Anna? There needed to be a small sisterly moment. Maybe Elsa giving Anna a pep talk before the ceremony, something that mirrors the one Anna gave her after the left the wreckage of their parents’ ship. What about an “Are you ready?” from the first movie being re-contextualized in an absolutely loving, adoring, supportive tone.Something. Let Elsa be a big sister. Let her be the one to run into Anna’s arms. If she’s trying to follow their mother’s footsteps, what a great place to start, being part of that bridge between Arendelle and the spirits. Let that relationship come full circle and lead to a healthy place. 

And poor Kristoff I felt was a little misserved. As Sporky said, the engagement should have happened at the end of act 1. He got a reindeer friend, yay! (Jason Ritter, great as usual) but I felt like his central conflict was ultimately...Anna’s about Elsa: Again, you're gone off on a different path than mine. I'm left behind wondering if I should follow. When you're gone I'm the one who sees you home. But now I'm lost in the woods and I don't know what path you are on. Where am I, if we're not together forever? Who are Elsa and Anna now if they’re not together forever? 

There are two outtake songs that were cut, which is a shame because they would have helped fill the holes of what’s missing and gnawing at my unsatisfaction.

‘Home’, for Anna, on the surface is a light song about Arendelle and the citizens within it. But lyrics like these: Wandering through the town with everyone doing all of their stuff, Somewhere in my heart I feel I’ve not yet done enough, For these people I know, this place that I love so, My home” sets us up beautifully for the Queen Anna endgame. Anna, who loves her home and loves everyone in it, still doesn’t feel like she’s done enough for them. She wants to give more: to them, to her home. It’s not just about Elsa, Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf. Anna expressing this earnestness connects her to leading her people much more than the ending they give us presenting her as an alternative, the second daughter, the spare queen, the extra (which we know from ‘Just The Spare” outtake from the first film). 

Then the later lyric: I’m grateful for this castle and for everything we’ve got, especially my family. We’ve all been through a lot. I know how fragile things can be. If I lost them, I’d lose me’ (x) calls directly into Anna’s true solo, ‘The Next Right Step’ where she faces this exact fear - the fragility of the family they built. She’s in the dark cave, lost Kristoff, Elsa and Olaf presumably dead, fears losing herself and giving up. Instead she faces that darkness and does what’s right; despite her heartache, she gets up and saves both of her people: Arendelle and the Northuldra. ‘Home’ connects Anna’s fear of losing her family and her desire to give more to her people. It pairs off beautifully with ‘The Next Right Thing’: The life I knew is over. I can't find my direction, I'm all alone. The only star that guided me was you. How to rise from the floor when it's not you I'm rising for?”

“Home” is a perfect setup to the ending, giving Anna more agency to her crown and the happiness and solidity that she’s able to forge in a new arrangement once Elsa leaves. It connects Anna’s journey from the first film (“I’m not alone anymore”) and bridges it into the journey she ultimately goes through in the sequel. 

It’s a good song, a great one for Anna, but ultimate the plot doesn’t suffer without it, so I understand why it was cut for time even though I wish they didn’t. 

But then there’s ‘I Seek the Truth’. In it, Elsa sings to her mother, expressing the unease she feels as her power grows stronger, the questions she’s been feeling, the longing she feels for her mother, her role as queen. She seeks the past through her mother to find the truth of her magic and her identity through the pages of a book her mother left her with clues to the answers. “I seek the truth. What are you teaching me? I'm ready to learn, can't retreat once again. And so I turn to you back then. You left me messages and they hold the key. I need to know what they mean, to know who you want me to be.  How do I come from this land, with a power inside that I can't command? It's growing and speaking a language that I don't understand.” (x)

This, THIS song, perfectly sets up the central conflict of the film; Elsa expressing that she even wonders where her magic came from, who she is, what she was meant for, and what secrets her mother held. Without this song, we’re left with a gaping hole around it. The movie makes the Queen absolutely, vitally central to the plot and the girls' identities (and choices), (in a way that parallels the Father’s from the first film) yet she was somehow strangely absent from all of it. We’re left with a very unsatisfying shape to what’s missing. 

Why does she keep her identity as Northuldra a secret from her children and husband? What is served by leaving that a mystery? Wouldn’t it have been much more interesting if once Frohana made it through the mist, they saw Arendelle soldiers and people bearing the same pattern of the scarf that their mother used to wear? It immediately connects Elsa and Anna to these people much more than the drop later on. It wets their curiosity and plants that seed in Elsa about desiring connecting to the Enchanged Forest and wanting to stay instead of ruling Arendelle. 

I didn’t even realize during the first viewing that the second voice singing in Ahtohallan during ‘Show Yourself” isn’t also Idina Menzel- it’s Iduna dueting. The movie tried to intertwine Elsa’s journey with her mother’s past but ultimately fell short of both. The movie desperately needed a few more moments between Elsa and Iduna. The skeleton is there in ‘I Seek The Truth’ but without it, the movie doesn’t stand straight up. (Whatever, I know that doesn’t fully work but metaphors are hard and you get what I mean)

The ending was supposed to tie Elsa and Anna’s journeys as well as that of Arendelle and the Northuldra together. Others not me (hi helen) have already gotten into the complications of race and lack of stakes the ending presented, but yeah, it super bears repeating that Arendelle should have been destroyed. If anything it would have re-framed Anna’s journey (home about people, giving more to them) and the sisters’ past (rebuilding). That made zero sense. Let there actually be stakes! Were there any stakes? The people were safe. Either the town should have been still filled with people still to give Elsa a reason to save it or let it be destroyed and give Elsa and Anna a reason to build it back up together. Have the flag of Arendelle fly, finally earn it “standing for the good and the many” as they all sung in the beginning during ‘Some Things Never Change’. Let Elsa tell Anna that there’s still more she wants to learn about what it means to be the fifth spirit, so she wants to stay in the north and figure it out. 

Better ending: Anna, the idiot she is, is running around on the bridge she’s actively working on getting destroyed (pot calling the Elsa kettle black for running into danger without thought to her own safety THEY ARE SISTERS FOR A REASON). The dam successfully breaks, but Anna falls into the water. Our other heroine presumed dead. But no! The spirits awaken with the freeing of the waters. Anna’s courage to do the right thing frees Elsa from her frozen state. Elsa falls into the water, knowing instantly what Anna’s done. She also senses the danger and there are two choices in front of her - she can either save Arendelle or her sister, there’s only time for one. Obviously she chooses Anna and rushes to save her as she tumbles into the waters below. Arendelle falls. Elsa and Anna rebuild it together, maybe some of the Northuldra people help, along with Gale and the earth giants. Anna has her coronation, makes vaguely BSDM comments to Kristoff, which Elsa gags at. She says how beautiful Anna looks, so much like their mother, and their parents would be so proud. Elsa leaves, she waves her hand and threads some pretty ice magic jewels into Anna’s crown and says “See you for game night Friday?” and rides off on her horsey. 

Ok, so the gay thing:

They really doubled down on the queer analogy for Elsa. Yes, ‘Into the Unknown’ slaps but I mean, ‘Show Yourself’? Woof. What a gorgeous anthem that clearly parallels ‘Let It Go’ with a message of self-love, pride, and identity. Why didn’t they go further? I get it. It’s Disney. There’s the China market to content with, primarily. But that still leaves us with...its Disney. If ever there was a company that could affort to survive the right-wing and Chinese boycotts, it’s this one. “If Disney really believes in the kind of progressive representation it pretends to stand for, then its choices to barely depict LGBTQ people in its films — while simultaneously winking to let us know that, yeah, Elsa’s totes gay — are more than just irritating. They’re an abdication of the moral code the company vaguely genuflects toward having, in the name of higher profits.”x

I mean, Honeymaren was right there. I want to ship them, but it’s so thin that I can’t even get much further than “they talked like once and it’s an age-appropriate female who isn’t a family member.” Disney was never going to give Elsa a girlfriend, c’mon. But they could have at least given her a girl friend. A connection between the two of them would have made more sense for the ending as well - Elsa deciding to abdicate the throne and stay with the Northuldra. Give Elsa a more tangible connection to the place she chooses over Anna. The minimum they could have done without putting anything at risk would have been queercoding Elsa and Honeymaren, but there wasn’t even enough to give us that. But “where the queer subtext for the character in the first Frozen seemed mostly to arise by accident, it feels more intentional in this movie” and yet also deliberately given a wide berth so that they couldn’t be accused of going anywhere near it.  “To be clear, it continues to be subversive that Elsa is a character defined entirely by her lack of a love interest. I don’t want to discount Frozen 2’s emphasis on Elsa’s powerful independence.” Do I love single Elsa? Heck yes. Am I happy and pleased with that? Absolutely. Did Disney have a great opportunity to also have room for queerness should people want to look for it? Yup. 

So many unanswered questions!  -W H Y does Iduna hide her ancestry from the girls and even Agnarr? (Yes, I get that the first movie was intended to be a standalone film and the sudden success changed everything so retconning is necessary, but still). The actual timeline for their parents is also kind of confusing. Little Iduna saves Little Agnarr. She sneaks away with him to a strange land. They fall in love and get married I guess? When does she tell him who she is and where she came from? Does he ever find out who saved him? Why do neither Iduna or Agnarr seem to guess that Elsa’s powers came from the four spirits? Why do they take a ship to find answers that they seem to already have the ability to know the answers to? Nature magic is in Iduna’s people’s history and culture so what other answers were they seeking to find? Did they think finding out what happened to cause the mists would help Elsa control her powers? -where do the handful of Arendellian soldiers live for 35 years? Why are they still fighting the Northuldra when they are clearly outnumbered. Why do the soldiers and villagers go from hating each other to working together and being together no problem without a single word to each other? -Is Elsa still human? What does being a Fifth Spirit mean aside from retconning an identity crisis and a sudden thirst for adventure? What was the fifth spirit before Elsa took the mantle? What answers did Ahtohallan hold before Elsa & Anna’s grandfather decided to be a huge bitch? The Disney wiki says “Elsa discovers that the voice was the call of Iduna from memories of the past, and that her power was a gift from the magic of nature because of Iduna's selfless act of saving Agnarr, making her the fifth spirit who unites differences. Elsa wields her mother's mantle of the fifth spirit.”(x) Wait, what? Where was Iduna’s magic voice six fucking years ago when their boat went down and after dying presumably found the answers? If Iduna had the mantle of the fifth spirit before Elsa, why the fuck did she take a boat to the middle of death ocean to find answers she knew? Did she know she was the fifth spirit? Do the four spirits just choose a human to imbue magic powers with? I fully get I shouldn’t think about this too hard but making it the answer to everything in the movie makes it rEALLY HARD nOT TO.

Things I loved: -Olaf somehow being endearing and legitimately funny a whole second time -”I don’t want to stop you from being whoever you need to be, I just don’t want you to die trying to be everything to everyone all the time.” Hoo boy, Anna has had yelled that speech to Elsa a thousand times in her head -Elsa’s crying face in ‘Show Yourself’ -the entire ‘Show Yourself’ sequence was just stunning, honestly, visually and emotionally -”I didn’t mean to leave you behind, I just wanted to protect her/keep her safe.” (I forgot the whole line, sorry) Anna it is very sweet of you to say that to Kristoff but honey, you can’t get mad at Elsa for doing the exact same thing you just did like three times -Elsa and Bruni doing the head angle thing as they become best friends -fucking Elsa at charades. How have they been putting up with that for three years.  -QUEEN ANNA OF ARENDELLE -the concept of ‘do the next right thing’ I hate that such a golden message will likely get swallowed up and not given the credit and popularity it deserves -I’m sure there’s a lot more that I can’t remember but I’ve only seen it twice so cut me some slack

-the fact that it’s earth that’s the only spirit that Elsa doesn’t master before Ahtohollan. Interesting that she ‘fails’ there, freezing into the depths of the river, because she went too far alone without earth. She wins over Gale and Bruni, tames the Nokk, but she finds herself at the base of a glacier without earth under her feet. It’s telling, because of course it’is Anna. Anna has always been her rock, her earth, the thing that grounds her. It’s Anna who runs to the earth spirits and demand they follow her. It’s earth that Anna wrestles with to finish what Elsa started. Without grounding, without earth, there can be no balance. My darling fucking idiot girls.

[missartus]

Merry Christmas!

Figured that I should write a post at Christmas, given all the chaos that’s been 2020 lol. Well, for one, Covid’s still here and so it’s still been pretty hard for everyone. Personally, my Christmas obviously changed in a way that it’s more chill this time around. Not that I’m complaining ‘cause this is probably my most preferred way of celebrating the holidays, but I’d rather have a chill Christmas because I wanted it and not because the circumstances forced us to. I didn’t even bother to dress up nor put on some makeup because I was really lazy to do so, and to be honest, the Christmas spirit isn’t really as felt this time around. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who feels this. 

Anyway, I didn’t really intend to make a depressing post LOL. It’s the other way around, actually. I’ve been meaning to write something for a few days now but I’ve been lazy. I actually wanted to say that given all the chaos, thankfully I had a couple of things that kept me sane. They’re mostly new hobbies and interests, and some may come off as a shock, even. So here are my life updates so far. A list of things that helped me survive 2020 😌

Baking

It started with a box of pancake mix. A few months back, I was supposed to make some pancakes for an afternoon snack, but then I was kinda tired with eating pancakes that I wondered if there is any other way I can turn that mix into. I eventually ended up with these hard chocolate turnovers lmao. After that, I was suddenly baking almost every week. So far, I’ve baked coffee buns, lemon bars, pandesal!, pound cakes, cookies (ofc), and cinnamon rolls. I’m targeting to go for naked cakes but I am yet to buy an electric mixer. For someone who hates measurements and all, it’s a shock for me to be into baking. But it’s been so therapeutic for me. The kneading of the dough, the whisking, mixing, the rise, the waiting on the oven — so zen. I guess, it’s cause it keeps my mind off of things, and whenever I bake, I’m just so focused on what I’m doing. So it’s like, I’m in my own bubble of productivity for a long while. Also, I’d say it kinda helps with my self-esteem, as baking has allowed me to prove to myself that I can do something delish. Whenever I look at the finished products, I couldn’t believe that I, me, Mich, me, did that! I think that happened when I made pandesals and when I really liked the cinammon rolls. I was like, “Omg, I can’t believe I did this!” Aside from my fam, I’ve sent a few of my pastries to friends as well, and some say that I should start a business already lol. But that’s so far from my mind right now. I mean, I’d want to, in the future. But not sometime soon. I still want to enjoy this season where I’m plainly learning and enjoying the process of baking. I don’t, and am not, prepared for the pressure and hassle of it all yet. 🤪

Workout

I’ve been working out for a few years now but I wasn’t as consistent as how I’ve been the past couple of months. I used to workout every freaking day, but lately it would just be about thrice or four times a week. My past blog posts would give you a hint about my relationship with my body and food. It hasn’t been really nice in general, but working out really does help me improve my mindset towards my body image. Admittedly, I began working out because I wanted to lose weight, but eventually (and thankfully), it transformed into me working out because it makes me strong and it benefits my mental health a lot. I do a variety, although most times I’d do cardio, then I’ll just pair it up with either weights or another round of cardio but dance.

The process has been fun, and I don’t really pressure myself or limit myself when it comes to food. I still eat whatever’s there, but right now it’s all portion control, really. In all fairness, I think because I’ve been working out, my appetite isn’t as huge as it used to be. I get fuller fast these days, and I rarely binge-eat, unless I re-stock on Korean grocery food hahahaha. Anyway speaking of Korean, here’s my last interest update...

BTS

Yup. As in that K-pop boyband. As in Bangtan Sonyeondan. As in that band who’s taking over the world. What a plot twist, right? I’ve never been into K-pop to begin with, so BTS (and eventually, K-pop in general) is probably my biggest musical plot twist so far. I initially was supposed to write a whole separate blog post about this (because that’s how OBSESSED I AM WITH BTS) but I figured that I’ll just include them in this “life update” entry. But for real, it began back in October, when I saw this screenshot of RM’s WeVerse comment/reply to a fan. I’m pasting it here for reference lol.

For some reason, I was really impressed after seeing this. I’ve known the band for a while already. I know how big they are and I even have friends who are huge fans. I’ve seen a couple of their online content in the past as well, but I think it was this image that made me really realize why they’ve been getting so much attention and why their fanbase just keeps on growing. This was the first time that I “got it”, if you know what I mean. Anyway, a bit after that my ARMY friends messaged me and I was immediately swooped into the world of BTS. I don’t regret any of it though haha! I have so much feelings about this topic (lololol) but I’ll try to hold back. Who knows, I might continue with that separate blog post anyway 💁‍♀️ My bias is Namjoon (my goodness, this man is such a dream), while my bias wrecker is Jimin. Although I think my bias wrecker changes everyday now lmao. 😂 I’ll say this though, it wasn’t their pretty faces that got me. If anything, I think that really comes as secondary, because what made me an Army was their talent, their story, and their character. These boys are really men of substance, and their songs and advocacy can attest to how principled they are. Their songs have also helped me so much as I am still in the process of improving myself, my mental health, and all these introspective things. I remember this one time where I bawled my eyes out when I was reading through the English translation of Answer: Love Myself. In a year when I almost lost myself again due to how depressing this year was, it feels good to root for something, or in this case, someone, and see them flourish in success. They really started at the bottom, and I guess in a way their story also inspires me to keep on doing what I’m doing, knowing that someday, everything will make sense and I’ll finally make it. 

BTS also led me to listen to other K-pop acts as well such as Day6 (another fave!), Monsta X, Shinee, IU, Henry, and BlackPink (very recently hahaha) Ok, I’ll stop right there. 😬 Funny how I just cannot get the K-pop hype for so many years, and now I’m genuinely enjoying it. It’s become my go-to work soundtrip also as I don’t get carried away by singing along to the lyrics as, ofc, it’s in a different language lol.

Plants

I remember last year when my colleagues at work gave me this plant and they assured me that it won’t die but it did. It kinda made me think that I don’t have a green thumb and that I can never maintain a plant. But guess what, I have about 7 plants now and THEY’RE ALL THRIVING SO WELL. I’m so invested in these plant babies and I’m so proud of myself that they’re all so alive and doing well. There were some scares, I admit. Like this one time when I attempted to re-pot my Syngonium Arrowhead and it almost died lol but I re-did it and thankfully it resurrected hahahahaha. Again, just like what I said about BTS and my baking, my plants are also testament to how it feels nice to root for (no pun intended) something and see them thrive, and how it feels so satisfying and reassuring to see something that I’ve been taking care of live healthy and happy. 

So yeah, there’s that. 

Those are what my life has been circling around these days. As I’ve said, I’m very grateful that I got into these things, little as they may seem as compared to others. But hey, they make me happy, and I think at this point in time, as long as something makes you happy and sane, that’s all that matters. You do you, girl. Wow, I can’t believe that I wrote this long. It’s been a while since I did! Anyway, I’m gonna end this here now as it’s getting late and I still have stuff to do. 

Merry Christmas!

[search-for-light]

ShawMila or ShowMila?

ShawMila - the ship name/friendship name (depends who you ask)

ShowMila - the publicity stunt/PR name (personally I find the name's a bit mean and have only used it to present a distinction)

Before I get started, let me make it clear that this post is not an attempt to diss Camila or Shawn. It's simply presenting a personal view point. PRs are not always under the control of the artists involved. That does NOT mean the artists are lying. It's a part of the industry and contracts that fans may not appreciate but should not blame the artists for.

Okay, here we go...

This is almost an old topic since they've been seen together for quite a while now and there have been a lot of speculations. But earlier today I came across a new video on this that I want to share at the end along with my take on the whole thing thus far. It's going to be a long post so bear with me. Or skip to the end for the video. 🤷‍♀️

Shawn and Camila have been friends forever and ever since I Know What You Did Last Summer, fans have been stanning the two. Needless to say, there are A LOT of ShawMila fans and everyone has been aching for a second collab.

The build-up started in June with us getting the first pics leaked and the promos of Señorita began full on. But when everyone saw the music video, it was a frenzy considering how close and steamy the two got. It was every stans' dream. Stans were analysing if the two actually kissed. From my perspective, that's a negative. The overlapping images seemed to be trying to create an illusion of sensuality nothing more. Though there may have been a few light brushes of the lips here and there. Moreover, Camila admitted both she and Shawn very nervous about the whole shoot and said she drank a lot wine to calm herself.

Presuming they were attracted to each other forever as fans claim, shouldn't they have been more excited than nervous to be shooting such a romantic song? Although it's reasonable for one to be more nervous kissing a friend or someone you've considered your brother the way Camila has. 🙃

That was just the start. A bunch of Shawn and Camila pictures together began making the rounds almost immediately where the two seemed to be awfully close, almost intimate, with each other. This is what made it highly suspicious. Just the timing of it all. Camila had been papped with Matthew as late as May and there was hardly any time after that when the split was announced.

Of the many photos that came out, the infamous cactus pic has to be one of the most bizarre. Shawn looks right at the pap. They know they are going to get snapped so they hang around and give the pap exactly what he could sell.

An interesting anon conversation on the blog @ashotofblues revealed that you need a permit to take pictures at a residential area. So those paps were there because they were invited to take the pictures.

On July 6th videos came out of fans asking Shawn on his tour if he's dating Camila Cabello to which he furiously shakes his head *no*.

July 13, a video of Shawn and Camila kissing in a cafe is leaked. It starts with Shawn awkwardly looking around and adjusting himself and Camila seems to ready herself and face him. And Shawn puts his arm around her and they start brushing against each other's face? To be honest, I *really* wanted to see them share a kiss but this was the most awkward two people have looked kissing each other that I've EVER seen. It felt like they had never kissed anyone in their life. I almost feel bad for them. Another odd thing about this video was that there was literally no reaction from the person capturing this rare moment. And they managed to be set up at the right place at the right time. Strange we didn't see more of that. Why did they stop recording?

A few days after we get yet another leaked picture of the two kissing.

Close up I found on Twitter but sourced to @ashotofblues:

The kiss looks like something you'd see two children attempt. Or what kissing your "brother" might look like. 😭 (Unless you're the Lannisters)

Fans have tried to get Shawn Mendes to admit he's dating Camila in various ways but he simply ignores the question. In a latest video, he simply walked out of the Q&A session.

Maybe I'm different but if I was dating someone and we were caught together and he was avoiding answering questions about us, I would find that HIGHLY FISHY and almost as though he's ashamed to have been caught seen with me. But maybe that's me? Then again if I was trying to keep my relationship on the down low, I wouldn't be making out in public places to begin with. If celebs WANT to be secretive, they have people who make it possible. If they want to be spotted, their people make that possible as well.

I don't believe Shawn is that jerk of a guy to deny someone he's actually in a relationship with. The only way I can explain all of his behaviour is that this is an obvious publicity stunt but he can't exactly admit to it. That would defeat the purpose and would be in violation of his contract. Nor does he want to lie to his fans and claim he is dating Camila. At least I don't believe he would lie. It would be easier to simply ignore the question altogether. Fans will make of it whatever they will. When he said no, I believed him but his management just messed up and didn't prep him for the questions. Even when he was asked about love, he seemed flustered.

Back in January, he tweeted these specific lyrics which I found interesting.

There are other things that fans have tried to prove as signs that they are in a relationship. Him liking her posts on Instagram instantly. Do fans not realise that often the posts are not even posted by the artist themselves but they have social media managers for that sort of thing? I have never been able to like even a friend's post in a matter of seconds let alone Shawn liking them while he was supposed to be on stage.

Another was him following a jewellery account which fans tied to him buying Camila a necklace that she had apparently been wearing for a week already. PRs are MADE for fans like these. It helps both artists increase sales and currently both are the 2nd and 3rd most listened artists on Spotify.

Even though I love both as artists and genuinely ship their friendship, I find it a little hard to believe this is something other than a PR. I don't hold it against them. It's part of their contract and not in their control. However, sometimes these can be intense and affect the health of the artists involved which is why I try not to focus on it as much as their music which is why I'm a fan in the first place. Everything else is secondary.

Finally, coming to the video that motivated me to writing this post.

Do remember that they are human beings. We don't know what they are going through except what they allow us to see. Please do not use my views or views of others as a reason to harass them. If you like them, support them as artists. Because they have value beyond their relationships.

[clericbyers]

okay but present day byler listening to chasing cars together and laying on wills bed and that’s where mike realizes he loves him

“I made a new playlist if you’re down to listen,” Will points out one day while he and Mike are lazing about outside on the porch. Mike’s kicking his Vans through the dirt before him and coughing out the dust that catches in his throat.

“Yeah, sure,” he wheezes out, “you always have the best song order in your lists than anyone else.”

Will laughs. “You only like my ordering because your favorite songs are almost always first.”

“You know me too well.” Mike grins up at his friend and feels his heart do that funny flip thing it’s been practicing recently. If recently could be at least the past five years or so, sure.

Mike kicks dirt again and climbs fully to his feet. “You know you’re lucky Lucas isn’t here and you’re wearing just Vans.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’d murder you for kicking your feet around with Air Maxs on, especially the 270 React.”

Mike sticks out his tongue playfully, which makes Will roll his eyes before motioning for Mike to follow him inside. It’s just them today; Joyce is out working, Hopper is at the station, Jonathan got hired to take photos all day for some Instagram influencer in Indianapolis, and Elle is out with her girlfriend Max in the city. Mike always feels a little nervous being alone with Will these days. It’s mostly anxiety in his head brought by silly daydreams of maybe holding his best friend’s hand as they sit on the porch, or of kissing him every time they see each other, small pecks and long hungry kisses that each encapsulate everything he’s wanted for a long time.

Mike often wonders if he’s projecting in some fashion, taking out all his gay feels and pressing them on Will since they’re the closest in the Party. It’s no secret where Mike’s interests lie (if the rainbow pin he wore everywhere didn’t broadcast it enough, the rainbow flag in his room was a big, well, flag. Plus, Mike almost always referred to himself as the secondary gay in town, only second to Will), but absolutely no one knows how he feels about Will. Mike’s not even sure either and that’s the worst part.

If he can get a handle on what exactly all his thoughts toward Will mean, if he’s sure he’s not taking out his celebrity crush on Jake Gyllenhaal on Will, then maybe something could be done.

Will plops down onto his bed and starts scrolling through his phone. Mike stands in the doorway for a second longer, watching Will’s fingers grip the sides of his phone before one hand reaches up to brush freshly cut bangs from his head. Mike’s heart catches on a beat and gets lost in the rhythm of Mike’s turbulent emotions.

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” Will asks with a small chuckle. “I don’t bite.”

“Oh good,” shoots back Mike as he makes his way to Will. “I thought you were a cannibal.”

Will leans over and nips lightly at Mike’s bare arm. His tongue dances across Mike’s skin for just a moment and Mike’s face turns vibrant pink. Will though makes a face and pulls away with a groan. “If I was a cannibal, I wouldn’t eat you.”

“Am I too stringy?”

Will shrugs. “If I ate you then I wouldn’t be able to hang with you every day. I can hold off the temptation for eternity as long as you’re still here.” Mike is going to combust. “Plus, you taste gross.”

“Haha.” The curly haired boy tightens the scrunchie holding his hair back in a loose ponytail—courtesy of Elle—before laying down beside Will. “C’mon, let’s listen to this playlist of yours.”

Will turns on his Bluetooth speaker and then starts up the music. He settles in next to Mike and they both stare into each other’s eyes until Will starts giggling and then closes his eyes as he hums along to the music. They both alternate between humming and singing along, butchering lyrics on purpose and Mike belting out whatever he can when Mr. Brightside and 19-2000 plays.

“Oh,” Will perks when an unfamiliar guitar riff starts playing. “This is the last song; I found it recently. I think you’ll like it.”

Mike opens his eyes and clears out his head enough to take a listen.

We’ll do it all; everything, on our own.

“The melody is nice,” he replies somewhat distractedly. The calmness of this opening has him a little by the throat, and he’s anticipating a rise in energy once the drums start but he still takes in the simplistic instrumentation this far in.

We don’t need; anything, or anyone.

Fair enough.

If I lay here, and Mike snorts to himself given he and Will are just laying around themselves, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Mike feels his throat clench at that. That hits a little too close to home. He chances a glance at Will, who has his eyes closed and oh, oh, there goes Mike’s heart again doing those dumb cartwheels in his chest because Will looks so content and happy being here with Mike.

I don’t quite know; how to say, how I feel.

Mike feels the bottom drop out his stomach. Fuck.

Those three words are said too much; they’re not enough.

Those three words…those three words. Oh. Yeah. Mike stares up at the ceiling and takes in a deep breath. Yeah, it’s—it’s not enough is it? Not really. Will knows Mike loves him, everyone knows Mike loves his friends but this…emotion that consumes Mike unwillingly when Will just glances at him? Those three words really aren’t enough after all.

If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Will fidgets and peaks open an eye before sending Mike a sleepy smile.

Forget what we’re told, before we get too old.

Mike thinks back to their younger years, when all the adults in town admonished him for being so close to Will, for daring to show interest in other boys outside of friendship. How they told him he couldn’t like boys, that it was wrong and evil even now in this century despite what big city life promoted. So he came out in 8th grade, wore rainbow pins and socks and anything he could, went with Nancy into the big city to buy a pride flag in 9th grade, went to prom with his (very short term) boyfriend in 10th grade, and promptly ignored everything he had been taught before about it being wrong to like who he liked.

He won’t grow old enough to be unable to escape the rhetoric. None of the Party will.

Show me a garden that’s bursting into life.

Will opens his other eye and scoots in just a bit closer. Mike can feel the heat from his leg even though they aren’t touching at this distance. He thinks he might passing out if he can’t get his breath back.

Let’s waste time chasing cars around our heads.

Mike feels a little fuzzy now, almost punch drunk from Will’s closeness. He scoots in too, turns on his side to face Will a little better. Will turns as well and now they lie so close, knees knocking together and barely enough space between their faces. Will’s bed is far too small for two people, but right now it seems just about the perfect size.

I need your grace to remind me to find my own.

“Mike?” Will whispers, too gentle in the rising beat of the song.

Mike can’t stop thinking; he can’t shut off his brain, it’s only processing one thing and it’s putting a label to those stupid emotions that have been consuming him since they were kids. The emotion that he knows is more than friendship for the past five years. But now…

“I’m in love with you.”

If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Will is crying. No sobs, no messiness, just one of those uncontrollable smiles framed by sweet wetness dripping from his eyes. Mike leans forward to brush the tears from his best friend’s face, no, not just his best friend, someone he loves more than any words could detail.

Forget what we’re told, before we get too old.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

There’s something so liberating about saying it aloud, something so freeing about hearing something known since they first sat on the swings together and decided to become friends. Mike feels like his life is starting all over again now that he’s basking under the rays of Will’s returned affections.

Show me a garden that’s bursting into life.

The garden, it’s his heart, tended to by the only boy he’s ever truly loved.

All that I am, all that I ever was, and Mike takes Will’s hands in his own as the other boy blushes slightly, is here in your perfect eyes.

Perfect green eyes that go soft at the edges and look blue under the right lighting, expressive big eyes that echo everything Mike’s ever felt like twin mirrors reflecting his soul.

They’re all I can see.

Mike can’t look away now, if ever. God, he’s so in love, huh. It took him this long to realize it.

I don’t know where. Confused about how as well.

How did Mike fall anyway? He doesn’t know. It wasn’t much of a fall anyway, more of a sink, a slow dip into deep rich waters lavishing the beaches of his mind. Gentle waves of reminders about how much different Mike feels toward Will, but never a label until now. Now, there’s only love crashing to shore and Mike accepts the waves with the ease of a Californian surfer.

Just know that these things will never change for us at all.

Nothing’s changed. Nothing has ever changed really.

“If I lay here,” Will whispers with the last verse of the song, singing just enough to keep the pitch but breathy with emotion he can’t contain. “If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Mike smiles and he knows it’s the dopey one, he can’t help himself, but Will is going pink and he’s so lovely. Mike’s sure Will knows his verbal answer so he shows it instead, closing the gap with a kiss that should have happen years ago. But things happen for a reason, and now, Mike decides as Will clamps his fists into Mike’s shirt and deepens the kiss until only the sound of their slow but needy kissing takes the room after the song ends, is the perfect time and reason for it all.