#syd doesn’t want to let go of the world they built together

[ciaomarie]

GIF by lousolversons

What do you do when the person who has unknowingly shaped your dreams and then made you part of his dreams disappears? And he's two feet away? I'd fade, too. I'd scream my grievances in a dumpster and wonder if I simply expected too much of someone. People die and leave you. People find a girlfriend and leave you. People are dealing with issues and leave you. And... maybe they were never really with you in the first place?

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

Neil Josten's Playlist Part 6 - For Himself

Masterpost and link to the playlist in its entirety here

A lot of the songs Neil keeps are just for him. Sometimes you need to be in your feelings a bit and music is the only place you're comfortable doing that.

2. Shrike - Hozier

After he initially found Hozier, this boy didn’t listen to anything else for weeks straight if he could help it. Shrike I think is just a song that he loves the sound of. Pretty much the only thing we know in canon about Neil’s music taste is that he doesn’t like loud music. Which is incredibly vague and generalizing. To me, that tells me that Neil maybe is actually someone who tends to pay most attention to and by most effected by the sound of a song than the theme or lyrics or genre or anything. If he doesn’t like the sound, he doesn’t like the song. But a sound that appeals to him? Oh boy, he won’t be able to let it go. Shrike is like that for him. It’s gentle and smooth and I imagine he doesn’t pay too much attention to the lyrics or meaning. He just lets himself get lost in the sound.

11. Best Part - Daniel Caesar & H.E.R.

Not too much to say about this. It’s soft and beautiful and smooth, and I think Neil would greatly appreciate the sound. It’s a bit too soft for him to associate with Andrew, but he doesn’t need the association to enjoy it. Neil listens to it on his morning runs when the sun is only just rising and the world is still moving slowly. But he also listens to it on slower mornings when Andrew convinces him to forgo the morning run in favor of breakfast and coffee on the couch with the cats.

17. Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

Like some others on this list, this is a song that catches Neil wholly for its sound. Like the title, listening to this song feels a little like getting lost in a dream. There's just something very soft about it, and those are the kinds of songs that catches Neil's attention. He likes that he's found something he can get lost in for a time without losing himself.

27. Hallelujah - Rufus Wainwright

As incredible of a song this is, the origin of Neil's connection to it isn't anything super emotional. The foxes made him watch Shrek. He became very attached to this song and would listen to it on repeat for weeks afterwards. They all got so sick of it. His aux cord privileges were revoked. Matt doesn't need to start CRYING while he's DRIVING Neil, THANK YOU.

As for his connection to it, a big trend I'm seeing in the stuff that I think Neil listens to is that a lot of it is very emotional. Sad songs, moving melodies, beautiful ballads. I think Neil listens to music to help him feel his emotions - like really feel them. He's so good at compartmentalizing and shoving everything down and away (as per the trauma of running for the better half of his life), I think listening to emotional music - like really listening to it all - as a means of getting in touch with the emotions he's always shoving aside would be a great coping mechanism for him. To that degree songs like this just strike a cord with Neil, even if there isn't any parallel to draw between the lyrics and his own life. A song is a package of emotion that Neil can hear and unpack and process at his own pace while retaining a safe degree of separation.

30. Obstacles - Syd Matters

Not a whole lot to say about this one. Neil finds it somehow - either through one of his foxes or just on his own - and he finds it incredibly calming. He keeps it close. It makes him hopeful even on days when he can't bring himself to look in the mirror. The steady melody and repeating words help him get lost in something other than his own thoughts.

35. Ashes On Your Eyes - Deb Talan

This is one Neil found on his own. It doesn't remind him of any of his foxes, though, or his mother. It's one of the few songs he has just for himself. It serves as a reminder that he's going to be okay. He has a great support system, but sometimes he likes to find comfort in himself just to prove that he can still do it. Songs like this keep him going on those days where he doesn't want to bring his problems to others.

37. Rivers and Roads - The Head and the Heart

This is one Neil gets his hands on in his final year at Palmetto, but it isn't just about Andrew for him (like most of the others from this year). This one is about all his foxes - his family. It's about how lonely he feels even when he has a whole group of people he lives and plays and interacts with on a daily basis. They aren't his people; his people are scattered everywhere. He only learned how to be a real person after he met them. Now he needs to learn to do it on his own. There's a special kind of pain that comes when he thinks of how much he misses each of them.

39. Unsteady - Ambassador X

This song is one Neil thinks of often when he's having bad days. He'll still always end up having some days where he doesn't feel like a real person, and on those days it can be hard to ground himself - to keep from floating away and giving up on everything he's built to run back to being nothing. What helps him most on those days is not being alone. It takes him a long time, though, to learn how to communicate what his needs are on those days. It's pretty lucky that Andrew can read him so well, but during the years when they aren't living together it becomes very hard for Neil to find the words to ask for help. This song helps him with that. The chorus is so short and to-the-point but is still such a bare-bones lay of emotion and need that it centers Neil enough to realize that he doesn't need to explain himself or mince his words when he's asking for help. He just needs to ask.

42. Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) - Green Day

The downside to having the music taste that Neil does is that sometimes he latches onto something that is apparently a bit cheesy or overplayed, and the foxes gladly tease him for liking it unironically. This is definitely one of those songs. It doesn't matter to him that it was basically everyone's 8th grade graduation song (he didn't get one of those anyway, Matt.) He listens to this and thinks of the passage of time and how hard it's going to be when his foxes are scattered all over the country while he's stuck alone in Palmetto. But they'll be happy, and he'll be happy soon enough after that. They'll all move forward but it doesn't mean they'll lose each other (he has to repeat that to himself on bad nights).

The completely serious way he listens to this song is funny to the foxes at first, but Nicky is the first to break down crying when it stops being funny. He's also the only one to break down crying, but that doesn't mean the others don't get emotional too. ("Jesus, Neil, you got a whole team of collegiate athletes getting emotional over the time-of-your-life song. How much more of a fucking weirdo enigma can you be??" -Andrew at some point probably)

47. Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.

Neil has some pretty intense, pretty specific trauma. Plenty of people in the world have experienced terrible things and it isn't a competition. Neil knows this. However, he's also painfully aware that he's someone who pulled the right numbers in the shit lottery. Sometimes it helps to hear this song.

He knows that maybe his own life experiences were not anything close to what the songwriter had in mind, but it still helps. It helps to remember that he isn't the only person in the world who has terrible days. It even helps to know that people outside of the foxes have bad days. It helps to find a way to feel connected to the larger population of the world. It's a definite new thing for him - feeling like he's allowed to belong in the world - but it's very comforting at times.

54. Lights Up - Harry Styles

((I wish I could remember who made a post once saying this was a very Neil song because that was how I first heard it and I wish I could credit that person. Alas, it was over a year ago when I first read the books and didn't recognize any usernames yet :/ if anyone knows who that is lmk!!))

There are a lot of things Neil doesn't know about himself. There are a lot of things from freshman year and before that he still feels some level of guilt for. But ultimately he doesn't regret a single choice he's made. There are a whole lot of things he's still figuring out about his life. He heard this song and really vibed with the sound and what it was saying. Not much more to say than that. He's found himself in a light that he's happy to stay and figure himself out in.

66. Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles

Mary was a bit of a Beatles fan. There were several of their songs she'd play on their long drives when they weren't being immediately tailed.

This wasn't one of them. She skipped this one, every single time. Neil fully understands why. For all the indulgence she gave herself in the music she listened to, this one seemed to cross a line she couldn't handle.

Now Neil listens to it on morning runs and good days. And he lets himself feel okay.

71. Fall on Me - R.E.M.

Neil's had plenty of people trying to hurt him throughout his life. He's never really gotten help from people he was supposed to get it from. And now he has a whole family of people who have experienced similar abandonment.

Sometimes that pisses him off.

Sometimes he just really wishes the world was a softer place. Andrew would say it's dumb to wish, especially for something like that. And he'd be right. But it doesn't stop Neil from thinking it sometimes.

73. Hat and Feet - Fountains of Wayne

Sometimes you're just beaten down and worn out. Just once in a while, Neil wants to let himself feel this without feeling terrible and lost for it. This song helps with that.

Sometimes you're just a hat and feet, and that's okay.

[thirdwheelerjames]

the blue you once knew

Read on AO3

If his new haircut makes him look too much like a modern Syd Barret, then Remus won’t mention it, because being around Sirius already feels like a tragedy, and voicing his thoughts may tempt fate to take action. He smiles unconvincingly and takes a drink of his soda, too sweet and unsavory. Sirius has already turned around, digging into the fridge for a drink of his own while speaking loudly about some terrible music video he had to endure while he was getting his hair cut.

Remus doesn’t pay attention anymore, even if he tries. He tries so hard to listen to every word Sirius says that he ends up forgetting them a second later. It’s like trying to grasp time and hold onto it, but its continuously, endlessly, slipping through his fingers. Loudly, miserably. And most days now he just feels like giving up, crying, and hugging Sirius for dear life because he’s got this imminent feeling that something wrong is going to happen again. He knows exactly what that is, but the mere thought of it makes him physically nauseous and like throwing himself down the stairs.

Sirius crashes the bottle on the counter and Remus is almost surprised it doesn’t break into pieces. Everything feels so intense lately it’s astonishing that the ceiling doesn’t fall over their heads with Sirius’ sheer presence in the room.

“Are you okay, Rem?”, he asks. Remus presses the palms of his hands against his eyes before Sirius calls him a crying girl. He is the one you should be asking Sirius whether he is okay.

He mumbles an answer noncommittally and counts his breathes. When he’s sure, or as sure as he can be, that he won’t burst into tears, Remus puts his hands down, but avoids Sirius eye in order to take another drink.

“Remus. Remus, I’m here… for you”.

He says it as if he knows. As if he knows that there’s this gigantic cloud over their heads, waiting for the point of inflection for the flood to drown them. Drown Remus, really.

“For how long?”, he whispers, so quietly he isn’t sure Sirius heard him.

However, Sirius’ shaky breath is response enough, and Remus’ traitorous eyes glisten with unshed tears. He feels Sirius’ fingers wrap around his wrist and he stretches his index finger until he can feel Sirius’ pulse point, beating rhythmically, alive. He raises his eyes to the needle mark on Sirius’ arm.

He is alive, Remus repeats to himself. It has become a bit of a mantra that lulls him to sleep and forces him to wake up. He’s not gone. He’s not gone yet.

“I’m here now, Rem”. The hand on his wrist leaves his skin, but is soon replaced with two arms around him, hugging him so tightly Remus can feel the air leave his lungs, but that’s fine, because it’s another proof that Sirius is still with him. “I’m here a-and I’m not leaving”.

Remus stands from his sit at the counter and returns the hug, hiding his face in the crook of Sirius’ neck and letting the tears stain his friend’s shirt. He sobs for he doesn’t know how long. He can feel a wet spot on his shoulder from Sirius’ own tears. This is one of his favorite shirts, a white tee with some boy-band on it that his mom bought from a thrift store as a gift. Now it’s stained with Sirius eyeliner-dark tears, and he can only think that that fact makes it better. His bitter mind tells him that there’s a memory he can keep when time finally slips out of his control and the inevitability of what he’s living crashes over him.

I don’t want you to die, Remus wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat and he just clutches Sirius tighter and sobs harder.

Soon enough the moment breaks when James pushes the door opened and bursts into the room with more drinks and some takeout. He’s smiling brightly, but his face darkens when he sees Remus rubbing his eyes.

“Is everything alright?”

Remus feels like laughing hysterically, but also like leaving the room so he does the latter because he doesn’t want to talk. He walks with his face down until he is out of Sirius’ hotel room and onto his own, just a couple of doors down the hallway and blessedly empty. He’s crying again before he reaches the handle and by the next day, he can’t tell how long it took his tired eyes to give off to sleep.

-

Sirius is still alive two months later when they arrive to London for some pretentious performance in a pretentious bar. It’s just one show because they’re taking things slow after Sirius overdosed the summer before and everyone is too scared to go back to their usual rhythm.

He’s alive when they go to Berlin three weeks later, and Remus buys them tickets to see the Philharmonic. There’s a beautiful smile on his face when he tells Remus how much of a dork he is, full of fondness and love. And he’s alive when Remus drags him to his room and kisses his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and then between his legs, not able to waste a moment longer without letting Sirius know how much he loves him.

He’s alive six months later, when the morning sun wakes Remus up in Majorca and the light hits Sirius face just so that he looks more like a marble masterpiece than a fallen angel. Sirius wakes up blinking slowly, smiling blindingly at Remus and hides his face on the pillow. It’s bliss, it’s sheer happiness and content and it takes Remus a moment to actually believe it’s happening, and acknowledge that it’s not his brain conjuring up an illusion to handle the pain.

Remus sits up on the bed and runs his fingers through Sirius’ hair. He untangles every knot until he can run them freely in the mess of black strands. For the first time in over a year Remus feels like he can breathe without shattering the world built around them.

Sirius stirs and moves his head until it rests on Remus chest.

“Morning”, his lover mumbles sleepily.

Remus saves his answer by moving down the bed so that he’s level with Sirius and can peck his mouth. He moves towards Sirius’ neck, leaving kisses all the way and enjoying the sound of Sirius’ breath quickening.

“What do you want to do today?”, Remus asks, directing his path towards Sirius chest and stopping for a second to playfully bite his neck.

“Mm, you know what I want”, Sirius answers, tangling his fingers in Remus hair with the smallest pressure. Remus takes the sign alright and the only words that fill their bedroom for the next minutes are the moans and whines that come from Sirius’ mouth.

Remus returns to his position at the head of the bed after his lover is sated beside him. He holds onto him tightly, never taking for granted a moment with Sirius. Never after the agony he felt months ago, when Sirius took more drugs than food and drank more beer than water. Not after he found him lying unconsciously on his hotel room or after he saw him gray and pale under the hospital lights.

It’s bliss now, but he knows the road has been tumultuous and barely bearable most days. Sirius still goes to NA meetings weekly and meets a therapist twice a month. Remus does too. The first days, he had to physically restrain him from falling again. And while those days will never be truly over, he knows they are much stronger than they were before and after confessing his undying love to Sirius that blessed night in Berlin, their relationship has only managed to strengthen.

“Alright there, love?”, Sirius asks, nuzzling his nose against his cheek.

Remus turns his head and meets Sirius with a short kiss. Whatever else might come, he’s sure they’ll be able to carry on together.

[roominthecastle]

Craig Mazin’s general theory on screenwriting

There is nothing honest or truthful about rigid structural forms. Robotically following a template (e.g. Syd Field’s 3-act structure or Chris Vogler’s hero's journey) likely results in a well-structured bad script. What real writers follow are their characters, and what great writers follow are their characters as they evolve around a central dramatic argument that is meaningful to other human beings.

Structure is not a tool, it is a symptom; it is a symptom of a character's relationship with the central dramatic argument.

Structure isn't something you write well, it is something that happens because you wrote well. There is a lot of what and when in structural templates but if we don't know why these are there, how are we supposed to know how to write them? "What's my motivation?" may be a cliché but it is the key to structure: what is the purpose of the narration?

Narration helps us move through a changing world; story is about a change of state and there are three basic axes on which change can occur:

internal: the character’s thoughts and feelings; it zigzags all over the place.

interpersonal: the main relationship; usually starts neutral then, depending on how the story unfolds, it can dip, rise, plummet, spike.

external: the plot; usually a straight line with a start and an end.

Narration is made up of scenes and follows the Hegelian dialectic: we take a thesis (”[x] is true”) and apply an antithesis (”no, [x] is not true and here's why”). What results from this collision is a new thesis called the synthesis which starts the whole process over again.

Every scene begins with a truth, something happens inside that scene that challenges it, a new truth emerges at the end, then we begin again. At the beginning of every scene we have a situation involving the three basic axes of change and we fire an antithesis at least at one of them to create something new. This is what story is -- constant changes. And the glue that holds these changes together is called the theme (or unity, first used by Aristotle in Poetics).

The purpose of the story is to take the main character from ignorance of the truth of the theme to the embodiment of the theme through action.

The theme is the central dramatic argument that has to be an actual argument (e.g. “life is beautiful even amidst horrors”) and not a vague concept (e.g. “brotherhood”) because a script without a central dramatic argument feels empty and pointless. But you probably don't want to start with the argument as it is a weird way to begin a script. Usually, we think of an idea first but then we should ask, "What central dramatic argument fits with this?" and, ideally, you should think ironically here, e.g.

idea: “a fish has to find another fish somewhere in the ocean”

central dramatic argument: “no matter how much you want to hold onto someone you love, sometimes you have to let them go”

While the argument sounds pretty cliché, it is great to pair with the idea because it contains irony, i.e. the outcome of reunion will be a separation. This is thematic structure and it guides the writing process. And you can always have a really good script built around a cliché. It’s the execution around the cliché that should be interesting, that’s what matters.

Usually we introduce our protagonist in an ordinary world but ordinary doesn’t equal mundane. It just means that the protagonist's life exemplifies their ignorance of the theme (central dramatic argument); in fact, typically, they believe the opposite, the anti theme. This ignorance is likely what enabled them to achieve a stasis that is not a perfect life, it's not the best life they could live, it is just the life they settled for; an “acceptable perfection”.

Without the writer’s "divine nudge", their life could go on like this forever, so our job is to undermine it via an inciting incident. It is a moment designed to disrupt a character's stasis, making the continuation of their specific "acceptable perfection" impossible and begin their transformation. It is genetically engineered to break this character's soul and destroy them. Everything the character does at this stage is in service of trying to recapture the stasis that's been destroyed. So your heroes, on some level, should be cowards in a manner of "I don't want things to change, please just let me be."

Underlying that attitude is fear and fear in your character is the heart of empathy. We feel for characters when we fear with them. Every protagonist fears something and this fear, the vulnerability, is our connection to a character. And the fearful hero should have lived their lives to avoid the thing they are afraid of. We are taking their safety blanket away and pushing them forward; they wanna get back what they lost and they wanna go backwards. This tension is what propels us through the second act portion of the story.

When you think about plot as something to jam characters into, that's when you run out of road around the second act. You run out of plot because it wasn't generated by anything other than you. A story is a journey during which characters grow from thinking one way to thinking the opposite. You are the parent with a lesson to teach them but the characters have to make these choices. If you write with that in mind, when you start thinking about plot as something that you are doing to your characters, that's when you can lead them from anti theme to theme, and you never have to ask "What should happen next?" only "How can I make what happens next better?" But how do we teach characters?

First, by reinforcing the anti theme. The protagonist is knocked out of their stasis and they are trying to get back to it. They are going to experience new things and these should reinforce their belief in the anti theme, making them want to get back to their stasis even more. We are basically creating a torture chamber here. We write a world where we oppose our character's desires and by doing so, we reinforce their need to go backwards. We design moments of push-and-push-back. We keep forcing them forward but also put things in their path that make them wanna go back. This creates tension, which is exciting, and when they get past those obstacles, it will be meaningful.

Then comes the element of doubt. The protagonist still believes the anti theme, so they need to run into something or someone that exemplifies the opposite, the theme. When they get a glimpse of this other way of living, they realize there is value to it, it is attractive to them, and their belief in the anti theme wavers. This doubt creates a natural internal conflict. The protagonist is rational as in that they have to have at least the capacity to see that there is a better way to live, which is a critical component. And it is fear that separates the irrational hero from their rational potential. Through circumstance, necessity, or another character's actions, the hero experiences a moment of acting in harmony with the theme. This could be something they do or they could watch someone else do it (active vs passive experience), and it brings about the magical midpoint change.

The protagonist's belief system has been challenged but there is no willingness to go all the way and believe the theme yet. They may not even understand the theme yet but they are already wondering if the anti theme they’ve been clinging to really answers or solves everything. And the very moment the protagonist considers the possibility of switching sides, you hammer them back in the other direction. The story has to make them shrink back into their "old way" and thus the hero retreats. This is the essence of dramatic reversal.

Something unexpected and contradictory/ironic works best here. This punishment makes the eventual completion of the journey that much more impressive. The further you go here, the more you feel at the end. When you design obstacles, lessons, glimpses of the other way, rewards, punishments, the beating back and pushing forward, keep thinking ironically. Think of surprises that twist the knife. If they have to face their fear, make it overwhelming. Don't disappoint, punish. Make characters lower their defenses by convincing them that everything is going to be okay, then punch them right in the face -- metaphorically. As a writer, you are the Old Testament God. Ask the questions "Where is my protagonist on their quest between theme and anti theme?" and "What would be the meanest thing I could do to them right now?" Then do that over and over again until they are left without a belief. As the demands of the narrative begin to overwhelm the protagonist, they begin to realize that their limitations are not physical but thematic.

This is when the other side begins to seem increasingly reasonable but they still cannot embrace it. They are given a chance to do so but they fail at it because they still cannot quite accept the theme. They just lost their belief in the anti theme. They are trapped between rejection of the old and acceptance of the new because the old way doesn’t work anymore and the new seems insane/unattainable. This is why they call this a low point. The original goal of going back to stasis is blown to bits. Whatever they believed at the beginning has been exposed as a sham but the enormity of the real goal is impossibly daunting. The protagonist cannot yet accept the theme because it is too scary. Their core values are gone but they aren’t ready to replace them with new ones. The protagonist is lost. What we need from drama is moments where we connect to another person's sense of being lost because we've all been lost. This will make the ending work. In absence of this there can be no catharsis.

Characters develop as they move through the narrative. The narrative is gonna impact their relationship to the theme. When a character finishes interacting with this portion of the narrative, their relationship to the theme or central dramatic argument changes from "I don’t believe that" to "I don't believe what I used to but I cannot believe this new stuff yet, either." If we think in terms of acts, this happens around the end of the second act, and it ushers in the defining moment when the character needs to face their greatest challenge and worst fear. This resolves the story being told and the life of the character; it brings them to a new stasis and balance (=synthesis).

You have to design a moment that's gonna test the protagonist's faith in the theme. They have to go through something to prove they believe in this new theme. It's not enough to say "I get it, I was wrong." They have to prove it via action and in a way where they literally embody the new theme with everything they have. Before that, there is another round of torture, the relapse, which is a temptation right before their big decision/defining moment. We hold up their safety blanket and say, "Go ahead, character. Take it and go back to your old ways." They have to reject this and do something extraordinary to embody the truth of the theme. They have to act in accordance with the theme and by doing so, they prevail.

We have to create a mechanism to tempt and then force action. It also produces one last chance to punish the character: they experience the cost of embracing the new theme and they don’t back down, they demonstrate their faith in it, which brings a reward. Finally, after many collisions of many theses and antitheses, there is one big final synthesis which we need to see: the after-story life in harmony with the central dramatic argument. If you remove everything in between the first and last scene, there should only be one fundamental difference: in the beginning, the protagonist acts in accordance of the anti theme and at the end it is replaced by the theme.

There is really only one big act and it's called your story.

[chicoryandbananas]

Legion and Syd and the Self Made Villain

Farukh was King the dog first because his first plan was to get David to love him. He’d be loyal to David all his life. He’d been a comfort, a constant, judgment-less companion. He’d be subservient, sure, as a dog. He’d really be a dog. David’s dog. So he’d lack the language, the creativity, the insight to really use their shared powers and shape reality like David would grow to do. But he’d always be welcome in David’s presence, all their shared life long. He would Exist and be cherished by a god. He would love, he would live, and so would David. It would be enough. Loved and content and full. That’s the Story of Frizzy Top. King’s job was to swallow David’s joy. His joy was so strong, back at the beginning. He would laugh and the stars would shiver and fall like fireworks. So Farukh swallowed it down if it bubbled up too big. He protected the people around David from deadly, falling stars. They were beautiful but terrible. David’s first laugh killed Mother. His father couldn’t stop it or fix it. So he was lost to despair. He put David away somewhere he’d never again feel so much joy that the world would burn. Luckily, the new place was empty and David’s joy was rare until they built a sister and a new mother and father and had things once more to be joyful about. The joy was too much sometimes for Farukh and the power slipped out and the sky swirled a moment with color and his voice skipped around the room. But it didn’t happen much. They barely burped up any butterflies, even for Amy. Because dogs have amazing capacities for happiness. So Farukh was a dog first to protect David from joy. Finally Farukh plugged up the joy for good and they were safe, the world was safe. But then, joy having dimmed, David grew angry. So Farukh necame the World's Angriest Boy in the World. He became a little angrier every time David got a little mad. He skimmed anger off the top do it wouldn't go too far. An unfair game, a sister who ran faster, a teacher who mocked him. Farukh got angrier, his lines drawn sharp and dark. Because Farukh knew they couldn’t control their powers yet, not when they were mad. They’d done a few things together, little magics. On purpose. Turned the color of the leaves early a few days. Brought a few ants back to life (if ever they were really dead, it was hard to say with ants. They weren't strong enough yet to sense the life of such tiny things). But angry was different. David’s angry broke things. It burned them. So Farukh became a boy of paper. David even Doodled him in the margins of notebooks sometimes. The Angry Boy who killed his mother with a knife. Or was it a fall of stars? No, no definitely knife. A boy couldn’t make the stars fall on purpose just to kill his mother. Not on purpose and of course it was on purpose because how could a person possibly make the stars fall not on purpose? So must have been a knife. David and Farukh talked the first time then. Sort of. David doodled Farukh carrying out their conversations about stars and knives and mothers. It was the reason he got sent to counseling the first time. Disturbing images. Farukh lost control more often now. A paper boy just doesn’t swallow anger like a dog swallows joy. Anger burns inward when it can't burn out. Because Farukh loved David more, he channeled all his being into mastering the flow of that elemental anger. At absorbing most but spinning off a constant thin stream of it so he didn’t get overwhelmed. It didn’t cause explosions but it did infect their new father with rage. It made sense. Angry boys are supposed to be the product of angry fathers, right? It hurt but made sense so it must be true. And every time Farukh slipped, every time he let their power out just enough that a light bulb burst or a bully broke his leg on the football field, David believed for a second it was real. He believed and was afraid. He believed and remembered once he’d had so much joy he could reshape the earth and now he only had killing fires and the Angriest Boy. He grew very, very angry. The shrink said he was angry with himself. The fires he was setting, the drinking, and shoplifting. It was self hate. They Were Wrong. It should have made David very angry. But he had Farukh to protect him from that. Farukh and the pills. Still, je tried to get so angry need be able to see the truth about himself and believe. And yet, he was deeply afraid of his power, afraid of the harsh light of the stars that knew something he didn't, and of the part of him thinking up new ways to be angry so how could use the power that only came now with rage. He immolated their house the last time his father hit him with a belt. David thought the blaze would kill him. And because he thought it would, it did. And for that first, terrifying time they died. And when they realized they were only dead because they thought it, they grew more afraid. It wasn’t enough for Farukh to swallow the fear, it was much too big, it was sharp like knives. It wasn't just David. Farukh was afraid too. So he became it. And as he became it, David grew afraid of the very sight of him, afraid of acknowledging truth of what they were, afraid of eyes that burned yellow like fallen stars. So Farukh hid from David. And he hid the memories of what they could do. Because when David remembered he grew afraid and when David was afraid Farukh grew. Farukh feared if he grew much more it would be David who couldn’t contain him. Farukh was afraid if he broke David he’d break the whole world. Break out into that other world and then break that too. So Farukh began to let the memories slip out now and then, joy, rage, world creating-ending-creating powers. The thoughts intruded on David’s life. Just when he thought the meds were working and Farukh thought it could be safe to release the terrible pressure of truth. Something would slip, a flash of his house burning the leaves changing colors at their whim, and when they could see the present again, the fear had burst out of them and eviscerated a dove. David became afraid that it was all real and that it all wasn’t. yhat he was insane or he was responsible for it all. Every ant, every breath, every star. And Farukh grew and grew. The only thing that saved them, that saved the world, was Clockworks. They made a place outside of time. There, nothing was scary. There, nothing was anything. The people had no stupid rules of time and space, no up or down. It was easy. Farukh began to hope. Sometimes he let his guard down even. There were people here to help. They'd needed to retreat from reality to keep it safe. The people here got that. They were safe. So Farukh didn't have to be a devil anymore. He could tuck the fear into the memories he'd spent years burying in layers of worlds David had written and forgotten. He became Lenny before David needed her. Just in case it was time. Just in case he'd finally earned what he'd sought for protecting them both for so long. Then Syd came. And maybe Syd was real or maybe David made her because he knew the truth about Farukh already. It didn't matter. Love was the only thing David had left, that never grew so big that Farukh had to swallow the extra. David didn't wait for it to grow. He gave it all to Syd. Farukh screams and tries to win it back. It’s all he ever wanted. It’s why he was King first and not the shadow king. But he’s not good for David. He’s not funny, and defiant, and bright like Syd. He’s not sane, not anymore. When he becomes Lenny, she’s damaged and hot headed and delirious. They’re so pilled up she can barely toss together a recognizable show of affection. She tries the drugs because they bring David a moment of peace. Like Syd. And she’s heard drugs are supposed to have the same kind of chemical feel as falling in love. She drops them in his memory well before Syd. Lenny's love may be blue but it’s older and truer than Syd’s. Syd is nobody. Syd doesn't know that David's true laugh reshapes the universe. Syd's never choked that laugh so the universe can rest long enough to seem real. David loves her anyway. Syd smiles, tells him he's special, and it grows. Farukh knows it's his fault. Knows he swallowed down so much of David's will and self that David is simple as a child with his first dog, simple enough to fall in love over cherry pie and the thrill of a hand he can't touch as and who has suffered enough to seem real without seeming broken. Farukh can’t hold it all in. Lenny does her best. She learns to talk and walk in the world so she can try to save David from finding out if his love will destroy it. But she can’t contain enough of David’s love. Lenny is not good enough, not after plugging up joy, swallowing rage, becoming fear. The power leaks out and rearranges Syd first. Her pathology becomes her power, her purpose becomes saving his life, loving him above all else. He gives her everything Farukh ever wanted. Everything Farukh shredded his soul for. It means war. Love shattered Farukh, he couldn’t hold it at all. And so all the rest started to leak out, all that swallowed, pilled up joy and anger and fear. It started to shape the stripped world back into dimensions and sense as it went. It was no longer shrunk to the safe, manageable size of a hospital. Being a clockmaker god had been easy. But this? David began to become a person again. A mutant. Sane. Farukh threw his last will into stopping David from finding out how much more they were than that. Syd had it easy. Syd had a place in the story by tradition. She was pretty and she would save him. Syd was love. She was spun of Amy and his mother and the light of stars that never fell, that just said, “David, wake up.” David made Syd to save him from Farukh. But who would save the world from David now that god was awake?

[sydweedon]

Heaven Bends Close

6:30 Sunday evening – We had just come in from walking the dogs. It was 29 degrees in the park and I was cold. I poured a cup of coffee and the phone rang.

“Syd Weedon.”

“Syd, this is Becky.” My mind raced through the catalog of Beckies I’ve known.

“Brian is in the hospital.” My mind narrowed it down to one, my friend Brian with whom I had worked at the printing company downtown. His wife’s name was Becky. Why was she calling me?

“Hi, how are you?”

The printing company was a significant player in the industry in those days. They counted among their clients Cummins Engine, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Electronic Arts and Fidelity. Some serious jobs flowed through our keyboards and monitors. The printing company had hired me because I was a PC wonk. I could do high-end four-color prepress on a PC. I could make Pagemaker dance a jig. I not only understood CorelDraw, but I loved it. But most of our jobs, and especially most of the big ones were not PC; they were Macintosh in Quark, Photoshop, Illustrator and Freehand. I had never laid a glove on a Macintosh, and that’s where Brian comes in. He was the lead guy on second shift pre-press when I hired on. He patiently taught me the Mac and the vagaries of the Linotronic image setter. He taught me how to trap color in Quark and Illustrator. I showed him my tricks on the PC and we’d go out to restaurants together on “lunch break.” We had fun.

“Brian is really sick,” Becky said.

“What’s the matter?”

“He has pancreatic cancer. He’s not doing well at all.”

The last time I talked to Brian was about six months ago. He had called. He was between jobs. The printing company had laid us both off after the technology caught up to what we used to do manually. They no longer needed $20/hr operators to do jobs that could be done now by an $8/hr college student. I had moved on to an art director job with another company, but Brian had a rougher time of it. He told me then that he was thinking about selling his house because he was having trouble with the payments. I told him that I wanted to have him and Becky over for dinner, but we never set a date. Now, Becky was on the phone and Brian was dying.

We hadn’t really pal-ed around after we left the printing company. Different worlds, I guess. Brian was a hard luck case in many ways. He had a disfiguring skin condition that caused large moles on his skin. When I first hired on at the printing company, the HR guy had taken me aside to brief me on Brian’s condition, to not be afraid of it, that “it isn’t contagious.” Three years into our time at the printing company, Brian was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Then, about a year after we left the printing company, he had a bout of stomach cancer. I visited him in the hospital then. They thought they got it all and life was good. Now, Becky was on the phone, and things weren’t good at all.

They were calling me now, not because I was an old friend from bygone days, but because I am a Presbyterian minister. I’m the guy who has looked death in the face a thousand times and not flinched. No, I don’t like death. It doesn’t turn me on, but it doesn’t paralyze me either. I have the capacity to look through the horror, the tubes, wires and machines, the pain and loss, and still see an old friend who needs me right this minute. I have faith. I believe there is something wonderful beyond this vale of tears, but I don’t know what. I can say that I have felt it, that I trust there is something other than annihilation waiting for us. To trust – all is not lost. I believe that, and I’m willing to say it into these extreme moments. That’s why they called me.

I ask Becky how she is doing. She is struggling. She has built her life around Brian. Their eighteen-year-old son is not dealing with it well, not supporting her the way she needs him to. I tell her that’s pretty normal. At that age, they’re not emotionally mature and they withdraw to protect themselves from the reality. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her; he just can’t cope with it. My dad lasted until I was forty two. I can’t imagine what I would have done had he died when I was eighteen. I asked Becky what room he was in and what time of day he was most alert. She said about 3 PM. I promised her I would be down there tomorrow at that time.

In my mind I steel myself. I visualize what he will look like so that I will be prepared. I want to walk into the room and look into the eyes of an old friend. I can’t let the fear and horror get in the way. I will not react to that. That is my gift. You might call it courage, but it isn’t really. It’s just technique. I know that to be a help to my friend, I have to focus on him, not my own fear or revulsion at the condition. I need to look him in the eyes and give him hope.

And, I’m not alone. Heaven bends close.  

[postcardsfromanferny]

Best of 2017: 90 Songs You Need To Hear

It feels cliché to talk about 2017 as the monstrous entity that it was. Mostly because we all know it. That’s all we talked about all year. (And anyone who doesn’t see it as a series of obstacles probably has a very different opinion on what makes America and humanity great.) 

Luckily the music was good. Very good. Some of it was a reaction to 2017, but a lot of it wasn’t. It was just great art that dealt with politics on the personal level. Discussing love, loss, anger, gender, race, technology, fun nights, and oppression weren’t inventions of 2017--and some of these issues have been bubbling for long enough that the explosion was going to happen regardless. So there’s not much else for me to say that these great creators haven’t already done. 

My initial hope of doing 30 great tracks stretched and stretched...and so now we have 90 tracks. The first 5 are the ones tattooed on my heart. The next 25 are just so damn good I wanted to make sure you heard them. And the remaining are in alphabetical order just for the sake of ease. Below is the embedded spotify playlist too. 

1. Just Dancing – Sylvan Esso

The beginning of a relationship is the most visceral part because you have the rush of “firsts” with a person. “Just Dancing” looks at the reality of hopping from person to person (via dating apps) just to keep yourself in a constant state of early love euphoria. It’s a simple concept laid over a building dance track that is as exciting as it is rueful.

2. This Country – Fever Ray Who knew the protest song we all needed in 2017 would come from a Swede exploring her sexuality? Whether she’s talking about her native land or the U.S. or the world at large, Fever Ray (aka Karin Dreijer) lets a creepy synth trickle beneath her haunting voice until she exclaims “Free abortions! And clean water! Destroy nuclear! Destroy boring!” Leading to an unexpectedly cathartic “This country makes it hard to fuck!”

3. Pleasure – Feist You can always tell a Leslie Feist guitar moment. It manages to be aggressive and delicate, and that carries through every note of this title track. As Feist navigates the meaning of pleasure—is it personal or public? Natural or manufactured? It’s a heady topic built on a riff PJ Harvey would be proud of (not to mention the vocal range displayed here), all leading up to a clap along finale that sounds somewhere between defiant and exuberant.

4. Slow Disco – St. Vincent On her latest album Annie Clark goes big and personal, to varying degrees of success. But it’s no accident that the album’s highlight is a track that feels like the natural extension of her best work (think Strange Mercy meets Teenage Talk). It’s languid but weird in all the right places—including her own pitch-shifted vocals on an a funereal outro.

5. Ocean – Goldfrapp It’s been a long time since Goldfrapp went epic in the truest sense of the word. Early tracks like Utopia and Strict Machine were wildly different but had one thing in common: They were unrelenting in going big—and then even bigger when you expected them to back down. Ocean follows suit with a cinematic sound that closes the album on perhaps the darkest note of the band’s career. “I borrowed bones, I borrowed skin to save me from the hell I’m in.”

6. Make Love Stay – Blue Hawaii 7. Blood on Me – Sampha 8. The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness – The National 9. WWWater – WWWater 10. Dangerous – The xx 11. Build a Fire – Young Ejecta 12. Heatwave – Amber Mark 13. No Worries – Sarah Jaffe 14. Moving as One – LOYAL 15. Put Your Money on Me – Arcade Fire 16. Underwater – Millie Turner 17. Throwing Lines – Kelly Lee Owens 18. London – Maty Noyes 19. Disco Tits – Tove Lo 20. after that – yaeji 21. Someone – Anna Of The North 22. Glue – Bicep 23. Kids – LIA LIA 24. Lucky Girl – Fazerdaze 25. Flatline – Nelly Furtado 26. Everlasting Love – Sabrina Claudio 27. Deathless – Ibeyi (featuring Kamasi Washington) 28. On My Mind (Jorja Smith X Preditah) – Jorja Smith, Preditah 29. call the police – LCD Soundsystem 30. Baby – Tei Shi

Lotto in Reverse – Alex Lahey Some Mistakes – Anna Wise Paradise – ANOHNI Fire – Beth Ditto I Feel Alright - Mura Masa Remix – Bonzai, Mura Masa Country Girl – Boy Harsher 1UL – Danny L Harle Trees On Fire – DJDS, Amber Mark, Marco Mckinnis Get It Together – Drake, Black Coffee, Jorja Smith Heat Of The Night – Eat More Cake Go To Hell – Empress Of Falling – Forever Always Ascending – Franz Ferdinand Love You More – Fyfe No Horses – Garbage Kids (Ain't All Right) – Grace Mitchell 1986 – HÅN Controller – Hercules & Love Affair, Faris Badwan Godmanchester Chinese Bridge – The Howl & The Hum I Won't Judge – Jacques Greene Purple Feelings (feat. Rainsford) – Jerry Folk, Rainsford Love To Love – Jessie Ware Something Bout Our Love – JONES Al oeste – Juana Molina Sleepwalker – Julie Byrne LMK – Kelela Sleep Deprived – LÉON Leave the War With Me – London Grammar Wait For Me – Luca D'Alberto I'm Not A Disco – Maja Francis Sober (Over You) – Melis Tailwhip – Men I Trust Sleeping in My Own Bed – Morly 1 Night (feat. Charli XCX) – Mura Masa, Charli XCX Shouting at the Dark – The Mynabirds Cuffed – Nick Hakim Nobody – Niia 2 Good 2 Be True – Nite Jewel Off The Radar – Noga Erez Let Your Hair Down – Ouri, Mind Bath Choir – Perfume Genius Closer – POWERS Crocodile Tears – Ralph Sticky – Ravyn Lenae Dance With A Ghost – Sara Hartman Shine a Light – Shabazz Palaces, Quazarz, Thaddillac Kimono Hill – Sophia Kennedy Visions of Gideon – Sufjan Stevens Hands Up Head Down – Sure Sure Shake Em Off – Syd The Weekend – SZA Moonshine Freeze – This Is The Kit Further – TOPS Up The Creek – Tori Amos Fear & Force – Vagabon Falling (feat. Okay Kaya) – Vera, Okay Kaya Virtue – Vero I / You – vōx Bleed – WENS Stay for Real – Young Galaxy

[galaxyheartsx-archived-blog]

A Lot to Think About

Another Sky-centric drabble. Idk what this is. I got an idea and I have way too much Sky muse and not enough canon-centric Sky stuff going on, plus I never get to play his dad!Sky verse. So here, have a bit of cutesy feelsy stuff.

Sky has made a lot of mistakes in his life, from the way that he'd shut himself off after Dru went missing to some of the things that he's said. Despite his occasional arrogant attitude, he was the kind of person who'd be the first to admit if he made a mistake. It was one of the many things that had made him such a good Commander since Crueger's retirement. Sky had screwed up a lot in his life, but if there was one thing that wasn't a mistake, it was the pretty girl with big blue eyes and bouncy blonde curls that was currently smiling up at him as he worked. She looked up at him in the same way that the pictures that he had hidden away had showed him that he'd looked up at his own father, as if he were untouchable and infallible.

"Look, Daddy!" Betsy chirped, holding up a piece of paper for him to study. He held out his hand and she handed it to him, beaming from ear to ear, as if she were so proud of herself. He studied the picture, his stern features melting into the sweetest and most loving of smiles. It was a picture of what he assumed to be the two of them with a sun above their heads, a stretch of blue behind them that he took to be the ocean, and scribbles that vaguely resembled a picnic.

Unable to stop smiling, Sky looked back at her, the picture still in his hands. "This is us when we had our picnic at the beach, right?"

Excitedly, she nodded vigorously, her blonde curls bouncing everywhere. "Yup! It was one of the happiest days of my life because you promised me that you would let us have a whole day to ourselves and you actually kept it! It was the most fun that I've had in...like...FOREVER!" She flung her hands up in an exaggerated motion and almost fell backwards, but Sky's hand darted forward and steadied her.

An ache spread through his chest at her words, although the gentle smile remained in place. A part of Sky resented the job that he used to love and hated how it prevented him from spending as much time as possible with his little Betsy. While he'd managed to arrange a few things to allow for her to hang out in the Command Center when things weren't busy and in the Common Room when things were busy, it wasn't the same. He still missed so much of her life, from her first word to her first steps. It killed him to know that he'd missed those things because of work and that he was going to miss so much more in the future.

Every day, he wondered if his dad had ever felt like this. Sky wondered if he'd hated how he couldn't play catch with Sky all the time or how he'd missed every single one of Sky's soccer games because he was constantly fighting crime. How had he managed to reconcile having a child and being a Ranger at the same time? How did he handle knowing that he was going to constantly disappoint his son by missing games, holidays, birthday parties?

From what he'd gathered about Bridge and Syd's parents, the ones that had been Rangers quit the moment that they started trying to have children. They'd given up their careers and pursued other interests and things in order to live a normal life and give their children a chance at a normal life. Maybe Sky should have taken a leaf out of their books and had left SPD the moment that he'd learned that he was going to be a father. Maybe things would be different, maybe he wouldn't have this painful ache in his chest.

But what could he do? Sky literally had no skills that would function in a "normal" setting, nor any idea of any possible paths he could take. His entire existence had been built around being a Ranger and being a member of SPD. All of his skills and energy had been so focused on reaching his goals that he hadn't even stopped to think about trying to figure out how he would function in the normal world if he ever left the organization. Was he even capable of walking away? Or was he, like Crueger before him, an SPD man for life, even at the expense of his relationships?

"Daddy?" Betsy's voice suddenly cut through his thoughts, reminding him that the drawing was still clutched in his hand. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she was frowning, a look on her adorable little face.

He tried to smile at her, curious as to why she looked so worried. "Yeah, Princess?"

She stood up in his Commander chair so that she was a little closer to him, her blue eyes boring into his face with an all too intense stare that he'd seen in the familiar far too often. "You look really sad, like someone broke your favorite toy. Are you okay, Daddy?"

For someone who used to pride himself on hiding his emotions, Sky had apparently lost his touch at it. His smile turned a little more geniune, although the sadness still lingered. "I'm fine, Princess. Daddy's just thinking of a lot of things, is all." He leaned in close to her and whispered, "Being an adult sucks!"

She giggled, suddenly throwing her arms around his neck and clinging tightly. With one smooth motion, he swept her into his arms and twirled her around, earning more giggles as her curls whipped around her face. "I'm glad to hear that, Daddy. I don't like it when you're sad. It makes me sad."

"I'm sorry that I made you sad, Betsy Blue." He smiled as she positively lit up at his special name for her, something that he hadn't called her in a while. He thought about it for a moment before deciding to pose her a serious question. "Would you still love me if I wasn't Commander of SPD anymore? Or a Ranger?"

Betsy positively lit up, her blue eyes sparkling in the low light of the Command Center. "I would still love you so much, Daddy! It doesn't matter if you work here or not. You're my still my Daddy, no matter what." She paused for a moment before grinning at him. "And if you leave SPD, then you can spend more time with me and we can have tea parties and have loads of picnics and go to the zoo and..." She kept going on and on, listing all of the things that they could do together and Sky had the distinct feeling that she had thought about it often.

He lovingly kissed her forehead, fingers tenderly stroking her hair. "I guess I have a lot to think about, huh, Betsy Blue?" No one would blame him if he retired, especially if it was because of Betsy. He was the only one from B Squad still left in SPD. Jack had been the first to go, Bridge had retired a couple of years before, Z had found a new calling and was now working directly with at risk youth, and even Syd was off doing whatever Syd did. Sky was essentially alone and far too busy to keep up with his friends like he wished he could. Although he didn't want to admit it, he missed them all more than he could explain.

Maybe, just maybe, retirement wouldn't be so bad after all.