i thought my gravestone was good but yours might be better

i think both of ours are equally good mary :)

the grudge | Matt Murdock x Reader

PART 4 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You think back on your relationship with your father after his death, and Matt is there to put some things into perspective and take care of you.

Warnings: Angst, 100% self-indulgent (this fic is the definition of that word), death of a parent, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), song fic, conflicting emotions, hints at child abuse (mostly emotional), and everything that comes with it

Word Count: 1.4k

A/n: I was sad and angry when I wrote this. Growing older, I started realizing that the things my father did when I was a child shaped me, and that it will always stand between us. And when I heard Olivia's song "the grudge" for the first time, it hit me hard. So, this is how this fic came to be. Some of you may identify with this and recognize some of the feelings I've worked through with this. It may also trigger you, so please proceed with caution.

His favorite flowers were peonies. 

It’s a detail you’re not quite sure why you chose to remember. 

You can’t remember the last time he put in the effort to remember one of your favorites—because he never listened. Everything you once told him entered one ear and came out the other without processing your words. If he simply wasn’t capable of feeling empathy or if he chose not to because you were “too complicated,” you’re not sure. You’re not even sure if you want to know. 

Well, even if you did, it’s too late now. 

His favorite flowers were peonies, and yet, staring at his gravestone now, you wonder how a person can call a flower that resembles love and happiness their favorite and be incapable of those very same emotions at the same time. 

He never loved you. At some point, he stopped telling you. You got older, and you realized that fighting for a relationship that has been broken from the start is of no use. When someone can’t love you back, it’s not worth it to love them. The disappointment will only break you. That is what you have tried telling yourself for years, but where he lacked empathy, you’ve always had too much of it, and you quickly realized that you are incapable of hating him to the extent you wish you did. 

Still, even though you can’t hate him, you do resent him. You resent him for never caring the same way you saw other children being loved. You resent him for not sticking around. For not remembering the most essential details about you. For not putting in more effort. For not believing in you when you needed it most. For replacing you. For hurting your mother. For hurting you. There are many reasons you could hate the man who called himself your father, but you still can’t hate him. He failed you when you were just a child, and you still can’t hate him. What does that say about you? Resenting someone while you still love them; is that even possible? Or is it just the confusion that consumes you?

You’re not sure how you’re supposed to grieve the death of someone you once claimed you wouldn’t miss when he died, but it does hurt. It hurts, and you hate it.

Just because he was dead to you doesn’t make this twisted love you have for him go away, you realize that now. And now that he is actually dead, you’re not sure where to with yourself. Or your anger. Or your resentment. 

You wonder if you should have done more to get closure before he died. You wonder if there would have been any way to salvage what was broken between you if you both had just tried a little harder. But you were a child, and then you grew into a broken adult, and you did all you could have done. The blame is normal, someone told you once. It gets better though. It is supposed to get better. 

If it’s supposed to get better though, why does it still hurt so damn much?

The gravel next to your scrunches underneath a second set of boots. A hand finds your own. It’s larger, more calloused than your own. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks softly. 

He knows how badly it hurts to lose a parent. The only difference is that his father treated him well for the first nine years of his life before he died. 

You wonder if your father was even just a little sorry or if he simply didn’t realize how shitty his behavior was, even though many people have told him over the years. 

You blink, the tears in your eyes an all too familiar companion. “Yeah,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

Your heartbeat doesn’t waver, but he still knows you’re lying. 

The man who was supposed to love you the most in this world did little to show you that. Matt is the first man who has ever shown you unconditional love and known you in a way that you can’t possibly put into words. Your father was insecure, too insecure to love you in the way you were supposed to be loved, and in the process of trying to survive through his struggles, he scarred you for life. 

He wrapped his hand around your heart and broke it without realizing it. 

“You know, I tried to understand why he treated me like he did,” your voice tears through the silence in a monotone line. 

Matt’s head tilts in your direction. “Some people are very insecure and unhappy with themselves,” he says. It’s more of a matter-of-fact statement, but he says it with such sincerity that it hits you right in your feelings.

“I know that, but–”

He cuts you off. He knows you blame yourself. You say you don’t, but every time you do, you’re lying. He knows you’re lying. “When a parent is like that, the person who is the least to blame for any of it is their child,” Matt tells you. “You were just a child, sweetheart.”

No matter how hard you try, you can’t let it go. 

“I think…” You take a deep breath. “I think he wanted a baby, not a child. And when I grew up, and he realized I wasn’t as easy as he wanted me to be, he thought removing himself from the narrative would fix everything,” you say. Your voice is still monotone.

He doesn’t deserve your tears. Still, you cry. You can’t help but cry because, in a way, you loved him, and now that he’s dead, it hurts. 

In silence, there is suffering, and in suffering there is always at least an ounce of unresolved anger. In your case, it is a lot more. And you don't have the strength to fight or forgive. You’re not there yet, and you probably won’t ever get there. Some people make it look easy, but closure and moving on from the agony of your childhood is harder than it may sound.

Another heavy breath leaves your lips. It weighs like a ton of bricks and drags the mood further down. “I don’t like holding grudges.” The cold wind whips you across the face.

“I know.” Matt squeezes your hand in his. 

“I can’t not hold it against him,” you continue. “We were both hurt, and hurt people hurt people, but…those cuts were never equal.”

He shakes his head. When you’re losing yourself in this sea of emotions that you don’t quite understand yet, he’s there to help you keep your head above water. He’s there to help you breathe when it gets a little too hard. And he’s there to be your common sense because yours doesn’t work as well as it used to.

“You have every right to hold a grudge. He made you believe that you aren’t worthy of love,” he says. “Yes, hurt people hurt people, but that doesn’t make it okay that he hurt you in a way no child should ever be hurt.”

He has a way of bringing you down to earth. Your father sucked at talking about what he was feeling or thinking; he sucked at finding the right words because he hardly ever believed in them. He made you believe that you weren’t worthy of love—emphasis on weren’t. When Matt came around, all of that changed. Now, you do believe you are worthy of love. His love, anyway. 

Though every time you think you’re not enough, his voice—your father’s voice—is still there. You can’t escape him, even now that he is dead. He will always live rent-free in your mind, and the damage he caused will always affect the way you see things.

“I love you,” Matt’s gentle voice breaks through the fog like a siren’s song. “He was wrong about so many things, and I think he died knowing that by not trying hard enough, he lost you a long time ago.”

 Your teary eyes are mirrored in his glasses, finally looking up at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask.

He shakes his head, but there is a small smile playing on his lips. “There is nothing that can make this better, but there is a fine line between love and hate. You can’t let it destroy you.”

It’s true. You don’t want to turn into the bitter one. If you do, you are no better than him, and you will never know what it is like to be free. 

You wipe your cheeks. “I want to go home,” your wish is clear in the crispy morning air. 

Matt tugs you closer to him. “Okay,” his lips press to your temple, “let’s go home.”

Matt Murdock Angst Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama

hello my good friend mx surge! what kind of music do you like/prefer, genre-wise? got any favorite songs? and then can i get some favorite lyrics? smile! and. tell me what characters/stuff the lyrics make you think of if you'd like to go that far! doesn't have to be any characters I'd know about or even any at all. i am Curious <- all /nf! do as much as you like. i love asking questions and hearing your thoughts 🫡🫡 —marley

hello my wonderful friend marley! eeee I love talking about music. this is gonna be a long one

(disclaimer: I am admittedly Very Bad at genres, so I'm gonna give you artists and maybe you can decide for yourself what genres they are)

AJR is a big one, I could talk for days about AJR. they're one of the only bands I've been to a concert for (very very good concert, very fun, very dramatic, highly recommend, they are clearly showmen, not just musicians, and that makes for entertaining shows). I'm unironically following someone on tumblr who posts ONLY AJR stuff because every time I see the name "AJR" it's like a visceral reaction that makes me grin. ooh, also Twenty One Pilots. I love then. looking forward to their new album

I listen to a lot of broadway. some of my favorites are Be More Chill, Mean Girls, Six, and Titanic the Musical, just to name a few. I love seeing live shows especially- I saw Something Rotten not too long ago, and the Nick was BRILLIANT it. was, admittedly, a high school production, but nonetheless. he danced a lot, even unchoreographed dancing in the background, just like, vibing, and it was so obvious that he was just having a good time and enjoyed being there (the actor, that is, not the character) and I just liked watching him

oh, and Sleeping at Last! I first discovered them by their Atlas: Enneagram album, because I'm a nerd and adore personality tests (I'm an INTP and a 5 in case anyone was wondering), but I've been slowly absorbing the rest of their music, and it's all so beautiful

favorite songs... hm. I can't not say "2085," the closer to AJR's most recent album, and perhaps the most emotionally devastating song they have released as of yet (which is really saying something). best lyrics from that song are undoubtedly the last bit, where they say "you gotta get better, you've all that I got," then it gets softer and the lyrics change to "I gotta get better, I'm all that I've got." HEARTBREAKING /pos. I mean, I like that part enough that I wrote a whole fic inspired by it. one of my very few angst fics. "All That I've Got," a Minnesconsin fic (link here if you're curious). by the way, the first song of that album, "Maybe Man," is also a banger, highly recommend

I love "96000" from "In the Heights" (I think it's only in the movie version, not the musical version? not 100% sure though). ooh this song makes me crazy. this song... ok. I can't talk about this song without being a bit weird about it, but stick with me. this song always makes me think of the people on the Titanic. I read a book once with fictionalized versions of a few of the Titanic's officers and crew members, and once I was listening to this song and when it got to Sonny's verse, all I could think about was how exactly it matched fifth officer Harold Lowe's vibes. it's not really the lyrics, but several of the verses just remind me of various crew members' vibes. and it's. it's just a great song

"Air Catcher" by TOP. that's another wonderful song. always makes me think of Iowa to Wisconsin, for no particular reason. best lyric is "I don't believe in talking just to breathe," which is an idea that always appealed to me

Tyler Joseph is a BRILLIANT lyricist, actually. other great lyrics by him:

"our words are loud but now I'm talking action" (Neon Gravestones)

"for us to think is to be alive / and I will try with every rhyme / to come across like I am dying / to let you know you need to try to think" (Car Radio)

"death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit" (Heavydirtysoul)

"haunted by a couple big mistakes / she covers all the dents with the way she decorates" (Redecorate)

"like an "I love you" / that isn't words / like a song he wrote that's never heard" (Shy Away)

I love "despair" by leo. always makes me think of florida talking to loui (in a queerplatonic way, of course). another great floui song is "Tightrope" from The Greatest Showman, but I picture this one as loui to florida

holy moly this is even longer than expected. I'll leave you with this for now. you've probably gotten a good grasp of my taste by now haha. thank you sm for the ask, I had a delightful time answering :D

Skinty Fia by Fontaines D.C.

The band Fontaines D.C. have had a presence in music since 2017, after meeting in a pub and bonding over their combined love of poetry. I first discovered them this year, after accidently missing their set at Latitude festival in July I decided to dig deeper in their music - however it just made me more annoyed at myself for forgetting about them when they were live. So, if you get the opportunity... GO AND SEE THEM LIVE!!!

Their latest album’s title “Skinty Fia”, is an old Irish phrase meaning “the damnation of the deer”- which signifies the Dublin quintet’s views on the loss of tradition and the modern culture of Ireland. The animosity of the extinct Irish Elk on the cover of the album resembles the bands stand-offish nature and their ever-evolving relationship with Irish culture and tradition. Despite the band moving to London two years ago it is very much evident that they have not lost touch with their roots. With “Skinty Fia” being their third album and their most experimental, its is a more than acceptable follow up from their last albums; “A Heroes Death” (2020) and “Dogrel” (2019). It is clear that the band show their interest in traditional and classical literature through their music - Chatten describing his influences as James Joyce and William Butler Yeats.  

The first track on the album “In ár gCroíthe go deo” is a ethereal fall down the rabbit hole of the album. The meaning behind the title of this track is steeped in contentiousness between English and Irish communities to this day. The family of an Irish woman living in Coventry wanted a Celtic cross bearing these words on her gravestone, with the meaning “in our hearts forever”- an ode to her Irish heritage. However, the Church on England contested this saying the gravestone could be viewed as “a political statement” (BBC NEWS) and insisted on an English translation. This eerie track was written to honour the family, and after they won on the grounds of racial discrimination.

My favourite track on the album is “Roman Holiday”, in his own words, Lead singer Grian Chatten -in an interview with Rolling Stone,  said about Roman Holiday: “I think it’s about wanting to sort of go out and embrace London as an Irish person. […] The reason I use the word “embrace,” trying to talk about this, is because in a sense, especially when you surround yourselves or almost insulate yourself with people who are from the same area as you in a new country — most of my friends here are from Dublin as well — the effect is that you begin to look for it or love it. You want reminders of the fact that you’re part of this group of people that are still sort of mocked and told to go home. At some point, you start to wear as like a badge of honour, and that’s what that song is. It’s a celebration of that flipping, from it being a bad thing into a positive thing.”

The music video for “Jackie down the line” - the fourth track on the album captures themes of desire with a modernist twist on a Shakespearian classic. We see a puck like character adorned with a red pointed hat and a adidas tracksuit on dropping roses- a well know symbol of lust and desire, on a sleeping Titania. When collecting more and more of these roses and displaying his increasing desire for his unsuspecting lover, he stumbles across other women indicative of Titania’s servant fairies – Titania discovers the two parties engaging with each other and uses her power and violence (in the form of a bow and arrow) to kill both the people and their desire.

Overall the album is a reflection on their steady rise to post punk greatness and is a guarenteed great listen.

The Audra Diaries

Hi. So recently, I had a silly and goofy idea. Before I even talk about it, let me hit you with a recommendation. If you haven’t already, watch Jenny Nicholson’s video about the Vampire Diaries. I was watching/listening to that video today for the umpteenth time despite never actually watching the show myself, and I figured I should go ahead and watch it for the first time. I don’t want to just watch it though because that’s lame, that’s boring. Instead, I’m going to sit down and review every single episode of the show. So here’s the plan: I’m going to share the bullet point notes that I take while watching the episode, then afterward I’m going to write an actual review for the episode. That’s it. (The notes themself are often out of context comments, which is something that I personally enjoy looking at because I think that kind of thing is funny). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. :3

Season 1 Episode 1

• why was he just standing in the road and why did he land on his back so perfectly

•so if vampires turn people by biting them, why did it kill that guy

•the thing that CW shows do where they have to make every plot element super obvious through exposition is amazing

•I PREDICTED OBAMA!

• “I predict that we’ll get into a fatal car crash just like your parents huh *nudge*”

• TRANNY MESS??? HELLO????

• why is Jeremy just watching them make out walk away bro

• you’re STONED

• chill myself? What is that, stoner talk?

• give him a break damn your parents are dead girl

• she said hubba hubba

• hawt-e. staring (@) u

• CAW!

• why does the gravestone only have the death date and no birth dates

• she’s going to fist fight the crow

• why are you in a graveyard FREAK?! is he not allowed to be there why are YOU here

• there is a bloody gash in your leg and somehow you don’t feel a thing

• he stole her diary he’s a pervert

• “when’s the last time you hooked up with a puppy?”

• “you keep a journal too omg fuck me now pls”

• Matt looks like an anemic Heath Ledger

• running up that hill instrumental? Ope nope just a cover

• “cute becomes dumb in an instant” what teacher is talking like this to their students

• WHAT TEACHER HER PARENTS ARE DEAD BRO

• why does he have a confederate flag on his desk

• I’M DRUNKKKK 😭

• his smolder is so dreamy

• so if Jeremy didn’t show up would that guy have just r*ped her???

• fog monster FOG MONSTER

• so she was almost r*ped then she was murdered. If I didn’t know any better I’d say that TY killed her

• she’s not into you bro

• OMG my brother is drunk at the party where everyone is drunk what the FUCK

• omg secret brother

• the crow is my fav character

• Damon looks kinda like Glinner if Glinner looked normal

• so is Vicki alive or dead cause they took her away in the ambulance covered

• can vampires teleport in this universe what’s up

• I love the way that people drink beer in movies and tv. It’s always so animated

• she basically told him to get over the death of their parents. CHILL, it’s been 5 months, you’re not over it either

• Vicki: “vampire…” Matt: 😯

• mid 2000s shows all using Fray songs is so on the nose

Review: I actually kind of liked this pilot. I think it’s compelling enough on its own and establishes most of the characters well (with the exception of Jeremy). It’s certainly not without its, uh, dicey moments. Tranny mess? The confederate imagery? From what I can tell, there is 1 (one) black character in the show. Also, the way they transition between scenes can be a little jarring, but that’s not even exclusive to this show. It’s a very CW thing. I think the actor they got for Stefan is a pretty rock solid choice as well. The mysterious, hot boy vampire that serves as their answer to Edward Cullen, that doesn’t sound insanely awkward when he speaks. I’ve had my reservations about this show for a while now, but after the pilot, I’m at least a little interested to see how it goes, and that’s how a pilot should be.

(I’m also posting these on substack if you’re interested in that: https://open.substack.com/pub/thotbugatti/p/the-vampire-diaries?r=302je1&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post :) )

many faces

here’s something that has been in the works for a few weeks that I finally got myself to finish today. I was watching some edits on YouTube (as one does) and since Aaron Hotchner lives in my head rent-free, a line about death really just hit me, so here you go: almost 4k words about Hotch and Death

All credit to the writers of GoT for the quotes (even though they seriously fucked up season 8), and the last few lines in the blurb are very inspired by Arya Stark’s storyline in GoT seasons 5 and 6. Hope you all enjoy!

warning: canonical character death

word count: 3.7k words

There is only one god, and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: not today.

- Syrio Forel (Game of Thrones s1e6)

He entered the world in the dead of night towards the start of winter, after the mother spent over twenty hours in labor. The father, passed out after too many drinks, was woken in time to hear the ear-splitting cry of the newborn. Faced with the dark eyes and dark hair that was so like his own, he could only turn away, hating the newborn’s innocence with a burning passion.

When the father gave closing statements only hours later that day, exhaustion overtook him. And so, the mother locked herself and the newborn in the nursery in fear of the vengeful phantom that alcohol made of the man who vowed to love and to cherish the woman.

Thus the next years were spent like this, the mother locking the door to the toddler’s room, reading story after story and waiting out the phantom. The innocence of youth was the only barrier protecting the toddler, one which dissipated the moment he turned four.

Their first dance was when he was eight and had collapsed in class after having spent hours struggling to breathe through the cracked ribs and move through the concussion that had been gifted to him by his father. When he woke up in the hospital, it was to the sight of both of his parents watching over him worriedly, but one’s expression was too vacant, and the other was hiding a familiar rage.

That wasn’t the last time his father put him in the hospital. It was easy to write off—who wouldn’t believe the only lawyer in town, who had done so much for his community?

Those that didn’t believe kept their mouth shut for fear of their reputation being sullied.

The little brother, young as he was, had no idea the power that he possessed. Ever since his birth, the mother’s skin remained unblemished and free from the bruising that was often there before, when she only had one child.

It was easy to play to the reputation the town had given the eldest. Silent and cold, stealing the joy out of everyone near him just as the dark of the Winter steals the light of the Summer, just as the father stole pieces of his being with every blow and every hospital visit.

He had already danced with Death many times before in his short life thus far, but now they were here to take his father away. He stood at the gravestone a few days later with a bottle of vodka he knew his father had hidden amongst his desk drawers. Now the eldest male in the household, the responsibility fell on his back and dragged him down into the depths of vodka and glass shards.

His Spring found him lying there, passed out with cuts on his arms as his mind was elsewhere, dancing with Death. She was relieved to see that they weren’t deep, and so she called her sister to help her bring him back to their house.

When he woke up with a pounding headache and throbbing arms, he saw the relief of his Spring. As she spent time with him in the days after Death took his father and reminded him of the light in the world with each dark secret he confessed, he fell in love all over again, just as the Spring coaxes the Winter into the light.

Later, he would think of the mottled red that had stained his father’s face and the unpleasantly warm, alcohol-tainted breath that washed over him as he stood in front of the wild, untamed man and took the abuse that was sent towards him as he was blamed for the man’s failures. He would think of the wide-eyed joy that his little brother explored the world with and his mother’s skin that had remained unblemished since his little brother came into the world.

He wouldn’t be touching vodka ever again.

He spent more time at her house, no matter how out of place he always felt amidst a family that was so close and open to each other, and slowly, his Spring taught him about the light of life.

They were lessons he strove to keep in the forefront of his mind in college and law school, even as he stared cheap alcohol and razor blades in the face with shaking hands. He went dancing with Death once, early in college, but he remembered her fear and worry despite the throbbing pain he felt.

He was dumping the alcohol down the drain as soon as he could and making it a habit to put his razors out of sight. He made sure she never found out about that one.

It was freeing to be in college and law school—Death did not reach him there. But soon he was graduating with a Juris Doctor degree and throwing himself into prosecuting crimes with a vengeance.

His father had once walked the same halls he was walking, and that was something he was reminded of each time he was addressed by his—his father’s—last name. Death walked in with each case, a silent spectator as he worked long hours to get offenders put away, to get justice for the victims who were sent into Death’s waiting arms far too early in life.

But it wasn’t always that easy. He knew that going in, but it didn’t take away that terrible feeling as he watched a jury buy into the misogynistic song and dance the defense put up in a rape case. As the defense uncovered some shady investigation on the police’s part and managed to get the whole case thrown out. As he watched a young man get sentenced for killing his abusive parents. As he watched an older brother get sentenced for assaulting a police officer that had assaulted his younger sister while that same police officer walked free with only his badge stripped and a year of house arrest.

Death walked the halls with him, with each case that he tried and with each new victim whose name and face he kept in the forefront of his mind. Young as he was, he was already one of the more jaded prosecutors in the office, His work ethic earned him numerous nicknames, and talk flew around about him potentially becoming the youngest district attorney in the county.

But the children…

The final straw came and went. Eight months after a serial pedophile walked free, with four years of prosecution under his belt and talk about him becoming DA, the youngest in county history—he threw it away and started over at the Academy.

A fresh start. He loved Virginia, but he fell in more love with the Pacific Northwest. The cool weather, the beauty of the temperate rainforests, and the scenic coastline were so different compared to the ghosts that haunted him back east. His and Haley’s first anniversary was a memory he would cherish forever; the picture never left his wallet

Two years of trying to solve cases before they got as bad as they were when they came across his desk in the prosecutor’s office and being part-time in the local field office SWAT unit hadn’t snuffed out the strange love he had for the region. Though he was more often calling Death to him to sweep the offenders he was hunting away, he did come close to dancing with Death a few more times—he was quite good at close quarters, but his true specialty was distance.

It was oddly comforting, though, to know that even as changes continued to happen, some things remained the same.

Only a week after his superior gave him a heads up about potential recruitment to the tactical team out in Quantico, he met David Rossi in San Francisco on a five-year-old cold case. He didn’t miss the look of surprise that appeared on the older agent’s face in reaction to his theory about the killer.

He had heard of the BAU and had listened to some of their lectures at the Academy about profiling—the confusion he felt at hearing about the years of training members of the team went through was reignited when Rossi started waxing poetic about an instinctual ability weeks later when they were at a bar after the case was declared cold.

That theory he had presented when he first met Rossi didn’t feel like an instinctual gift, and he said as much to the other agent.  Nevertheless, he and Haley were back in Virginia just months later—she was teaching at a local high school and he was the newest member of the BAU.

And so he danced, and he learned of the many faces Death had. He danced as Gideon started grooming him for leadership weeks after Rossi retired. He danced as Morgan brought his unending stubbornness and heart of gold. He danced as JJ and Garcia brought reminders of the light that was still in the world. He danced as Reid brought his own brand of uniqueness and painful reminders of his young age.

He danced with Death, who he could see peeking out from the eyes of the unsubs he and the team ended up facing off with. He danced more than he ever had, but his Spring kept him from falling into Death’s waiting arms. His Spring and the prospect of binging a child into the world together kept him going as Adrian Bale took out six agents with one bomb, sent him to the hospital for shrapnel wounds, and sent Gideon into a post-traumatic tailspin.

It was fine in the beginning; the expectation the Gideon would be returning made the long hours bearable. Six months passed, and he came back, but he didn’t return to leadership. Whispers that trickled down from up high made it clear that this designation was permanent.

They both thought they could make it work. Their child came into the world just days after he wove his web around Death and stared them down through a sniper rifle. He took a month off, and came back to face Death once more—only they were wearing the face of a man who killed multiple families.

He came close to another dance when Death wore a face that was nearly identical to his own—all that was different was their walks of life. He opened up more directly to Vincent Perotta than to anyone else that was currently on the team; Gideon could only profile, and he only explicitly told Rossi and his Spring about what his home life had been like.

Life went on, though with how often he danced with Death, it couldn’t really be considered living.

He danced, and he watched.

He watched as Elle danced with Death for the first time and was permanently changed because of his inaction.

He watched as Reid danced with Death for the first time and nearly fell into their arms because of his inaction.

He watched as Death taunted Gideon again and again until the man finally left to search for the fire that had been stolen from within him.

He watched, and he danced

He watched as his Winter darkness slowly crept towards Spring and their child, as his darkness became so oppressive that Haley finally left when he couldn’t stop himself from running to dance with Death. And when the light of Spring (not his, not anymore, she never was—) left, his darkness took over.

He watched as Death claimed Kate in an explosion of fire and debris and whirling him along in the quickest of dances, and he couldn’t help but envision his Spring in her position. He wasn’t blind, he knew how similar the two women looked, he knew what the team whispered behind his back, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was the phone call he was going to have to make to Haley, who had gotten along so well with Kate but now had to face the reality of her death.

Colorado was a new hell for him, as he felt Death’s oppressive presence all over the compound that trapped two of his agents inside. When the buildings were engulfed in flames and debris, he could only sigh in relief that Death didn’t see fit to take his agents today.

When he met Death once more, they were speaking through Megan Kane. Hearing the confidence the young woman had in him, feeling the exhausted resignation she felt at her impending death…

The press got the tip just days after the SIM card was examined by the lab.

Death waits for nobody, however, and his ten-year-old demon woke up to shove onto him more responsibility and more guilt as ten people were found shot to death on the bus in Boston.

He had gotten the profile so right but still so wrong, and Death laughed in his face.

Death laughed as he was stabbed nine times and was in their clutches for thirty minutes before the doctors managed to shake him loose from their arms. They danced and they danced, and Death laughed as he found the bloody picture of Spring and the child.

And he found that he couldn’t wait to see the face Death chose to wear one more time if only to show him just how angry he was, how deeply he felt despite the mask that he put up. His team had no idea how close he was to the edge, and he didn’t let them see the depths of madness he had fallen into.

Even over twenty years out of college and he was still compulsively hiding his razors, but now he couldn’t be more glad but also more hateful for the habit.

But Death gives no respite, and nine months to the day Spring went into hiding with the child, he found himself unraveling quicker than he ever had as he was forced to listen as Spring was stolen from the world.

When the team finally got to the old house, they watched as the tenuous control he held over himself was ripped straight out of his grasp in a bloodthirsty, grief-stricken rage. His hands didn’t feel like his own, and he couldn’t place Jack into JJ’s care fast enough for fear that the hands of a killer would destroy the last precious light in his darkness.

Those same hands felt the unnatural cold that was already setting in on Spring, and his mind froze.

Should he have stopped dancing?

Could he have stopped dancing?

Would it have done anything?

Would it have saved her?

He lived only to make sure Spring lived on in their son. He couldn’t give up chasing Death, but he made sure to keep his son at the forefront of his mind, and if that meant staying behind and coordinating and the precinct, that was fine. It was a change that would have been asked of him when JJ was plucked from the team by the Pentagon, but with the whispered he’s been hearing in meetings, he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking straight into Death’s waiting arms.

There wasn’t any time to worry, however, nor was there time to marvel at the fact that he had made it this far after Spring was ripped from his weak grasp, as he soon had to send Emily away and pretend that she had been claimed by the being he was so familiar with. Barely over a year, and three women who had changed his life so drastically were all ripped from his desperate grip, and his team was barely keeping it together.

It was no longer a dance, but a chase. He chased Death, almost as if his efforts would somehow bring them back and fix everything. He closed himself off and kept chasing because otherwise he would crash and burn and take everything around him down with him.

He kept chasing, all the way to Pakistan and all the way back to face the wall of anger and betrayal that he knew was justified. He kept on going, as Beth came into his life and as Emily left to find her own equilibrium. He didn’t stop, not even when Maeve Donovan was murdered in a manner eerily similar to his own unraveling years ago, not even when he spoke to Sean for the first time in years only to lose him to the criminal justice system, but just weeks later he was given the option once more: he could fight the futile fight, or he could stop and protect his team from afar, standing guard just as he’s done for so many years now.

There was a brief moment that he wondered if he should have taken the section chief job, but just minutes later he was feeling the world tilt as his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed on the floor of the conference room, the pain in his abdomen that had been slowly burning for the past few days turning into a roaring fire that threatened to consume him from the inside out.

And how could he describe the tumultuous feelings of utter joy and desolate grief he felt when he saw Haley sitting in that dress she had worn on their first anniversary in the Pacific Northwest, the dress she wore in the picture that remained in his wallet for nearly twenty years? How could he describe the utter terror he felt when Foyet crashed their time together and shot her once again, or the renewed grief when he realized this would be the last vivid memory he would have of the Spring who had taught his Winter about the light?

But he woke up with the lingering feel of Haley’s lips on his own to see Garcia and her always brightly-colored clothing that matched her ever-optimistic outlook on life that was often a blessed reprieve from the evil that consumed their jobs, and he remembered why he stayed.

Not only to chase Death, but for the family he realized he had found along the way.

But just as life must go on, Death must as well.

Soon he was calling in favors while learning about the horror JJ had gone through during her stint with Pentagon. Soon his paranoia was reignited as he and the team tried to figure out just how deep the corruption went in that police force all the while Reid was hospitalized with a neck wound. Even as he was reminded of the dangers of the chase when he drove to his old mentor’s cabin in the middle of the night, he kept chasing, because, for all that he knew he had a family in the team, he knew it wouldn’t last.

It couldn’t last.

It was a truth he was all too intimately familiar with.

So he chased, and he chased, and he chased.

And Death laughed and taunted him, throwing him into a mental tailspin through Peter Lewis.

Perhaps that was the moment when he finally lost himself: sitting against the desk, paralyzed as his family was murdered in front of him.

Or maybe it was when he forced himself to play along to Lewis’s sick fantasy and pretend that he was going to shoot at his team.

Was it pretend, though?

Nothing felt real after that—one moment he was grounded in reality and the next he was hearing that awful growling noise right behind him and seeing that terrible Glasgow smile as the hairs on his neck stood up. But, as always, he never let the team know just how far he’s fallen, and he kept going and protecting and chasing with the whole of his being.

He threw himself into work with a vengeance when Garcia was being targeted by the darknet hit group and when Morgan and Savannah were being threatened by the vindictive Montolo Sr, knowing all too well what was at stake.

When Morgan told him about his intent to leave the bureau, he could only feel relief that Morgan wouldn’t fall down the path he himself chose to go down all those years ago, when he first realized he could never stop dancing with Death. He told him as such in that hospital room, and the two exchanged a look, one that was borne from years of respect and kinship that had formed between the two as a result of an understanding only two profoundly hurt yet fiercely protective beings could have.

But life goes on, the moment broke, and he went back to chasing, only to be stopped right in his tracks by Death once again when Metro SWAT stormed his apartment and arrested him at gunpoint right in front of his son. Now, Death wore the faces of all of those who swore revenge against him and tried to break his will.

They very early succeeded, too—it was the closest he felt to unraveling since that terrible day seven years ago, but he knew he couldn’t without taking the whole team down with him. He couldn’t let the seams burst open.

Not yet.

Not until he found out Peter Lewis escaped.

Not until he found out Peter Lewis was baiting his team while working to fulfill a vendetta against him.

Not until he found out the Peter Lewis had watched Jack at one of his soccer games, and not until he found out that Peter Lewis had stalked Jack to his school.

So he planned, he made calls, and he wrote letters to the team and his family.

One night, Aaron Hotchner left those letters on his office desk alongside his resignation letter and credentials, the one thing that truly defined him for nearly twenty years.

Without it, he was no one.

One night, after tucking his son into bed, no one slipped out of his apartment with both of his service weapons and a sparsely packed bag and disappeared into the night, one goal in mind.

Hunt.

I know death. He’s got many faces. I look forward to seeing this one.

- Arya Stark (Game of Thrones s8e2)

Ok, since i got up today and whenever i had time in classes i was listening to the scaled and icy lyric videos. here is my opinion on them!

disclaimer- i am in no ways a professional musician, or a super-in depth reviewer. i am doing this for fun, and to share my opinion with others. i am not trying to criticize the band twenty øne piløts nor am i trying to dismiss anyone else’s opinion.

track 1- good day

one of my favorites from this album, it sounds like the beginning of a musical? kind of. it sounds really happy, but some of the lyrics are kind of dark- and i live for that verbal irony shit in music. my favorite verse is “lost my job my wife and child, homie just sued me.” as far as this song goes it’s a lot more ‘pop’ than what i am used to with the regular tøp music style, but in my humble opinion it sounds awesome and i like that tøp is experimenting with different styles of music.

track 2- choker

good beat at the beginning, i really like the music video. i don’t have as much to say about this one because i’ve already listened to it a lot. i like the rap for this one- “like a little splinter buried in your skin, someone else can carve it out but when you’ve got the pin, it hurts a little less and you can even push it further in, when you body’s screaming out trust you mind’s listening.”

track 3- shy away

this one i also listened to a lot. it’s got really good vocals music wise, and it’s got cool guitar!! i don’t have a favorite lyric for this.

track 4- the outside

funky beat, i like the chorus because the guitar sounds cool in it. my favorite lyric is “kids will try to take my vibes” the rap is also a bop about sharks, summer, and vibing.

track 5- Saturday

unfortunately this is my least favorite track because it sounds like it will be very over played. i still like it though. i like the lyric “catch me floating circles in my fish bowl”. i also think “might get loud on friday” is a nod to the livestream on 5-21-21. i also like that it is a little ocean themed, or like a reoccurring motif. the phone call with tyler and jenna as a bridge (i think) is a nice touch.

track 6- never take it

i like this one because it tells a clearer story that i don’t have to dig deep and analyze to understand. this song also reminds me a lot of the song “here comes the end” by gerard way. my favorite lyric is “why cure disease of confusion when your the treatment facility?” and “the summer i watched the tube i saw enough, taught myself to play guitar tearing it up and my advice on those too things that i picked up you better educate yourself but never too much.” all in all this song has good vibes. and an epic guitar solo!

track 7- Mulberry street

one of my favorites. i like the piano tune at the beginning. it just makes me happy and has a nice sound. the bridge sounds sadder than the rest of it but i think it links the song to other tøp songs that sound sad aswell. my favorite lyric is “i might be cynical towards you, i’m just worried that my loyalty will bore you.”

track 8- formidable

this song is about josh? i think i don’t know all the details of the lore. it’s a nice song and i think it links josh to how he acted in the choker music video.

track 9- bounce man

this has such a fun tune!!! i think it’s about josh running away. my favorite lyric is “i don’t know if you’ve got your phone, cause this went straight to voicemail.” people are seeing josh on the news and it might have some correlation to the choker music video. it has lyrics about playing one last song, and josh is in the band with tyler. this song is really good but very sad. it sounds a little nostalgic.

track 10- no chances

awesome bass. awesome rap. awesome synth. i saw someone comment on the video that it sounds like a translation between the album trench and scaled and icy. i like the metaphors and it just sounds great. it could be about the banditos trying to rescue someone? i like that is another song that tells a somewhat clear story. i don’t have a favorite lyric for this one but i like their rap songs because it’s like poetry but also sounds good and has meaning behind it. i think the chanting “we come for you no chances” might be the bishops.

track 11- redecorate

the final track, it sounds similar to neon gravestones at the beginning. the first lyric is “taking inventory of my his life” i saw a theory that this points to tyler being controlled. i like the chorus, it sounds nice. my favorite verse is “blankets over mirrors she tends to like it. she’s not afraid of her reflection but of what she might see behind it. she had plans to change her name, yeah. just not the traditional way, yeah. haunted by a couple big mistakes, she covers all the dents with the way she decorates then one night she got cold with no blankets on her bed, so she ripped them off the mirror .. etc” there’s a ton of crossed out words in the lyric video which could hint to more things.

overall this album is great. there is a lot of lore and stuff that i don’t know to much about so take my theory’s and opinions with a grain of salt. this was for fun and i had a good time doing this. idk if you can comment in tumblr but if you have any more theory’s feel free to share them with me.

if you do not accept my opinion on things please do not interact with this post :-)

feel free to clarify things or make a post about your thoughts of the songs.

have a wonderful day everyone and if you read this all the way through ily💕

thanks for the tag @gingerbreadmonsters ! Hope you don’t mind I made a fresh post because the old one was very long...

Favourite Colors: Purple, indigoes, blues, and dark greens. Cool colors > warm anyday!

Last Song I Listened To: Accoring to my youtube history... It’s a La Vie en Rose cover by Chloe Moriondo. Also half of my day is filled with that botw animation of “Deathly Loneliness” because its a banger and a bop 

Favourite Musicians: Catch me listening to exclusively videogame OST covers by insaneintherain and Rush Garcia. I’m more of an instrumental person anyhow... I love the Octopath traveler, Botw, Moonlighter, Undertale, Hollow Knight, and Persona 5 OST especially <3

Last Film I Watched: I think the last actual film/movie I’ve watched was Knives Out, which is just fantastic ugh the atmosphere and the cinematography and the writing wow I could gush about that movie all day I love it. However that was like a month ago and I’m more into TV shows as of late

Last TV Show I’ve Watched: Making my way through season one of SPOP because of peer pressure :P also rewatching ATLA because it’s the best show of all time don’t @ me >:)

Favourite Characters: Like...ever? Oof, let me just break out the ol’ mile long list... *ahem* Link, Zelda, and Revali (Botw), Joker and Makoto (Persona 5), Hornet (Hollow Knight), Cyrus Albright, Primrose Azelhart, and Therion (Octopath Traveler), Ellie and Joel (The Last of Us), Toph and Zuko (ATLA), Claude (FE3H) aaannd that’s all I can remember at the moment but there’s definitely a million more

Sweet, Spicy, or Savoury: All are great, I guess it just depends on what mood I’m in. In order of what I like most often, I guess it’s Savoury, Spicy, and Sweet

Pets: Currently don’t have any pets. However, I do have a long, long, long line of pet fish in my life. So many....so....so so many fish..... I’m so sorry Angle I wanted to bury you in the yard with a gravestone but my mom said that toilets led to fish heaven and she flushed you right in front of me... *flashbacks to the plastic seaweed incident*

Who do I tag.... well anyone who wants to can jump right in! But I’ll tag @no-themes-just-memes @going-fancognito and @revalisimp but again, anyone feel free to hop in :P

folklore first impressions!

the 1 — don’t hate me for this but. HAYLOR RIGHTS. anyway so so fucking CUTE i’m gonna cry. “the greatest loves are over now” WAHHH IM GONNA CRY

cardigan — taylor if i ever meet you i’m getting you to write “stars around my scars” for a tattoo. watched the music video before i listened to the full album and i’m so glad i did. cinematic masterpiece. this song is so fucking good you guys holy shit. just the sentiment of the lyric “when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite”. anyway YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS BUT NOW I’M BLEEDING. guys. TYE PETER PAN REFERENCE IM. WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHINNG GNGNGNNG.

the last great american dynasty — WHO IS REBEKAH. these lyrics are so good holy shit. DID SHE JUST USE GAUCHE IN THIS SONG????? the layered harmonies on the chorus oh my god. “THERE GOES THE MADDEST WOMAN THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN” okay i havent listened to mad woman yet but if this is a parallel i’ll die. DID SHE JUST SAY BITCH??? i’m putting “she had a marvelous time ruining everything” on my gravestone. taylor please give us a music video. please. please. STOP HER VOCALS ON “I HAD A MARVELOUS TIME RUINING EVERYTHING”

exile — okay confession time i’ve never heard a bon iver song before and i thought he was a woman so his voice actually scared me. “you’re not my homeland anymore, so what am i defending now?” REAL SHIT???????? wait wait WAIT “I hit the Sunday matinée/You know the greatest films of all time were never made” and “I think I’ve seen this film before” IS THAT A PARALLEL???? the duet section “you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs” Taylor I’m crying and it’s your fault. NOT “we always walked a very thin line” THE PARALLEL TO HAUNTED I’M CRYINGG

my tears ricochet — okay I already posted about how this is gonna kill me the title the fact it’s track 5 the fact it’s self written i’m ready. HER VOCALS AT THE BEGINNING. “IF I’M ON FIRE YOU’LL BE MADE OF ASHES TOO” REAL FUCKING SHIT TAYLOR???????? “IF I’M DEAD TO YOU WHY ARE YOU AT THE WAKE” IM CONVULSING MY HEART IS LITERALLY RACING ARE YOU SHITTING ME “YOU KNOW I DIDNT WANT TO HAVE TO HAUNT YOU, BUT WHAT A GHOSTLY SCENE” the way i’m literally losing my mind right now. this is the best song i’ve ever heard. real shit. real fucking shit. “and I can go anywhere I want, just not home” IM FUCKING FERAL TAYLOR. THE VOCALS IN THE BRIDGEEEEEEE. this is her best track 5 I dont care. “Written by: Taylor Swift” THE POWER THAT HOLDS

mirrorball — when i first saw this name i thought of the fushigi not gonna lie. NOT THE ECHOEY VOCALS PLEASE. “i can change everything about me just to fit in” oh wow. oh wow oh wow oh wow oh wow oh wow. i’m crying right now. someone much more eloquent than i will write a thinkpiece about this and put it excellently but the notion of never showing your true self ‪and constantly changing to fit in and being a reflection of what other people want you to be....no i’m not okay‬

seven — oh shit we get right into this whatttttt okay. the vocals, I’ve already said i’m dead like 100 times in this but who cares i’m DEAD. no one is gonna get this but this song reminds me of spring awakening the musical. like seriously this is ilse singing to moritz. if you don’t know what that means go listen to the musical and then you will. the outro is so gorgeous oh my god

august — am i stupid or does this song remind me of danny and sandy from grease. like this is from sandy’s perspective. ignore me i will make connections to musical theatre even if it isn’t there. SO MUCH FOR SUMMER LOVE BABEYYYYY. HER VOCALS ON “YOU WERENT MINE TO LOSE” ARE YOU JOKING???? for the hope of it all. this is fifteen’s older sister don’t @ me. STOP WHEN IT GETS QUIET AND THEN THE MUSIC COMES BACK YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT MY EYES JUST BULGED OUT OF MY HEAD. yeah okay I’ll talk a lot about her lyricism in this but this song really made me wanna appreciate the instrumentals?? holy shit they’re so good. insanely good. what the hell taylor. oh my god

this is me trying — once again a round of applause to the instrumentals this intro is sick!! this feels like the last time’s optimistic sister. i hate it when people say that but like...it’s true. “so i got wasted, like all my potential” oh my GODDDDDDD. the vocals on “at least i’m trying” exCUSE ME?? okay going back to the grease thing this is danny’s perspective. period. jack antonoff and taylor swift is a duo that will go down in history.

illicit affairs — i have no words. no words. my favorite song on the album. holy shit. holy SHIT

invisible string — what’s so interesting about these songs is that they’re so intricate and complex and tell their own little stories that i barely wanna do this bc i don’t wanna focus on anything else than listening to the lyrics and making little music videos in my head. taylor has always been amazing at storytelling but this is next level. “a string that pulled me out of the wrong arms into that dive bar” with “dive bar on the east side where you at?” And “one single thread of gold tied me to you” with “deep blue, but you painted me golden”. wow. WOW. her little vocalizations at the end. i love her. so much

mad woman — THE SONG I WAS MOST EXCITED ABOUT WHEN I SAW THE TRACKLIST. DID SHE JUST SAW FUCK TAYLOR JUST SAID FUCK. taylor please give us a music video set in witch trial salem PLEASEEEE I HAVE ONE (1) REQUEST. “it’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together” IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII my heart is pounding so hard right now. what a TUNE WHAT A TUNE TAYLOR SWIFT DID THAT

epiphany — she sounds like an angel. yes i’m crying. is it stupid to say this makes me think of like a medic on the frontlines dealing with the traumas of war? probably. this is so gorgeous. the drums at the end that feel like a heartbeat. wow. wow. wow.

betty — TAYLOR SAID FUCK AGAIN i need to stop she’s a grown woman i can’t freak out when she curses. taylor make a music video for this but make the love interests two girls pls. nevermind just heard the james lyric. the key change?????? yeah i showed up at your party!!!!! will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?? STANDING IN YOUR CARDIGAN. william bowery whoever you may be (👀👀👀) thank you for this and god bless taylor swift

peace — so simple. so beautiful. yes i’m still crying. i love this song so much. wowowow

hoax — yeah the latter half of the album is just pure tears for me. “don’t want no other shade of blue but you?” Jesus Christ. Oh my god. “you knew the hero died, so what’s the movie for?” wow. wow. thank you Taylor. i love you so much

overall: yeah judging by the tears down my face it’s pretty aight. kidding this is a full blown masterpiece. literally album of the year. decade. millenium. my only critique is that there isn’t music videos for every song. everything is so intricate and poetic yet the entire album is so sonically cohesive and fluid i’m literally in awe. illicit affairs left me SPEECHLESS. holy fuck. i need a minute.

This is exactly the case of one anon message ruining a whole bunch of lives. But you asked for it, I’ll act upon it. Time to ruin your guys’ fucking weekend :)

So, yeah. First of all, that really is the full name of the video on youtube. Now that we got that out of the way, let’s focus on the apeshit feral shitstorm we’ve just listened to :)

To give you some context as of what I’ve been doing these past two days, upon the first listen (by which i mean i made it through the first verse and stopped because i couldn’t breathe), I was convinced this was a fake. It’s just another Nikki Tučková. This can’t be real. This CAN’T be serious, like, come on, that’s too much even for the Czech pop scene. So it was time to start digging around.

I googled Mr. Petr and the only kinda relevant-looking thing that popped up was this website. Now, bear in mind that this song came out 4 days ago, i was made aware of it 3 days ago, and since then the face of the Internet has changed drastically. So I’m staring at this dancer dude with a terrible english website, contemplating whether or not I should message this poor dude and offer my translation knowledge because it hurts my soul. But as I read through it, i was like... nah, that can’t be him. Although.... *violent flashback to the video, realizing he actually DOES dance really well*

So I continue digging and find exactly nothing. Then I finally decided to open the info card under the video and, voila, there’s a website! And WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT yes, it’s THE Michael Petr from StarDance. Also, just between us, he also has a rock project which sounds very suspiciously close to Trent’s Mystic Spiral from Daria.

So at that point I find an idnes article and I just know this whole thing is, indeed, meant very seriously and I turn into this very sad entity craving a hotdog.

Anyways! Time for the actual music breakdown!

1) It has a very generig Czech pop feel. There’s fucking nothing in that instrumental to make it memorable in any way. I tried to dig for something, i really tried, i found nothing, i was sad.

2) The whole lyrics don’t have one. single. rhyme. in it. I don’t know how on earth he did it, but this is like some wild dadaism shit. Phrasing doesn’t exist either.

3) On that note, there is NOT A SINGLE ROHLÍK IN THE VIDEO. But I’ll talk about 2) and 3) into more depth later.

4) The second I heard “ňamňamňamňamňam” my soul transcended into another realm

5) Dare I say it? I dare to say it. Michael neumí zpívat. Don’t get me wrong, he can maintain a tone, that’s nice. His voice is quite smooth and has a nice colour as well. Not interesting, but nice. But holy shit there’s exactly zero technique. Which might still not be a problem if there was at least some confidence/feel in it. Which is not. Therefore, Michael, in my eyes, can’t fucking sing and I’ll have this engraved on my gravestone out of spite if anyone tries to convince me otherwise. To elaborate a little, I didn’t listen just to this, I tortured myself by listening to all three of his so far released songs and it’s just not working. He sounds incredibly scared and not confidend while singing, which, considering his ego, is really interesting to me, you can clearly hear this dude hasn’t stood on stage singing EVER and he’s absolutely weirded out by the studio he’s recording at. And don’t even get me started on that harmonizing at the end... Holy shit. 

6) ON THIS NOTE! I shit you not, there’s an English version!

And believe it or not, it gives us a beautiful overview of everything that goes wrong in both the versions because, believe it or not, they differ A LOT.

I’m still a little puzzled about which of the versions happened first. He states in the idnes interview that the album is Czech-English, but one version clearly had to be first. I would guess the English version came out first because it actually RHYMES, but then again when you look at the Czech lyrics, they are not a translation. So what exactly happened there??? My guess is that the two versions were made in two different studios. I’d say the English version was done in America and the producer made Michael re-write the lyrics so that they rhyme, otherwise they wouldn’t want to have anything to do with such a shitty project. Yeah, the lyrics still suck but like... *sigh* listen, i don’t want to bash anyone for their knowledge of a foreign language. He clearly tried and I appreciate that, I’m just baffled by his confidence in his English abilities is all :’) But you can probably hear the English version differs even in the instrumental itself, it really adheres to the norms of American/Western notion of generic pop. You can also hear that the producer clearly FORBID Michael from doing the atrocious harmonizing, which I would love to publicly thank them for. The Czech version was obviously produced here, it has a more Czech feel to it and adheres to our norms instead. And the harmonizing is there. Now, I’m talking about the “ROHLÍK, DÁM SI JEDEN ROHLÍK” screamo situation which... is just all over the place, to put it kindly. I don’t know what the producer was thinking, but I can imagine that after dealing with Michael for some time, they just went “fuck it” and kept it in. Now, when we move to the last chorus, which has a gradual harmonizing added to it, I dare to guess it’s autotuned. Only slightly, but it is. Basically, it sounds way too flat (i mean his voice is overall real flat but the voices just “click” into each other way too well) and we know he tries to sing the harmonizing voices separately in the English version and it doesn’t go very well, does it. Last little note: Why is the English version on a different channel? I am confusion.

On the other hand, we can see that this whole project is a great example of over-production. The production value is huge. It’s well mixed (well, for what it is), the MV is a great quality, although a little stupid. But srsly, the dancemoves are 500% better than anything Aquababes’ve ever done, so at least that was nice. Also, 10/10 would DIE for Ms. Hotdog Lady, she’s having the time of her life and I’m here for that!

To give some more context, when I watched it 3 days ago, one day after its release, it had about 4k views, about 20 likes and about 400 dislikes. The comments were disabled. The English version had significantly less views, but the like/dislike ratio was similar, only the comments were enabled and, well... Let’s just say they aren’t anymore and for a very good reason. The numbers right now are about 26k views on Rohlíky and about 4k on Hot Dogs. The numbers of likes and dislikes are hidden with both of them. “Cesta”, the rock-ish song-ish thing, has about 800 views and everything is disabled as well. 

EDIT: Literally 10 seconds after posting this, the English version was deleted and uploaded on the same channel as Rohlíky. And guess what, you can still comment on it B^)

Movement: Nocturne 1/2

Time Frame: Shadowbringers MSQ. Spoilers accordingly up to Holminster Switch.

Notes: Grief and angst and a whole lot of comforting the best girl. Platonic SFW cuddling and comfort with an older Alisaie. Second chapter incoming.

Cross-posted to Ao3.

-

On the eve of Holminster Switch, Alvaar just wants to get some sleep on the first proper night he’s had in days. But there’s no rest for the wicked, and it’s more than worth staying up to comfort the person who needs it most.

Handling loss and grief is starting to feel old hat to him anyway.

-

With a fresh breeze from the first night sky over Lakeland in 100 years, Alvaar figured he was long overdue for some sleep. It didn’t make it any easier to find, especially when he knew Alisaie likely still grieved for Tesleen at Holminster’s Switch. In fact, he’d rather hoped to abate some of that unease with one of his old late-night talks with Alphinaud, but the Scholar had dismissed himself shortly after they’d arrived at the Crystarium.

He didn’t like leaving Alisaie behind, but he understood her request to be alone. To grieve in solitude as she had likely done many times before.

So he’d had a nice chat with some hunters in a bar, had a few ales, listened to Ardbert be suitably cryptic while he shrugged out of his gear and cleaned it, and fallen face first into his bed in little more than his boxers.

Perhaps it’s the stress of a foreign world that has him sleeping too hard to rouse at the light rap at his door. The faint creak as the door swings in stirs him just a little, ear twitching but writing it off as unimportant. It’s only when the chill of slim fingers settle to his chest that he blinks awake, tense and still as someone burrows in against his back in silence.

How he didn’t come awake swinging is a whole other mystery... But it’s the cursory glance at well-kept nails that has him speaking with certainty instead of hesitant question. “Alisaie? You’re cold, dear.”

He doesn’t receive a response, though on some level he didn’t expect her to. It’s not the first time she’d handled her grief in the quiet or the silence, but he supposed it’s the first time she’d invited herself into his bed. Briefly he ponders the scandal of it, more from not wanting to upset her brother than anything else, but for everywhere the chill clings to her it’s the hot press of her face against his back that quiets it. That has his hands slipping over hers and vainly trying to warm them up.

“Come on now dear, I’m not going anywhere,” he chides, the words long familiar as he whispers them. Repeated often in the Rising Stones as the months passed, uncertain for the fate of the others. In Ishgard after he’d finally felt the despair from his own intimate loss... “Let me up, I should really grab a shirt and get off this blanket. You’re freezing.”

Instead she shakes her head, fingers clutching a bit tighter against his skin and he blows out a sigh.

This long and still so much pride... they really are too alike.

“You took your boots off at least?” he asks gently, fingers soothing over hers for heat. Again, no response and he gives a theatric huff. “Stubborn.”

It isn’t hard to free himself, pushing himself up to grab the blanket still folded at the end of the bed and glancing into the room. He’s much too used to the shade of the Shroud, and he spots her sword and focus on the table and boots next to a chair in the moonlit dark easily. He’d always been rather at home in the night... It was what made that blanket of stars a relief to see again even after his brief time on the First in the blistering sands and on still watered shores.

Shaking out the blanket, he fusses it up over the both of them.

“You’ve handled your sword and focus?” he asks again, and this time he gets a small nod. “Good. A Warrior should always look after the equipment that looks after them,” he murmurs, tone quiet and soft.

Distraction. Speaking of mundane simple things instead of the more difficult situations that made the mind withdraw. He was familiar with it. He could recall the times Haurchefant had done the same for him, distracting him with easier things until his mind could unwind from whatever dark place it had been. The patient chatter that at least said you weren’t alone.

Slipping an arm under the Red Mage, he pulls her closer to the center of the bed with him before curling up around her protectively. Tucks her under his chin and holds her close, petting soft white strands idly a moment before resting his palm over the chilled length of an ear.

It takes a few moments for her to move. To shift closer and slip an arm around his back and bury her face against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” Alvaar murmurs softly. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have me. That’s a promise.”

It’s quiet between them, silence creeping into the shadows of the room as the Bard waits patiently. Let’s her warm up steadily from the chill.

Even waiting for them, her words catch him by surprise.

“It never gets easier... does it?” Her voice is soft in the quiet, hollow and sad, and even speaking the words she doesn’t move further. Merely waits for his reply and he can feel the expectation of it.

And for a moment, he almost wants to lie. Wants to offer some false hope or comfort. But he knows in these times of hardship and trial, truth is more important between them, no matter how painful it might be.

“No. It never does,” he sighs finally, squeezing her a bit tighter for a moment. “It hurts each time. The guilt tears into you each time. It rips and bleeds and hurts, every time. .... And... I hope it never stops hurting each time either.”

At that he feels her flinch, tilting her head as if to hear him better. He doesn’t need to see her expression to know the puzzlement and loss.

They’re old words. From distant memories. Standing at a different gravestone next to the faceless memory of the woman who had raised him. Rosa’s words. As he’d knelt in the dirt and asked her how to handle the pain. How to handle the loss and the heartache. Why bother loving anything when it hurt so much to have it taken away?

Words that were no less painful to remind himself over the last few years.

“For myself,” he starts quietly, taking in a steadying breath. “I hope it never gets easier. I hope it hurts. I hope it aches. I hope it tears me up inside. I hope each person lost lingers on me like a scar so I never forget it. I hope I never grow numb to what those people meant to me. I hope I never stop reaching out to others anyway, even knowing it might hurt. Even knowing that one day it can all end in tragedy. .... I hope I never stop trying to love and care about people.

“This world can be so cruel, Alisaie. This world will always seem to try and tear you down. And if you close off your heart to protect yourself, then that’s all it will ever seem. If you close off your heart to the pain, then it’s like you’re closing it off to all of that good too. Blocking yourself off from that joy and love in the world, no matter how brief it might be. So... don’t be afraid of that hurt. Don’t be afraid of what makes you human.

“.... I want it to hurt. I want that pain to make me strive harder to protect those beside me now. And I want it to linger and remind me of how beautiful the times I had with those lost were.”

Nuzzling into white hair he held tight for a moment. “It never gets any easier, but we can make it mean something. The ache of loss stays the same but carrying the weight of memory gets easier. Each voice, each scar, layering over into our personal song. ... I don’t ever want to forget a single part of it.”

A soft bitter snort left her, fingers gripping a bit tighter against his skin. “How like a Bard... you almost make it sound like some romantic notion and not an aching reminder of my failures...”

Alvaar falls quiet, unwilling to protest out of reflex and further unwilling to gloss over her own pains when he knows it will do no favors. But there’s a weight in the silence that follows, the faintest shift of her jaw that says she needs him to continue. That she wants to understand this curious belief he’s fostered through years of hardship.

“The very first Bards found their magic because of such things, Alisaie. From having to stoically watch as their comrades fell around them in battle, the first echoes of Bardsong came on the ringing of a bowstring instead of a harp. Hoarse voices rising over the sound of slaughter to give flight to that feeling of helplessness. Burning such awful memories into our hearts, harnessing that emotion to give strength to our comrades, carrying the burden of all that bitter agony with a compassionate heart and holding it as close as we do all the joyous memories we cherish... That is what makes a Bard.”

“And another lecture,” she murmured, tone empty of what was usually a teasing note but Alvaar didn’t take it to heart regardless when he can read it for what it is. “You speak as if you were there. Like you’ve heard it...” she continues softly.

Once more silence ranged between them for a few beats before he offered a simple reply. “Because I have.”

The Red Mage goes very still in his arms for a moment before tilting her head up slightly, “How so?”

Again, there’s a pensive pause. Alvaar was hardly one to speak about himself and his past, even as keen as he was to talk about Bards and their histories. Another deep sigh left him before he began. “The first Bardsong I learned is the Mage’s Ballad. A song given to me by the crystal I carry, ‘The Soul of the Bard.’ But the first song I learned myself was The Warden’s Paean. A song that allows you to aid others in time of need and safeguard them from future danger temporarily. And I learned it by putting the restless souls of the fallen to their eternal rest.

“Their regrets, potent enough to chain a soul to its remains for years after death, have marked upon my heart and soul and found resonance. I have felt that fervent wish, that desperation, that wailing cry of torment... from in life and from the hereafter. I know that song and its rhythm as intimately as my own heartbeat, Alisaie, because I have also lost everything that I held dear to me. Because I have lain mired and heartsick wishing I had done something to stop it. A Bard cannot sing of anything but a heartfelt truth if they wish to use their magic. The words, the notes, those are of no consequence. But it’s the underlying sincerity in that feeling which remains the same and lets us channel Bardsong.”

Alvaar hears the soft huff she gives, knowing he’s gone on long enough. So he heaves a slow sigh, squeezing her again briefly. “I know. It will all sound flat and hollow. It won’t sound like the pain that you feel, and frankly, I wouldn’t insult you by saying I know what you’re feeling... It’s yours Alisaie. It’s a feeling that is yours and yours alone. For now, just grieve, I’ll be here with you for as long as you need. Tonight, and tomorrow, and all the days after if you require.”

There’s the faintest twitch of her fingers against his back, the lightest drag of nails as she balls them into a fist and her arm tightens about him with more strength than he remembers. Again, there’s a grim reminder of the time that has passed. Months in a foreign land, and a wiry solidness to her slightly taller frame that’s new and wholly her own. She’s familiar but changed, forged further in the flames of conflict and heat of desert sands.

The choked sob that leaves her shuddering frame, however, is something he knows from experience.

“I loved her...” The words are strained, warped with tears and grief as she buries herself against his chest and finally cries. The sort of deep and broken sobs that sound a little different from this side of them.

It’s not something that catches him by surprise. At least, not right now. When he’d first heard the few lilting notes of a familiar flute after he’d reunited with Alisaie in Amh Araeng he’d been puzzled but brushed it off as not his to question. The music he occasionally heard that accompanied people, his gift as a Bard and perhaps as one blessed with the Echo, could sometimes give him clues to things. Personalities, quirks, and even what he hazarded as commonalities.

For the longest time he’d heard the same somber but dignified tune between Alisaie and Alphinaud. Something they’d shared with Louisoix. Some weird quirk he’d chalked up to common blood and legacy. The drive and sense of duty to continue what their beloved Grandfather had started. In the years since he had heard the changes and nuance they gained, as each sibling grew with their experiences. Still not far removed from that canticle, but altering and molding through it, separate unique takes to a theme.

And so had this instrument woven its way, subtle and soft, into those somber notes of Alisaie’s song. Something warm, gentle and loving. The quiet solo that had whispered to him as he’d walked with Tesleen to the Inn at Journey’s End in harmony to the hiss of sand underfoot. A song that had reassured him there would be no trap waiting for him, but an important answer he sought.

The difference a few months could make on someone... in a foreign place at the edge of a world on the brink of desolation and destruction. The final resting place for those lost souls forsaken and beyond saving...

He would have fallen in love too. The same way he had fallen so hopelessly in love when his own sad and weary heart had learned such gentle kindness from a loving soul.

“I...” He wants to apologize for the world’s cruelty. To say it will be okay. But he knows himself how little, how hollow their meaning and sound. How cruel they are even as a perceived kindness...

“I’ve got you,” he repeats instead, the words finding their way with her next pained sob. “I’m here. You don’t have to keep it all locked up inside, Alisaie. I’m here for you.”

They’re words that had shattered him like glass years before in the Falling Snows. And though it’s hard to stay still and silent, to listen to the cries and offer what weak scraps of comfort he could, he doesn’t flinch from it. Because loss and heartbreak are an awful and terrible storm, but as weak a comfort as it may seem companionship through it means everything. And though he doesn’t have the gift that Haurchefant had, the ability to say the most comforting things when they needed to be heard, he does his best with what he has. And Alvaar had, for most of his life, used music where words had failed him.

He begins to hum, something quiet, something soft. So unobtrusive she doesn’t really hear it until her tears have finally stopped. When she’s sniffling into the handkerchief he’d offered, summoned from whatever small pocket space he kept his things, and the slow notes filter through.

“Alvaar?” she asks at length, voice harsh from tears but otherwise quiet.

“Hm?”

“Is that,” a pause as her words crack to clear her throat tiredly, “the song you were talking about?”

“For Warden’s Paean? Yea.”

“... I’ve never heard it before.”

“Well... it’s my take on it. Something personal to me. Not all Bards need sing the same song for the effect,” he murmured.

“It’s... gentler than I thought it would be,” she mused softly. “Almost like a lullaby.”

“Different rendition. Don’t get me started, you know I’ll wax poetic all night and bore you to t-... sleep.” He gives a slow faintly pained sigh at the blatant adjustment. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem bothered.

“... Would it... be alright if I didn’t talk about it right now? Later... I think. Just not right now,” she murmurs.

Ruffling her hair gently he hums in agreement. “Whenever you like or even not at all. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Just... know that you can talk to me about it. Any of it. Even if it’s just memories or something unrelated.”

Alisaie nodded slightly, again her fingers shifting against his back and tightening subconsciously a moment before her next question.

“Would it... may I stay? With you I mean... like this...” It’s hesitant, a touch wary. A fear of rejection he’s familiar with. The tension in her shoulders eases as the Bard gives her a reassuring squeeze of the arm around her back.

“If you wish. Just maybe let me get dressed. It’ll be a bit more comfortable for me that way.”

There’s a pause of silence where she shifts back to look at him in confusion before glancing down at where her hand is pressed to his chest. “Oh.” Another beat. “Oh! Yes of course!”

Alvaar at least manages not to laugh at her as she quickly scrambled out from under the blanket and sits up on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched in embarrassed mortification. Instead he hauls himself up, a brief flicker of light and whisper of aether in the dark as he summons in one of his thinner tunics and tugs it on before doing the same with a worn pair of cotton pants. Slipping to the edge of the bed, he pauses to ruffle her hair fondly before rising to his feet. “Need a change of clothes? I don’t recommend sleeping in one’s battle attire, but I won’t judge either. Done it plenty myself.”

She lifts her head at that, staring into the room blankly a moment before sighing faintly. “I likely should. I have something in my kit...” Her words trailed off; expression pensive in the silver edged glow of the moonlight reflecting off the floor. “... I should take a bath too I suppose.”

“If you like. I’ll wait for you. Otherwise I’ve got a wash basin you can use,” he offered, long strides already seeing him across the expansive room. Casting a glance back at her and the listless stare she was giving at nothing, he frowned faintly. “Maybe that. It’s been a long day.” Gripping the water pitcher, he tapped a finger against the ceramic, setting a steady quarter time.

The faint vibration that started to build in the air wasn’t lost on him. In the still and quiet he could feel the faintest pulse of wind currents against his skin as he started to hum softly. A soft but loving piece, the flicker of flames and a grief-stricken firebird in his memories. By the time he’d returned to the bedside with pitcher and basin both, the water he poured into it was steaming in the cool air.

He missed Alisaie’s puzzled expression, but not the inflection of it on her words. “I thought you said you were aether inept?”

“I am. A little less so with your tutelage... but don’t fret a Bard for their tricks. Lavender or rose?”

“What?”

“Which do you prefer? Lavender is better for sleep they say but I like roses myself. Very classic.”

“I... lavender I suppose. ... Wait, you carry around bath oil?” she asked after a moment when he summoned in one of his packs and pulled a bottle from it. Giving a measured splash into the basin before stashing it back and swirling the contents nonchalantly.

“I’m a fop at heart Miss Leveilleur. You don’t think I step off the battlefield looking this sharp because of Hydaelyn’s blessing, do you? Because I assure you... it does nothing. Beauty is pain,” he remarked lightly, waving a fresh washcloth at her before holding it over. “Here. I’ll take your gear to the mender. I noticed a few tears in that jacket of yours. A lady needs her privacy after all, so take your time.”

Taking the offered cloth after a moment she heaved a slow but grateful sigh. “Thank you. I... would it be too troublesome to take my dress too? It would be nice to get it cleaned and repaired.”

That drew the Bard up short a moment before he nodded. “Sure. I’ll keep my back turned. Blankets behind you for modesty,” he replied, quickly doing an about face to stand at attention and huffing when she snorted out a soft laugh.

“Thanks,” she murmured, this one a bit more heartfelt as she pressed the fabric into his hands that were resting behind his back.

“Of course. I’ll be back,” he returned, quickly excusing himself and grabbing her leather jacket and boots up as he left.

Shutting the door behind him he had all of a second to be puzzled by the white glow and luminescent fur of a rather large carbuncle sitting outside his door before he noticed Alphinaud standing farther behind it. A moment of equal surprise passed them both with the distant sounds of revelry still echoing through the Pendants. The Scholar stared at him silently in confusion before his gaze flicked down to the clothes in Alvaar’s arms.

When the deep blue of his gaze locked back on the Bards face, a flicker of something protective and angry that he hazarded was rapidly approaching murderous, it resonated in an actual bolt of fear piercing the Warrior of Lights heart. He’d fought on three war fronts in the last few years with a staunch and unwavering conviction.

And in the face of one Alphinaud Leveilleur, who was already settling a hand on the tome at his hip, he immediately put his hands up in surrender. “I can explain.”

“Start.”

Always, Evermore

Kranna Week 2019 Day 6

Characters/Relationships: Kratos/Anna, Kranna, Lloyd Irving

Rating: T - For slight sensual themes

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Prompt: Always/Forever

Word Count: 1,573

Summary: Before the final battle with Mithos, Kratos visits Anna’s grave one last time. He falls asleep and dreams about the significant moments in their time shared together, and ultimately comes to an agreement regarding the answer to a question she once asked that keeps haunting him. Manga/OVA canon where everyone lives to fight in the final battle. 

Author’s Note: This might be sort of long because I have a few references, so if you want to just skip this and go straight to the story, the story will be after the break. 

About five years ago, I came across this song (skip to 1:25 for the song, unless you want to listen to some banter) by the frontman of one of my favorite bands. I immediately thought of Kranna, and it wasn’t until three years later that I would get to hear the studio version, and it was everything I wanted and more. Around that time, I was inspired to make a gifset based on the chorus of the song. So, I was heavily inspired by this song in order to write this one-shot, and I hope it’s more of an unique take on a songfic.

I would also like to credit this song for helping me get through some major writer’s block in order to write the majority of this story, there’s just something calming about it to me I guess. 

Parts of this were also inspired or loosely inspired by the drama CD ‘A long time ago’, particularly the track “To Protect”, or “The Ones I Must Protect”. You can read all of that here. You’ll probably notice that I use one quote a few times throughout the story. I also heavily relied on some of the material found in Kratos’ biography that was posted a few years ago.

Lastly, if you bought the Kratos zine by @moldy-mold, you might notice that I was inspired by the piece, ‘Forgiveness’ for a certain part of this story.

Now, without further ado, let’s move on with the story, which is after the break.

           “Always together? Always… Always…”

           It was a question that haunted him often, even when everything felt meaningless after her death; with his world having lost all its light and hope. A question in which he wasn’t sure if he agreed with the answer quite yet.

           Kratos knelt before Anna’s grave for what would be the final time, explaining to her how strong Lloyd, their son, had become. He missed her terribly still, hoping that someday he could join her in the afterlife, but that day would not arrive anytime soon; which was another lesson Lloyd taught him after their one on one battle a few days before.

           Noishe was curled up next to the gravestone, sleeping, and the protozoan’s presence gave him a fleeting sense of comfort from his current thoughts. Lloyd and the rest of the party had gone to bed hours ago, as it was around midnight, not aware that he was there. The next day, they would fight the final battle against Mithos, and he hoped they would allow him to join in one last time.

           Averting his eyes from her name on the gravestone and bowing his head, Kratos began to reminisce about a time long ago when the three, and eventually the four of them would travel around as if they were the only ones. He thought about the time where the four of them camped out one night in the middle of an open field and looked at the stars. Lloyd was sitting on his shoulders and pointing at various constellations in the sky, wondering what the names of each one was. He then recalled a conversation they had a few days later as they watched Lloyd playing and running around with Noishe, giggling and smiling all the while. Kratos had asked her why he looked so happy, and her response was that he realized that the world was pure and beautiful, a wonderful place to live. She was right, or so he felt at the time, simply because the two of them were alive and gave him a reason to keep going. The conversation ended with Anna asking the question that kept haunting him.

           “Always together? Always… Always…”

           He let out a small sigh as his head and back slumped against the grave and closed his eyes. Another memory taking place shortly after they got married flashed before him. They were curled up by a campfire on a chilly night out in the desert, with her in his arms and wrapped in a worn-out blanket. She was starting to fall asleep against his chest when she mumbled the next few words.

           “Forever mine, I’ll be forever yours…”

           He softly smiled and kissed the top of her head before leaning down to whisper in her ear and kiss her cheek.

           “Always, evermore…”

           They were married in a covert location by a member of the Desian Resistance group they were in communication with, and those words were some of their wedding vows.

           The following memory that appeared before him happened about year after the previous one. It took place following a night of intimacy on a cold night in November. They were inside an abandoned cabin with a fireplace and their own futon and blankets. The two were situated in front of the fireplace on the futon the next morning, with Kratos once again holding Anna in his arms. She leaned against his chest and looked up at him, giving him a wry but tired smile. He leaned down to whisper something to her.

           “Forever mine, I’ll be forever yours…”

           Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes, letting out a blissful sigh as he kissed her neck before tracing a few scars along her shoulder with rough kisses. Anna reached up to run her fingers through his auburn locks before responding.

           “Always, evermore…”

           She had always thought she wouldn’t be able to have children due to her experience at the ranch and the frequent illness caused by her Exsphere. Destiny would later prove her wrong.

           It was twilight when he jolted awake, unaware that he had fallen asleep. Lloyd and the others would be up in a few hours, and suddenly he felt a pain in his chest, as if something was missing. That something was her, and once again he felt himself missing her terribly, needing her. He closed his eyes once again, a tear beginning to trickle down one side of his face as he felt the spirit-like presence of her hands touching his face and lulling him into another dream, another memory.  

           This next memory would take place a few days after Lloyd was born in a Desian Resistance group hideout just outside of Izoold. There were complications from the birth, causing Anna to become ill and requiring bed rest. Kratos was scared he was going to lose her again, just like a time before they were married where she became gravely ill.

           He rushed into the room, and upon seeing that her eyes were open, and that she was sitting up in bed, frantically embraced her.

           “Kratos…?”

           She gave him a slightly worried look as his arms gently gripped her shoulders.

           “I thought I was going to lose you again,” He cleared his throat, referring to Lloyd, “That we were going to lose you.”

           “Oh, Kratos…” She gave him that gentle but knowing smile that she had whenever he worried about her.

           Anna cupped his cheek before leaning in to kiss him, hoping that would assuage some of his worry. He reciprocated before letting out a sigh of relief. She then softly held his face in her hands, her eyes boring into his as her visage turned serious.

           “Remember our wedding vows? No matter what happens to me I will always be with you and Lloyd. Forever mine, I’ll be forever yours…”

           Kratos gently placed his forehead against hers before replying.

           “Always, evermore…”

           Her positivity and determination under difficult or trying circumstances was one of the many things he loved about her. His strength, gentleness, and resolve to protect, along with his willingness to atone for his wrongdoings, were just a few of the things she loved about him.

           The final memory he would recall before waking would take place a few months after the previous one, when Lloyd was just a couple months old. A street artist in Palmacosta painted two small pictures of the three of them, which was Anna’s idea, though she wouldn’t tell him what she had planned for them. He wouldn’t understand until later what her plans were.

           “Kratos, I’m going out for a while. You don’t mind taking care of Lloyd while I’m gone?”

           Kratos, holding Lloyd, who was sound asleep, while sitting at the edge of their bed at the inn, looked up at her, his face stern and clearly worried.

           “Where are you going? How long are you going to be gone?”

           She gave him that gentle smile once again, noticing the worry written all over his face. He had been like that since even before they were married, worried that something might happen to her when she was out in public and he wasn’t there to protect her.

           “I won’t be gone very long, an hour at most. There’s just a little something I want to buy at one of the shops down the street from here.”

           He decided against inquiring further as she walked over and gave him a kiss on his forehead before leaning down to give Lloyd a kiss on his as well.

           Then she left, leaving him to his own devices, and came back about an hour later just like she promised. In her hand she held a small box and walked over towards the small bedside table where the portraits had been placed. He wordlessly watched her as she took out a gold pendant from the box and placed one of the portraits inside.

           “A locket?” He thought as his visage turned curious.

           “There!” She exclaimed as she held the locket towards him. “This is for you!”

           “Me? But why?”

           She sat down next to him on the side of their bed, unclasped the chain and placed it around his neck. Later on, she would put the other portrait inside the other locket, which was for her to wear.

           “Well, I thought that if anything happened to me and Lloyd, that you would have something tangible to remember us by. A reminder that we’ll always be with you, no matter what.”

           Kratos was visibly moved by the surprise gift from her.

           “Forever mine, I’ll be forever yours…” He murmured as he pulled her in for a kiss.

           Anna kissed his cheek before responding, “Always, evermore…”

           He woke up shortly after dawn, coming to the realization with that last dream that a part of her would always be with him, those memories would always be with him; and with Lloyd now in possession of the locket, a part of both of them would always be with him. He finally agreed with the answer to her question, the question that now no longer haunted him. She was right, no matter what, they would always be together.

           “Always together? Always… Always…”

                                                 Close your eyes

                                             And dream me home

                                   Forever mine, I’ll be forever yours

                                               I’ll be forever yours

                                               I’ll be forever yours

                                   Always, evermore, and on and on

                                   Always, evermore, and on and on

                                   Always, evermore, and on and on

                                                Always, evermore

Update

Warning: Suicide Mention, nothing too in-depth just references to the discussion surrounding it.

In reference to this post, it finally happened. I got to see my favorite band Twenty One Pilots live about a week ago and I’m still reeling from the experience. I went to the concert with my sister and my dad, who are both big Twenty-One Pilots fans. We got decked out in DIY Trench outfits--my sister was afraid that we’d be the only ones dressed like that, but two-thirds of the concert showed up in similar garb so we blended right in. I would show you a pic of my outfit, but I’m paranoid about sharing pictures of myself online heh.

I was afraid going into the concert that the loud music and crowd would hinder my experience. Far from it. The overall production was amazing, my dad commented it felt like watching the Grammys live and I have to agree with him. Even if you aren’t a fan of their music, it’d be hard to walk away from that concert without admitting Tyler and Josh are great performers. They did an amazing job engaging with all of the crowd and making them feel a part of the performance. Tyler even acknowledged the upper decks several times.

It was so surreal for me to be in a a sea of total strangers screaming lyrics that have grown to mean so much for me personally. There was something about hearing those songs live that caused me to see them in a different light than before.

It’s strange. Art can be the most impersonal personal thing in the world.  A creator can bare their soul to the world in a way that outsiders can latch onto and relate, but no one truly knows how personal a piece of art is but the creator themselves. I really respect Tyler on his stance on holding back on telling the meanings of songs in interviews and letting the listener interpret what he means, coming up with their own meanings for a song. It’s a lesson I think all writers can glean from.

There’s some critics of Twenty One Pilots is that their songs are too dark, too depressing. It’s why they get the “emo” label slapped onto them. It’s true that their songs discuss heavy topics, but what I think mainstream fails to recognize that the discussion of topics like suicide isn’t the equivalent of romanticism. I mean, Neon Gravestones pretty overtly challenges the glorification surrounding suicide.

Personally, it feels like the mainstream’s tactic on handling mental health issues is shoving it under a rug and pretending it doesn’t exist. Sure, they say they want to foster an open and loving environment for those struggling, but when someone opens a discussion about it, immediately they get shot down.  

What I love about Twenty One Pilots is they’re not afraid to challenge the status quo. Whether it’s through changing genres midway through songs or by discussing topics seldom touched by other artists. Not only does Tyler constantly relates his struggles with anxiety and depression in his songs, but also there is always an underlying current of Hope in there somewhere.

Sometimes it’s faint, but it’s there and you can trace it from Self-Titled all the way to Trench. He is constantly urging the listener and perhaps even himself to stay alive. Truce is one that immediately comes to mind:

Stay alive, stay alive for me

You will die, but now your life is free

Take pride in what is sure to die

Really, it should be no surprise as to how Twenty-One Pilots has impacted so many people’s lives in a positive way. It’s for this reason their music has played a part in helping me keep moving forward in life.

I mentioned in my last post that going to this concert was fulfilling a promise to my past self, that it was a closing of a chapter for me. It really does feel that way, that I am now staring down at the blank chapter that is the start of the rest of my life.

I will admit the hype and adrenaline of the concert inevitably led to a post-concert depression crash, but I don’t regret seeing them for a second. I hope in the future to have another opportunity to see them live and in the meantime, to keep on moving forward, one step at a time //-//

Music For Diviners - Forest Swords ‘Stonemilker’ Remix

It feels weird to write a post about Björk and only focus on one song. While not a lot of her music is what I’d consider “useful” for divination purposes, she is definitely a leading artist in terms of translating intimate spiritual ideas and revelatory experiences into song, both lyrically and in her musicianship.

See also: her visionary soundtrack for Drawing Restraint 9, which she co-starred in with ex-husband Matthew Barney. 

See also: Vulnicura, her album dedicated to the loss of said ex-husband (he isn’t dead, he just may as well be), in which she attempted to musically capture the all-too-relatable experience of the wide-open heart suffering an unthinkable blow. 

“Stonemilker” is the first track on that latter album, depicting the last glow of love, the personal moments of bargaining and deliberating with oneself during the times when a flawed relationship still seems salvageable. All isn’t lost, as long as the lovers can “synchronize our feelings” and settle on a “mutual coordinate.” But weighing her options in whispered tones, the singer discovers an essential imbalance between them, and senses their fate will rest on the power of her love, not his:

Who is open chested And who has coagulated Who can share And who has shut down the chances

That’s a bargain all of us accept, from time to time. But from this point onward, each additional song pushes her further and further into the unthinkable. The fourth track, “Black Lake,” distills the tragedy of heartbreak into ten luxurious minutes of perfect anguish.

And that’s not even the lowest point, if you can believe it This mood grips the album until the final three songs, which find our devastated heroine (and she definitely paints herself as one, presenting the experience of heartbreak as part of a hero’s journey for all those who dare to open up all the way) to be atomized by grief, her thoughts scattered, her mood numb and contemplative, the healing instincts kicking in but finding precious little of herself left to work with.

Artwork for the album finds her prostrate, ripped open, fossilized in the muck of her own despair, the heart itself still glowing like a nuclear reactor post-meltdown. Mouth, heart, and sex symbolically agape, she’s transformed into her own gravestone: a monument to all who have lost themselves in love.

But in the final song, “Quicksand,” she finds herself standing at a new spiritual threshold, the kind we tend to avoid at all costs: 

When I'm broken, I am whole / And when I'm whole, I'm broken

This revelation will serve as a launchpad for Björk’s new life, the one she saw as only a remote possibility back in “Stonemilker,” which she has only embraced as a last resort. She addresses this directly in "The Gate,” the first single from her followup album, Utopia (which also marks the return of “Black Lake” collaborator Arca).

My healed chest wound Transformed into a gate Where I receive love from Where I give love from

And I care for you, care for you I care for you, care for you Care for you, care for you I care for you, care for you

Split into many parts Splattered light beams into prisms That will reunite

If you care for me, care for me If you care for me, care for me Care for me, care for me And then I'll care for you, care for you

But note the order of operations here: she will offer her love in response to being loved. If you care for her, then she will care for you. She’s open, practically glowing with an abundance of love, but never again will she attempt to wring milk from a stone, lest she become stone herself.

If you can’t tell, I’m a big fan. So chasing down obscure remixes of various songs is recurring pastime, and I also love going on fishing expeditions just to see what kind of weird fan-made bullshit is floating around out there. 

That’s how I found Forest Swords’ 45-minute remix of “Stonemilker,” embedded up top. The words “45-minute remix” alone were crazy enough to draw me in, regardless of what song it was. “This can’t possibly be good!” I thought, “...But if it is, then it’s my new favorite thing.”

Reader, I’m sure you can guess what happened next. Or maybe you’ve already pressed Play on the video and are hearing it for yourself. 

This “remix” is basically a compilation of sounds and tones from the song, omitting Björk’s lyrics altogether, sampling her vowel sounds and ululations. weaving an atmospheric tapestry that can be wrapped around the listener like a protective cloak. I’ve performed many of the readings on this site with this playing in the background, and I’m always caught off-guard when it actually ends — so effective is the spell it casts. 

I’m not familiar with Forest Swords, but anyone who would create a track like this is probably worth exploring in depth. You are my people, Forest Swords!

I’ve endeavored not to think too hard about the symbolic qualities imparted by this song/album into the remixed version. At the oozing heart of “Stonemilker” is this rallying cry contained in the chorus:

We have emotional needs, oh needs, oh needs, oh... I wish to synchronize our feelings, our feelings Oh, show some emotional respect, oh respect, oh...

Addressed though it may be to one specific individual (like so much of our music is) there is a transcendent quality to this expression of it. It’s a statement of intent — the kind you find in spellwork. It’s also a polite delineation of boundaries — not entirely unlike a banishing ritual. 

It also serves as a sort of warning to the listener. Sometimes, simply by drawing and maintaining important boundaries, you end up losing that which you imagined you could never survive losing. And then something weird happens... you survive. And while you may never be able to paint a happy face on the experience, eventually you understand how important it was to protect your heart with those boundaries in the first place. Your heart functioned exactly as it was made to... which means you can go ahead and forgive yourself, even if forgiving the other person is not an option.

Vulnicura came out in the fall of 2014, in the weeks after I’d ended my relationship of 11 years. Looking back, it is an honor to be able to say that, after listening to it just once, I reached out to my ex to make sure he listened to it too. I knew his heart was just as broken as mine, and that it would be soothed (somewhat) by finding itself expressed through such a scalding work of art. And he was able to accept that, and listen to the album, and we were able to find sympathy for each other and ourselves in that shared sonic backdrop. 

Because of that experience, it’s not an album I can revisit very often. Listening to it again in order to write this post, I found the tears flowing fresh as ever. For her, for me, for him, for all of us. But love is one of those poisons hat contains its own cure, and I think it’s meaningful that Björk feeds that to her listeners as well as to herself, instead of just inviting us to wallow in the depths carved out by this great love, as so many other artists have.

That’s why I recommend the Forest Swords 45-minute “Stonemilker” remix to those who are healing, or who are attempting to heal others. Sometimes we need to sit in that glow, but are unable to find it in ourselves. That’s what music is for, isn’t it? 

And as a little scoop of sorbet following this big meal of a post, I am attaching another remix here at the end: an 8-bit Nintendo version of “Stonemilker” that never fails to put a smile on my face. When Shakespeare wrote “If music be the food of love, play on!” he probably didn’t have The Legend of Zelda in mind, but knowing how many people (including me!) have used video games to cope in the aftermath of a profound emotional loss, I can’t help but think he’d approve.

This has been another installment of Music For Diviners. Thanks for listening, more will be coming soon!

642

If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? My obvious choices would be Beyoncé and Hayley Williams. But to change it up a bit, I would love to meet Meghan Markle. What's the first line of the nearest book you can reach? It’s the preface, and it says, “The MSA Simulated College Admission Test Modules are written for the potential college freshmen who need to prepare for college entrance tests given by the country’s finest universities and colleges.” Hah, it’s a college entrance test reviewer. Gabie’s sister is part of the next batch who will be taking the exams, so I’m passing on my old reviewers and modules to her which explains why this is the book nearest to me right now. What does the last text message on your phone say? “Let’s talk on fbc” If you could be any colour of crayon, what would you be? Burgundy or maroon. I like bold colors. If you could be anywhere in the universe right now, where would you be? I woulddddd like to be at the farthest tip of the universe, just so we can finally learn just how big it all is.

Do you have a strange talent? If so, what is it? I can recite the entire screenplays of Titanic, The Proposal, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which makes me an awful companion for these movies. If you discovered a new species of animal, what would you call it? I’d leave it up to the scientists to name it tbh because I might probably give it an awful name without meaning to. What's the weirdest name for a phobia? Most of them already sound pretty weird to me lmao. For instance I’d never expect acrophobia to refer to a fear of heights, because it just sounds like a fear of acrobats :(( And triskaidekophobia sounds nothing like a fear of the number 13. If you ever had the chance, would you eat a frog? Yes. I’ve already eaten frog legs as it is. They taste just like chicken. Do you prefer being indoors or outdoors? Depends on where I am when it comes to either. I can enjoy both. When you're indoors, what will you most likely be doing? Indoors can mean a lot of things dude. I can be strolling around, eating, going through my phone, playing bowling, watching a movie, etc. Are you good at lying? I can lie if I have to, but I hate doing it. What was the last lie you told? I didn’t technically lie but like I had to act fake last Friday around a guy I don’t particularly like, but had to hang out with because he’s Angela and Hans’s friend. I kinda had to lie through my personality and show him that everything was okay, which I think counts? Hahaha. I can’t remember the last verbal lie I had to tell. The next song that comes up is a new emotion: I don’t have anything playing on my Spotify. What's your favourite food? Burgers, for sure. What is your greatest weakness? Chewy chocolate chip cookies. What's the weirdest thing you've said whilst drunk? I don’t remember half the shit I say when I’m drunk, but I bet those bits that I forget are the weird ones. Do you collect anything obscene or unusual? If yes, what do you collect? Nope, no weird collections in my room. Finish the sentence: What if... Everybody hates what ifs, there’s no need to trigger right now. What's your favourite smell? I like food smells, basically. I like the smell of chicken being fried, curry being cooked, cookies being baked, the smell of bakeries and coffee shops, my order getting placed in front of me... I just love food aahhhh. If you were ever granted one single wish, what would you wish for? To have all the money that I would ever need and want. You're given the chance to name a newly found city. What do you call it? I’d probably have to borrow an ethnic word for this, because the Filipino language is pretty badass. What do you like about your favourite band? Their songs are always intensely personal and relatable, they aren’t afraid to switch music styles, they keep going back to the Philippines heheheh, and they ALWAYS insist that they’re a band – it’s seen in how Hayley always wants to be credited as ‘Hayley Williams from Paramore’ in all her gigs, and never just as Hayley Williams. Are you creative? I wouldn’t say that. But now you got me all spooked because this was the theme of the first episode of the Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared videos D: What is the meaning of life to you? I never go on Tumblr for deep questions like this, so pass. What do you consider yourself a number one fan of? That’s a bold statement, but I’d like to think that’s me with Audrey Hepburnnnn. What's the luckiest thing that's ever happened to you? One time I was driving a little fast when the car in front of me suddenly stopped to take a turn. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to hit the brakes and if my car could slow down enough not to hit them; and at the time I was already thinking about either crashing to my death or dealing with an angry driver (even though they were the dumbass for suddenly stopping). I didn’t hit the car, but there was a literal centimeter of space left between my car and theirs; my car also got shaken up from its brakes getting floored that the engine made a weird sound for a few seonds. I was left overwhelmed and with so much adrenaline so I ended up crying for like a full hour after. Imagine you've just started a band. What would the band be called? I’m terrible with names so I hope this is the last question asking me to come up with a name for something. The name of your first album: BOY AM I WRONG. The name of your first single: You write your autobiography, the title is: What's your biggest pet peeve? Gotta be a tie between freeloaders and arriving late. What do you wish the weather could be like right now? I’m always wishing it were raining and that it could always be a little colder. What's the weirdest pet name you've ever heard? Recently I saw someone I know have the pet name ‘bubbap’ for their bf, which was new to me. What were you doing this time last year? Ooh, luckily I had a 2019-themed Instagram where I tried to take one photo every day for the year 2019 and it covers January 14! My photo for that day was my wrist covered in lipstick swatches, which I now remember as the day Kate, Jo, Aya, Laurice, and I went to UPTC, snacked at a milk tea place and browsed through makeup. I don’t remember the rest of the stuff that we did, though. What will you be doing this time NEXT year? I’m guessing I will be asleep because I have to wake up early for my job, whatever it is. If you were a superhero, what would your magic power be? Time travel. What's your biggest secret? This Tumblr. What makes a great relationship? It’s such a cliche answer but communication really makes everything better. Also, knowing one another’s love languages. What goes through your mind when you see 'that awkward moment when' posts? Nothing, I just internally hope that the rest of the sentence pertains to an actual awkward moment and not just a completely normal situation, which seems to be the case for most of those posts. How do you win over people's hearts? I’m a listener, so I just whip that weapon out and let them talk while I nod along and ask questions every now and then to let them know I’m paying attention. What's your biggest obsession? Food. What's the worst decision you've ever made in life? I don’t know. I don’t dwell on bad decisions so I’ve most likely forgotten the ones I did make in the past. What do you want written on your gravestone? I’m not yet sure. Something witty, for sure. Your favourite quote is? It’s 12:17 AM and I’m all outta energy to think of quotes that I like. What is a weird habit you have? Playing with, and sometimes pulling at, my eyebrows and eyelashes. It mostly happens when I have bouts of anxiety. If you were on a plane beside your favorite celebrity, what would you do? Say hi, tell them I’m a fan, and get on with my business so that I look all cool :((( I don’t know if I can pull that off with Kristen but that’s definitely my plan. Describe yourself with a song title? That I’m So Tired song by Lauv and Troye Sivan. Why would someone use an umbrella? Because rain? Or sunlight? If you could see into the future, what would you do? I’d look into it, because I hate uncertainty. Why is shampoo clear and conditioner not? Idk about yours, but mine both aren’t. You've created your own recipe. What do you name it? U g h. Do you have lots of floor space in your bedroom? No, not really. This room was meant for my youngest sibling so it’s been small from the get-go. For some reason I called dibs on it when I was 10 because my parents meant to have me share a room with my sister and I was NOT a fan of that – simply put, I called dibs on my current bedroom because it was a solo bedroom (my brother was 4 at the time and didn’t want to stay in a room all by himself, so it was technically up for grabs). I have the smallest room now, but honestly it’s ok. I don’t need a lot of space and besides, I’m moving out very soon hahaha. What time do you like to stay awake until? It’s different every night. Are you a dedicated person? To causes or responsibilities I’m passionate about, yes. What happened in the last dream you had? Not sure. I forget most of them. What's your favourite day of the week and why? Friday, because weekeeeeeeeeeeeeeeend. If you're at the beach, what are you most likely doing? I’m always doing either of these: sunbathing, or swimming in the sea, just relaxing. The name of your favourite movie: Two for the Road and Good Will Hunting. It’s always been a tie. What's your favourite thing about Christmas? All the food.

Are you stubborn? Yes. If you could forget about one memory that you have, what would it be? Embarrassing ones. I won’t delve into them because the whole point is to forget them, lmao. If you were made out of paper, what would you do? Google what just happened lol. Do you act differently to certain people? Yeah. You have to sometimes. How I am with my college friends isn’t 100% the same as how I am with my high school friends (I switch to a different sense of humor, but otherwise it’s still all me), and both these personalities are so not how I act around family. What's your favourite sport? Pro wrestling. Your favourite tweet ever made by your favourite celebrity? The first time Punk and AJ ever tweeted each other. They were talking about human doodles and human poodles. It was WILLLLLLDDDD experiencing that as it happened haha. Did you enjoy this quiz? Sure! It was random enough for me. The name generator questions just scared me a bit. If you were on the titanic, would you be a survivor? I guess, because I’m a woman and they had that women and children rule. Where would be the weirdest place to randomly start dancing at? A bank? I dunno. What do you do when you can't sleep at night? I turn to Reddit or YouTube. 101% effective, every single night. Do you trust people easily? Yes. I can also take away that trust easily. If you could tell the whole world anything right now, what would you say? Please donate whatever you can to help out the animals in the areas affected by the Taal eruption. I wish it were this easy to yell it out to the world. Your opinion on the royals: I’m proud of Meghan and Harry, y’alls. GO DITCH ‘EM. Don’t get me wrong, I love the royal family, but what Meghan and Harry did was pretty fucking awesome, too. Why is your favourite TV show your favourite TV show? It’s not deep, it’s funny and I can rewatch every episode as many times as I want and still laugh at the same punchlines, it’s relatable, and it’s helped me through some dark times. Would you rather be the leader or the follower? Leader for tasks I know I’ll succeed in, follower for responsibilities that I know are way too big and pressing for my capabilities. What's your favourite pastime? Netflix, and my newest hobby, painting :)

The (indie) Kids Are(n’t) Alright.

[piece by Nick Southall of Stylus Magazine which has sadly been defunct since 2007; I’m reposting it here because I had to dig through the internet archive to find it]

The following was posted by one of our readers in the comments section of our recent Top 50 Singles of 2005 article. 

Posted 12/09/2005 - 08:07:34 AM by tintin1000: i hate this list. but before i get into a rant, i shall tell you all the "rules" which i relied upon to come to the conclusion that this list is a pile of steaming bullshit. (a) this is a snobby list (b) i understand that this is a list of singles, so it cannot include bands like deerhoof or anything because they don't HAVE singles, but ... (c) this is a lame attempt at justifying why you guys like top 40 chart songs ... a shoddly constructed "logical" justification of listening to top 40 songs, with the "indie mag," stylus, as a sort of buffer ... "oh -- we're really into indie music, so that means we can accept pop music from an "elevated" plane of existence or some bullshit like that. okay -- who the hell thinks that the friggin' backstreet boys write "better" songs than the mountain goats?! than the futureheads!? uh ... and sure -- the concept of r. kelly's trapt in the closet is cool, i think, but how in the hell do you distinguish which gwen stefani single is the "best" on the album? is it the originality of the song? nope? is it in the creativity? nope. is it the craftmanship? nope. is it the songwriting? nope. as far as i can tell, you guys compiled a list that should be dubbed "best singles that will get you crunked in 2005," but since you worded everything so perfectly, it sounds like there is an actual intellectual, logical reason behind the creation of the fucking whisper song. the whisper song is about fucking. since when has fucking merited any artistic credibilty? just plain, raw, primitive sex? if you guys like to dance to this shit, cool ... but don't be dumbasses and pretend that you listen to this shit because you actually think it actually has a true artistic quality to it ... damn. 

I usually try and avoid responding directly to people in the comments boxes, unless they ask a specific question about a piece or raise a factual error, because I think it’s slightly unbecoming for writers to be trawling their own work looking for flame wars, but I couldn’t help but respond to our friend tintin1000, initially with a couple of short notes in the comments box, and now here, in more length and with more thought. 

tintin1000 isn’t alone in his indi(e)gnation (I’m sorry, that’s a terrible forced pun)—you can see dozens, if not hundreds of other people spilling outraged bile into the comments boxes every week in protest at our temerity in choosing to review a country record favourably (and I’m not talking about Lambchop or Uncle Tupelo) or vote Kelly Clarkson as our single of the year ahead of, say, the latest 7” by The Ambivalent Corduroy Medical Students on Squirrel Records which features nine Canadian college graduates banging ukuleles and broken harpsichords and singing about their guinea pig’s gravestone. What’s wrong with us? Why are we pretending to like such manipulative top 40 pop shit? How could we possibly be so short-sighted as to not see the genius inherent in something like Pig On A Stick’s masterful limited edition EP, I’m Ugly, I’m Lonely, All My Friends Are Dead?!Especially when we lavish such shallow, fetishistic praise on hollow, manufactured acts. 

The thing is that Stylus has always loved pop, hip-hop and r’n’b singles, consistently voting them highly in the end-of-year singles lists over the last three years. Just look at the Singles Jukebox articles from the last 9 months—pop music is something we love and something we cover—we’ve never claimed to be an indie website any more than we’ve claimed to be an IDM website (something we used to get accused of every so often when we began). If you’re still not convinced, take a look at the Mission Statement; all we’ve ever been bothered about covering is music, not specific genres. 

So why are indieboys still so vehemently disgusted by our (un)surprising pop-centricity, our schizeclecticism, by the fact that some of us like country records and others like pop records and yet others really do enjoy Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (I’m still not entirely convinced that that particular band isn’t a complex hoax perpetrated by Derek Miller)? I’d wager, for a start, that the majority of our most vocal indieboy naysayers are probably in their late teens rather than their mid-to-late 20s, and that the music they like isn’t just a sonic preference based on what tickles the hairs in their ears in a pleasant way, but that it is a much more deep-seated culture-aesthetic choice. A choice as much about identity as music, perhaps. 

Which is fine, because adolescent cultural choices—hell, adult cultural choices too—are about identity. They’re about peer groups and aspirations and association. The music you like may well help determine the clothes you wear, the friends you keep, how you cut your hair—it’ll certainly determine which clubs or gigs you go to, and who you go with. It’s a chicken / egg conundrum, though, as to which comes first—the music or the identity. Do you like this music because of who you are, or are you making a definite effort to determine who you are and using the music as a tool to do so? Because like it or not, and whether you’re aware of it or not, your cultural choices are a signifier pointing towards who you are. 

Here are a handful of bands and what liking them says about you: 

Interpol - “I am deep, moody, urban and edgy, given to pathos and bad poetry. Please have sex with me, but don’t expect an orgasm.” 

Bright Eyes - “I have read a book about true love and am too scared to treat you badly. Please don’t have sex with me, as I will cry.” 

Embrace - “I really am in it for the music, because the public perception of my favourite band is terrible. Please have sex with me in a slightly dull, monogamous way.” 

Kompakt-style techno - “I transcend the body-mind divide by being intellectually into dancing. Please have sex with me on drugs.” 

Bloc Party - “I am very cool but not as alternative as I’d like to think, and I wish I knew more black people. Please have sex with me, but be careful not to mess-up my hair.” 

Girls Aloud - “I am a shallow pop whore. Let’s fuck! But it will be without true, meaningful emotion.” 

Arcade Fire - “I am into way more cool and obscure stuff than anyone else. Please let me say I had sex with you ages ago, before anyone else.” 

Oasis - “I am a piss-throwing troglodyte misogynist. I am going to date-rape you.”

Each of these assumptions says as much about the inferer as the inferred, if not more so. Each one is a value judgement based on cultural baggage, and everyone’s cultural baggage is different. Most internet-based discussion of music that I’ve come across deals not with what people like, but with what people dislike. What people like is a matter of assumption, some kind of unspoken test to see whether someone is cool enough to be spoken to, to be let into the secret club. You wouldn’t want someone uncool hanging around with the cool kids (on a messageboard, natch) and making them uncool by association because they like, heaven forbid, “The Whisper Song”, would you? 

Ah, “The Whisper Song.” Here’s what tintin1000 said about it: it sounds like there is an actual intellectual, logical reason behind the creation of the fucking whisper song. the whisper song is about fucking. since when has fucking merited any artistic credibilty? just plain, raw, primitive sex? This raises a whole other issue that indieboys can’t stand. Sex. It’s often been stated that indieboys are afraid to dance because they have an intrinsic “fear of the middle of the body,” a post-Victorian-era Catholic / Freudian guilt / paranoia about all things sexual which dates back, perhaps, to Morrissey’s fiercely foppish stance of asexuality and beyond, to Keats or Wordsworth or whoever, and the myth of the sexually-frustrated romantic, the idea that one’s art will be somehow purer if untainted by the dirty touch of lust. But go beyond that, go to Michelangelo sculpting David’s sensuous masculine frame; or all those countless portraits of St. Sebastian, pierced with arrows like an S&M; stunt gone awry, loincloth barely covering his genitals; all those pre-Raphaelite female nudes; every film to ever reveal more flesh than grandmother would like; to Led Zeppelin wailing about plain, raw, primitive sex and John Lennon trying to make the end of “A Day In The Life” sound like a great big musical orgasm. Very few people would question Björk’s artistic credibility, and she’s written countless songs about sex. People are rushing to proclaim Kate Bush’s Aerial a work of genius, and it’s positively dripping with eroticism. Sex is not the be-all-and-end-all of human existence, and to get too caught up in its alluring juices and scents can screw with your head (just ask Michael Douglas or any random Tory politician) but to claim that plain, raw, primitive sex has never inspired any worthwhile art is the folly of the hungry, short-sighted virgin. Pop music in particular (and The Mountain Goats and Deerhoof are as much pop music as Charlotte Church or Sisqo) is about sex. 

And of course sex is key to identity—as if I needed to say that after the assumptions about bands above. Anyone who ever wore skinny jeans or dyed their hair black did so because they wanted some of their idol’s allure by proxy, because they thought that listening to this record and wearing those shoes would get them laid. Everyone. Except me, of course, because I’m above it all. 

The problem with our intrepid hero tintin1000 is that he’s finding his identity, and is thus vulnerable to having the fragile foundations of that identity shaken. And so he sees Mountain Goats, an act he loves for their literate, melodic music made in the cottage-industry style, unadorned by commercial trappings but instead blessed with deep insight into the human condition, at number 50 on our list and is pleased, thinking, hoping and assuming that the rest of the list will continue to reaffirm his identity. Because he trusts Stylus, possibly, as someone he can talk to about these things. And there’s the fucking Ying Yang Twinz, wtf? And Gwen Stefani? And other music that is liked by the people he sees at college or in town and takes an instant dislike to for their shallow natures and unthinking ways, and it jars his assumptions about what it means to like Mountain Goats, about what it says about him when he realises what he thinks liking Kelly Clarkson says about other people. 

The thing is that once you stop worrying about what owning (and more importantly liking) a Girls Aloud record says about you, you can start taking it on its own merits, which are (generally) pretty plentiful. Something like Die Hard is a great film because it knows what it is and what it does and it executes its plan with zero faffing around—there’s no narrative fat in that film (unlike, say, the odious Goodfellas), every single event is a plot device, and there’s joy to be found in such craftsmanship, never mind the actual tangible visceral thrill of the finished article once we get past ontological rumination on the efficiency of the screenplay. Likewise Girls Aloud’s records are faultless exercises in meta-pop constructivism, not so much songs as processions of hooks and choruses with the boring, fatty verses left over for the likes of Okkervil River instead. And, of course, as with Die Hard there is the sheer physical joy of listening to them, of dancing to them, getting caught up in the beats and the insidious melodic hooks, which outweighs even the music-journalistic catnip attraction of playing spot-the-reference. 

And once you’re past the stage of crushing insecurity and aspirational identity positing, the idiocy inherent in statements like how in the hell do you distinguish which gwen stefani single is the "best" on the album? becomes clear. You distinguish your favourite (no such thing as objectivity, kids) Gwen Stefani song on Love Angel Music Baby in exactly the same manner as you would your favourite song on The Sunset Tree—by listening to the record and choosing the song that you like most, for whatever reason(s) it is that you ever like any song. Until your superego stops screaming at you that it’s bad to like Gwen Stefani though, that’s not going to happen. 

It works in stages though, this music / identity nexus. As a child one likes simple things, the multi-coloured hues of pop music perhaps, but once one senses the transition to adulthood one puts away childish things. By writing off whole areas of music for the simple reason that “it’s not the kind of thing someone like me listens to” you are, quite simply, denying yourself a whole lot of pleasures, both frivolous and profound. Malcolm X said in his autobiography that “children have a lesson adults should learn, to not be ashamed of failing, but to get up and try again. Most of us adults are so afraid, so cautious, so 'safe,' and therefore so shrinking and rigid and afraid that it is why so many humans fail. Most middle-aged adults have resigned themselves to failure.” It’s not just failing that we shouldn’t be ashamed of. A major finding in neuroscience in recent years is the extent to which our brains display advanced levels of ‘neural plasticity.’ We are not forever ‘hardwired’ for rigid modes of behaviour; we are not static ‘slaves’ to our DNA. There is a remarkable degree to which we can change ingrained patterns of thought, intention and practice. Our identities are not fixed, are not immutable—admitting that you enjoy a Britney record unironically will not destroy your future character. And that goes for an awful lot of things besides music. 

Of course this is all blatant assumption, and doesn’t mean anything at all. Except, perhaps, that you should give in to your ids, indie kids.