#got like 2 snippets of the song and soaked in the rest

[ca-d]

Sleep Token // 5.24.24 ✨

[certifiedmaidenlessblog]

Okay literally nobody asked but since I am procrastinating AND restless:

My final thoughts/ranking of the Eternal mini:

(warning this is a full on yap sesh and I have next to no knowledge of music except for the very basics feel very very free to ignore)

1. Deja vu: I have feelings for this song. So gorgeous, dreamy and ethereal. Smiling so big because this song exists blah blah. Anyway the way I thought this song would be #chillvibes from the album preview snippet but then it turned out to be #nochill kajskajsj even tho there is definitely a lethargic quality to the song. I was so gagged but despite the tables turning on me I loved it immediately. Also the very random (but very well incorporated) tabla in the bridge? Slay. Initially I was mad that this wasn't the tt but with all the melodrama and orchestral arrangement, it has a similar vibe to guilty so I get it. But this song is ten fold of what guilty wanted to be (to me, that is). And I think this song remaining as a b-side to be occasionally performed instead of it being dragged through the promotional cycle and losing all the weight and impact of the song is a good choice too (the song itself is not very promotion cycle friendly either). I can't wait to see what the choreo looks like.

2. Horizon: Very kibumcore as a lot of people have also said, I think so too!! A very unexpected sound for a taemin song but he delivered sooo well. I do wish the song was longer tho. Don't know what being the second title track on this album means as of now but it's worthy of the position I'm sure.

3. Crush: Extremely shineecore! A cute and funky little number! Got me moving! The layers in the instrumentals are neat. I got exactly what was promised on the album preview. Well executed. No other notes. Other than the funky vibe there isn't really any standout element so I might get bored of it quickly tho.

Can't decide between ranks 4 and 5 so I'm calling it a tie.

4/5. Sexy in the air: I definitely should have let my brain soak this in a bit more before complaining about it cause now I literally can't stop listening to it helpppaksnakms cause Damn... This is crazy. What am I gonna do now?? Jaksjksks My first ranking for this song was literally second last (in a derogatory way) and now here we are. Also I held off from watching the mv first because I'm a very visual creature and I get easily swayed that way so I was trying to be #unbiased or whatever. I still think that the second verse is a bit meh, specially because of the English lyrics (i don't even know why I was so pissed off by the "turn me down" that was obviously supposed to be "turn me on", it wasn't even that serious 😭) but I was definitely being too harsh and it's not even as bad as I made it out to be and it doesn't stick out enough to get in the way of me enjoying the rest of the song. The switch up after the beat change is soooo good I've been obsessed with that part (the horny choreo definitely helps :D).

The good things about this song being the title track are: it's produced by dem jointz (the production is interesting and immaculate), the mastering of this song is better than most tracks on this album, it is performance oriented/friendly, both halves of the song are tied together so neatly that honestly the beat change doesn't even seem that unnatural even if it's shocking, tm devoured this track in a way that only he can, tm freak lore continues!!!! but most importantly it's bold!!! and it's a statement!!! (instead of playing it safe like he did with guilty imo lol, musically i mean). My only real grievance with this song is probably the fact that it wasn't allowed to go full freak nasty the way it was originally envisioned to be because we live in a society or whatever. Tm was moaning and groaning and saying fuck in the studio only for it to be muffled and be barely audible on the track. The dem jointz trademark of an addictive repeated word/phrase being distorted because otherwise tm would be put in horny jail fr (horny gay jail even because its so crazy that they had another man moaning on the track like skdkksksjdkd). Some of the lyrics being altered hastily (like "turn me down" ksjsjsks).This song being called sexy in the air instead of sex is in the air kajskaksksks. Sad. Because if anyone can pull off something like this without being cringe, it's tm. But it's okay I get it. Also notably this song has one of the veeery few ethical uses of that infamous bed creak sample (by ethical i mean relevant to the song at hand in a way that maximizes the slay of the song).

4/5. Say Less: Very pretty, short and sweet, could have been longer. A solid closer for this album and definitely stands it's own ground despite being on the track list after Deja vu. Which is lowkey a feat of its own. The instrumentals are infact drowning out his voice a bit but I don't think it bothers me as much as I had feared. Reminds me of Truth a bit.

6. The Unknown Sea: I don't have particularly strong opinions on ballads but I do generally only listen to ballads if I'm already super into the idol. And I do like most of the other ballads from tm. However. He's singing his ass off here but the vocal processing.... specially in the chorus his voice sounds very tinny. When I first heard the song I thought it wasn't that big of a deal but now it is definitely getting in the way of me enjoying this song. Beautiful bridge tho, definitely the highlight of the song for me.

7. G.O.A.T.: This instrumental is so fucking nasty I'm obsessedddd. Unfortunately the instrumental might just be the saving grace of this song. I went into this track thinking I was not even gonna be able to listen to this but thankfully it's not thaaaaaat bad. But we definitely need to get tm off his rapping agenda. Even after listening to this a bunch of times it's not sitting that well with me. (Which is crazy because after first listen I thought his voice was more well suited to GOAT than SITA???) I do understand that this song was meant to be a bit tongue in cheek like yeah the goat bleating sounds are hilarious in a good way but tm is Not giving the hardass aura that he thought he was going for and um. that's enough for me to be like :/ which is such a shame cause even the arrangement of this song is so interesting. But yeah whatever this track needed vocally is not in tm's strengths so. I'll wait for someone to upload the instrumental tho so that I can download it and play it with the rest of the album jksjsksksjsjs

I think it's a good choice to drop an album that's just him coming out swinging after such a drastic career altering decision. There's no more room for regrets or dilly dallying and he's confident. Which is a good thing. Because it definitely makes the statement he wants to make. The album as a whole is interesting, all the tracks differ from each other but that doesn't take away from the cohesiveness of the soundscape of the album. There is a clear logic in the way the tracklisting was done, the transition from one song to the next makes sense (even if I can't explain it properly).

That being said, yes the production and the mixing is a bit lacking (along with the other downsides of a low budget) but I don't think sm has songs like this in their vault anymore so... You win some you lose some idk.

Overall I do see this as a win. Yapping over and out.

[skinks]

I got tagged by @rockcandyshrike to do a wee music meme post and I’m gonna follow her example and do my top 10 most RECENT repeated songs because that’s more interesting than just my top 10 repeated songs. gives it a lil summer snapshot. I find that I mostly listen to metal and prog in the winter whereas as soon as the sun is actually warm I remember funk and classical exists lmao

1. Breakwater - Release the Beast

However hard you might imagine this song goes, you’re not ready for it!!! Heard this for the first time before the Coheed show the other night, immediately recognised a part of it being the origin sample for the entire daft punk song “robot rock”. This is so insanely good, and my discovery of it coinciding with actual summer weather means I’ve been blasting it while driving around with my windows down nonstop lmao. You’re welcome fellow citizens. The beast is fucking released

2. Bilmuri - BOUTTA CASHEW

Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean I stop listening to metal and post-hxc… Bilmuri have never failed me except for the fact that they never tour the UK. The danciest tongue-in-cheek bangers this side of dance gavin dance

3. Halogen - U Got That

SPEAKING OF DANCE!! Who among us can resist a house drop when it’s this chonky. I heard this on a tiktok meme shared to tumblr that I had to do like 3 levels of googling to understand because I’m an old woman. But this song makes me actually want to go to a club for the second time ever in my crone life

4. Caroline Polachek - Caroline Shut Up

I had heard a snippet of one of her songs ages ago and it didn’t wow me, but I gave her new album a try and holy moly!! Really interesting acrobatic vocals plus lush dense intricate dramatic varied production… im in love. Even though this is actually from her first album, it’s the best example of what I like about her stuff. She’s like a mix of Bjork and 90s Madonna and Enya and Imogen Heap. And brother I’m nothing if not a Heaphead. Caroline pls come to Scotland

5. Maria Callas - O Mio Babbino Caro

I got this song stuck in my head and of course it’s so hard to sing along to a soprano aria, but I specifically love this Callas version because the way she really takes her time with the phrasing emphasises the longing of it and it makes me cry

6. bel canto - A Shoulder to the Wheel

Recently discovered there’s a name for an artistic aesthetic I have VIVID memory and nostalgia for from the mid-late 90s - the name of the aesthetic is Global Village Coffeehouse. I found a 50 hour gvc playlist on spotify and have been finding banging new music one of which is this song!! I love the propulsive synths and drums and the DRAMA… let it wash over u

7. Chris Rea - On The Beach

It’s got to be this specific single version not the slower album one! My whole life I only knew Rea as the singer of a pretty great xmas song until this April when my beloved pal added this to our Highland roadtrip playlist. If this doesn’t get you feeling like a neon-soaked sweaty lounge-lizard having a hallucinatory tango under a palm tree with a sexy extra from Miami Vice idk what will

8. Aviations - Coma

Is it really a joe skinks music post if there’s not a 10 minute prog metal song………….

I’m hoping their last two singles this year mean we have an imminent album incoming and it’s gonna SLAP as hard as the rest of their output! Aviations embody everything I love most and seek out in my prog metal; super agile clean AND harsh vocals interacting with the extreme amount of syncopation and intricacy in the instrumental arrangements. Aviations use piano in their compositions better than any other prog band I enjoy. I mean listen to this shit it’s beautiful

9. Stereophonics - Pick A Part That’s New

I had a really fun time making a playlist of songs I remember my parents always playing in my childhood, it’s full of a lot of 90s soul and electronic music and also this… whiny britpop. But it surprised me how much fantastic whiny britpop there is

10. Sumerlands - Force of a Storm

My brother introduced me to this album and it truly fucks how much they sound like an old-school Heavy Metal band while being fully contemporary. Like they truly sound like Sabbath or Iron Maiden but with modern production sensibilities. I LOVE the strength of this guy’s voice. Like if this doesn’t make you feel like a barbarian riding a winged steed and brandishing a massive sword against a dragon drawn by Frank Frazetta idk what will. Can u tell fantasising is how I process music

I will tag @shrikestrike @acuzena @lungtile @kitsune-sam @wordssometimesfail @kelsey-arts @erebones and whomstever else wants to… of course nobody has to if they don’t want

[daydreaming-in-letters]

London Rain

Part 1 

03/09/2021

Pairing: Henry Cavill x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 1,022

Warnings: fluff, nudity

Summary: Henry comes home two days early after being away filming for several weeks to surprise his lady.

A/N: I’ve been writing fan fiction for some time now, but I never felt comfortable sharing my works with anyone. Over the past months things slowly started to change and I became more active here on tumblr, and it seems that I have reached the point at which I want to put something I came up with out there. Please keep that in mind while reading and be gentle.

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms. 

This story was inspired by Heather Nova’s song London Rain. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

London rain was purring down in thick strands, playing a rhythmic melody on the roof of the cab. He paid the driver generously, more than pleased that he had delivered him at his destination safe and sound in this horrible weather. With a wave of his hand and a tired smile, he was quick to wish the man a good night. Scooping his bags up from the pavement, he hurried to get to the front door before the thick drops would soak him completely.

He hadn’t even seated the key inside the lock, when he could hear heavy steps on the other side of the door, followed by a soft whimper. As much as he loved the dog and his warm welcomes, he devoutly hoped that he wouldn’t bark in his excitement.

As soon as he had opened the door a tiny crack, Kal pressed past the barrier and jumped up, licking his face excitedly.

“Hello to you too,” Henry chuckled, taking his time to hug his buddy. Eventually he grabbed his paws, signalling him that it was time to get down again. “Now be a good boy and don’t wake the lady of the house, alright?”

Kal snorted as if he had understood, before he trotted back inside. Henry hurried to follow him, setting his bags down in the hall, throwing his coat on top of them carelessly. While he disposed of his shoes, he allowed himself a brief glance around the familiar quarters. Simply being here took such a weight of his shoulders that he felt light as a feather as he tiptoed into the living room, where he found Kal on his bed, looking up at him expectantly. 

“Sorry, buddy, it’s been a long day and there is only one thing I want to do.” His gaze wandered over to the door that separated the living room from the bedroom, making his insides clench in excitement and without further ado, he began to strip himself bare, leaving his clothes on the sofa. 

He was careful to switch off the light before he entered the bedroom, sneaking over to the bed silently. In the dim light that drifted through the curtains he could make out her familiar form on her side of the bed and finally seeing her after such a long time apart almost overwhelmed him. Tears of joy blurred his vision and he had to concentrate on her even breathing to not lose it completely. 

Carefully he pulled up the sheets and as he glided underneath, the comfortable heat of her body engulfed him, welcoming him home. Inch by inch, he scooted closer until his chest finally met her back, the familiar sensation at last making him feel whole again. One arm slowly snaking around her middle, he pulled her even closer, while her enchanting scent filled his nostrils. God, he had missed her so much, missed holding her, feeling her skin on skin. 

“You’re home.” 

He grinned, the joy of hearing her voice outweighing his guilt of waking her up by far. But instead of answering, he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, his whiskers tickling her sensitive skin.

“And you kept the stache.” 

A deep chuckle escaped his throat. How could she be so observant while she was still half asleep? He had hoped she wouldn’t notice, giving him time to get rid of the facial hair first thing in the morning. During their video calls, she had made it very clear that she wasn’t overly fond of this look, but he had prioritised getting home over getting rid of the moustache. 

“You know you’re a lucky man, right?”

His arm flexed playfully around her waist. “Because I’ve got you.” It came out more as a question than as a statement.

“Yes, that and because you are one of two people who can pull off a stache and still look incredibly handsome instead of giving me strange pornstar vibes.”

He thought about her words for a second. “One of two? Who is the other guy?” 

His tone bordering on slighted, his grip on her tightened subconsciously.

“No need to worry, Hen. It’s Tom Selleck. He’s way too old for me anyway.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he was quick to reply, but there was no chance she would believe him as even to his own ears his words seemed more than just a bit defensive.

“Yes, you were.” He could hear the cute grin on her lips that never failed to make his heart swell.

“Yes, maybe a bit.”

With a soft chuckle, she turned in his arms and suddenly he felt sorry that she had closed the curtains so neatly, making it impossible to see the beloved features of her face clearly in the faint light. She on the other hand didn’t seem to have a problem with the darkness, her palm finding his cheek with a sure movement.

“I missed you.”

Gently his hand dove into her hair, pulling her to him, until his lips softly met her forehead. “I missed you too. Terribly.”

His other hand smoothing over the middle of her back, he pulled her into him like he knew she loved. Suddenly snippets of their last call played before his inner eye, those rare moments when their longing seemed almost unbearable and made them both all whiny and soft. It had been in one of those moments that she had told him how much she missed the way he held her, caging her in with his strong arms, making her feel so secure in his embrace. And as if she remembered her words as well, she rested her cheek on his chest with a contented sigh, her fingers lazily raking through his dark fur. 

Gradually he could feel her breath even out against his skin as sleep claimed her once more. While his lips found her hair, he could sense another wave of the familiar warmth take hold of his whole body. He was home again, with her. Utterly chuffed, his eyes finally fell shut, before the steady drum of the raindrops against the window slowly lulled him to sleep as well.

Part 2

[just-leelakrus-things]

About Rocky, you didn't even watch any of his other dances and you decided to state an opinion on his ability, that makes no sense. The reason people on Astro's channel praised him is because they're fans, it would be more strange if they didn't. People on twitter don't even know him so of course they would be harsh. If you really want to see his talent watch his own choreo that he made.

Thank you for bringing some good points up. I acknowledge that I am not a huge fan of Astro or Rocky and that I just listened to their music. I’ve only seen a few videos of him in dance compilations with other dancers. Of course, I didn’t really pay attention to detail. I didn’t mean to make such a strong opinion, but it may have brewed out that way with the heat that I was feeling regarding the polar opposites.

However, I do want to bring in two points.

1) Even if they are fans, it’s okay to point out if something was... off. (Now that I’m being cautious, maybe it’s just me thinking it’s off, but considering a lot of people commented on it being bad, then it’s definitely not... on? Idk.) It’s being honest and being humble. I see a lot of comments during performances where fans say “This member looks tired. I hope she’s getting rest.” Or “I like how they rewrote the lyrics... but isn’t the rap a little awkward?” Even “they keep pumping out videos and the quality isn’t good anymore. The company should let them rest.” Like we get it. As artists, they don’t always put out the best things. One twitter fan that did a parody of the dance literally said “I’m sorry Rocky, but this had to be done”. Her Twitter bio was about Astro lol. Not saying she knows him, but she definitely knows him better than me.

Also, even if they weren’t his fans, if he did a fantastic job, anyone would praise him, fan or not. Heck. That’s how I get into new groups. I’ll be like “who is this and how do I stan?”

Again, I’m not saying his cover is bad. I’m not saying it’s good either. (Again, the polar opposites have honestly tweaked me so I can’t stand anywhere anymore.)

2) I think I should apologize because I do realize that I was stating an opinion where it was a reaction to many things, but in the process of explaining I tried to summarize too many things and not make it sound like a response? It was unclean because I just wanted to put something out. The original tweet was about “boy group style” being “agressive” and “overexaggerating”. As a female that does more contemporary, I do acknowledge it’s a harder style, especially since I’m not trained in it. I have performed hip hop and crumping and even b-boying, but it’s not my forte. That’s why I mentioned that I like how he was out of his comfort zone and that he put this content out there.

I admit. I don’t know Rocky’s style and it would take me a few days to really soak it in. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions thinking that this “agressive boy group style” is one he follows. In the video, however, he did show that style (and this “style” is what people on YouTube commented on) and I was trying to make a point that it ruined the flow of the song. He did put in his own choreo (since there are parts where the men are not part of the choreo) and they’re not completely out of place.

Again, I never meant to relay he was a bad dancer. If I seemed like I generalized, I was trying to respond to the YouTube comments saying he was “one of the best dancers of this generation” and this video was showing it. I was praising him for his sharp movements and great body control/isolation. My opinion never criticized his dancing as a whole or his entire career. I literally criticized one dance video and was responding to YouTube comments.

Going back to my main point: why the fuck are Twitter and Youtube comments polar opposites? I get Youtube may be filled with more positive comments because of the algorithm or people having the tendency to shut down haters in the comments. Why is it not the same for Twitter? I literally started using Twitter 3 months ago and it’s a genuine question. I follow accounts for multifandom (Ateez, Red Velvet, Seventeen, LOONA, Astro, Sunmi just to name a few random) but for this video, I’ve been seeing such similar comments of the facesmack emoji 🤦🏻‍♀️ or “that ain’t it sis”.

And going off this point, I really don’t see why Twitter was attacking him. I’m not questioning why there are compliments on Youtube. (Although I do comment on the extent of the comment, I do not question the purpose.) Seriously. I didn’t write paragraphs of compliments because his strong points were evident in the video. The one video. Damn. Do I need to provide time stamps off all his clean body isolation and sharp movements? Cuz at that point I might as well give time stamps of the awkward points people keep bringing up. Ain’t nobody got time for that. (Actually some people do since I’ve seen people post snippets of that prechorus part). I don’t want to copy and paste from the original post, but the YouTube comments make them look like clowns and the Tweets are starting fanwars. I didn’t want to be here for that, but I just happened to stumble upon it and I just want an explanation.

Okay. This is an essay, but I hope you read through this because I know my post this morning was messy, but I need to clean as much as possible. Again, feel free to comment.

[hashtagartistlife]

KILL YOUR DARLINGS, pt. 2 (Discarded Fic Edition) (Part 1 here) 

(A small snippet written after someone asked the group chat (I think it was Rodella) ‘hey, do you think Uryuu can’t bear to look in mirrors anymore bc he looks so much like his mom and that hurts him?’)

There’s something odd about Ishida-kun’s house, but Orihime doesn’t quite manage to put her finger on it until about the third or fourth visit.

“Sorry, Ishida-kun, could you let me know where the bathroom is…?” she asks, in between a brace of calculus problems; Ishida-kun looks up from his Japanese literature homework, a little startled, and points vaguely down the hallway.

“Oh— oh, right, it’s the first door to the left,” he says, and goes back to his book. Orihime excuses herself with a small smile.

It occurs to her while washing her hands afterwards; the reason why Ishida-kun’s house has always felt a little… off-kilter.

There aren’t any mirrors in his house at all.

(The discarded beginnings of a fic I was writing for deathberryprompts’ weekly prompt, paradise.)

There are birds of paradise sitting by her windowsill, pretty in their wrought-iron cages. A note, written in an elegant hand, is attached to the lock: Congratulations on the union. The birds are a set, a male and female; currently asleep with their brightly coloured heads bent together. Rukia’s hand itches for the key. In the quiet of the morning before everyone wakes, everything still seems a beautiful possibility.

Her trembling fingers sweep over the fabric of her dress, skitter over the handle of her sword; nobody would ever know. One twist of her wrist, a key turning in a lock, and she’d never have to see them in captivity again. A gift, from some far-flung branch of her family. Who would she be offending? Does she rightly care? She does not understand why her marriage should be celebrated by tying creatures of the sky down to a lifetime on the ground. What a terrible thing; to lose your wings. To never even realise what you’ve lost—

The key is such a slender thing to be the only obstacle between them and the endless expanse of the sky. Rukia grips it in her hand, and though she is tiny, the key is tinier still; such an easily lost thing, this tenuous bridge to freedom. It shakes as she moves it towards the lock.

(When we were busy writing irbb, the irbb writer’s chat did a thing where we rewrote a snippet of each other’s fic in our own writing style. The excerpt in italics is a scene from Jess @sequencefairy’s irbb fic, Torque, which you can find here (x). The part following is my take on that scene.)

There are always sirens at night, Tokyo is a big city, and even though Karakura is a relatively quiet part of it, Ichigo can always count on hearing the wail of some siren, somewhere. These are close, and, in his relatively extensive experience, they are police sirens. He gets up, shuffles across his bed and pulls his window open further.

They get closer still, and now Ichigo can make out the whine of an engine being pushed to it’s limit. They must be a number of blocks away still. Ichigo pulls out his phone, keeping half an ear on the noise outside and scrolls through his twitter feed. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, the Tokyo police force traffic detachment will give information about current traffic disruptions. There’s a screech of tires and Ichigo winces. His thumb pauses in its movement on his phone’s screen and everything seems to hush.

The moment hangs. Ichigo forgets to breathe.

The crunch and squeal of metal on metal is unmistakable, even at this distance. He’s already pulling on his sweater by the time the phone in the clinic rings.

________________________________________________________________

The still air of his bedroom is split by the sound of police sirens. This in itself is nothing new; living on the edge of a city as big as Tokyo, the fantasy of an undisturbed night is something he has long since discarded. But these sound closer to him than usual, and Ichigo strains to hear them. It was unusual to have a chase this close to Karakura-cho. He flings his window open and reaches for his phone.

His twitter feed reveals nothing unusual, but Ichigo stays on edge. The sirens get closer at an alarmingly fast rate, and now he can make out the whirring of the engines and the skid of tyres on asphalt that tell him they’re only a few blocks away. His phone is crushed in his palm. Ichigo knows from experience; a chase at this speed ends in only one of two ways. Voluntary surrender, or…

The screech of metal on metal tears through the sky, and Ichigo’s already gone; the phone slips from his sweaty grip to land on his abandoned bed even as the one in the clinic begins its urgent and unmistakeable song.

(The beginnings of a discarded fic I was writing for deathberryprompts’ weekly prompt, lunar.)

There is something about the moon that night. Brighter than the streetlamps that dot the streets below, less harsh than the fluorescents inside the house, she emits a soft, steady light that bleaches the surroundings of colour and makes the edges of objects glow.

(.... this was going to be a fic where it looks like Ichigo is talking to Rukia at first, but as the fic progresses the reader notices things getting weirder and weirder until at the end they realise that a) Ichigo was actually just monologuing to the moon and that b) Rukia’s been dead for ten years. (Un)Fortunately for everyone involved, my muse for this fled, so this is all there is of that.)

(Some Ryuuken/Katagiri + Uryuu introspective thing that I really want to finish, but I can’t remember where I was going with it :sadface:)

The boy’s in love.

For all that other people called Ryuuken an awful father, he’s always been adept at reading his son’s emotions; Uryuu always been far too much like Kanae for him to not be able to see every flicker of thought across his idiotically expressive face.

(The discarded beginnings of a fic I was writing for deathberryprompts’ weekly prompt, truth-bridge-knife. The ellipses indicate that there was supposed to be more writing in between, but I never quite got around to it.)

Here’s the thing: the truth is, she’s never loved him.

Oh, people supposed. If you had, you certainly wouldn’t have been the first; they never seem to understand, all these outsiders, that she’s never felt more for him than what a mentor would feel for their student, what a comrade would feel for their fellow soldiers-in-arms. The bond forged by blood and war is stronger than any covenant sealed with homework and trips to the arcade; she supposes it’s easy to confuse such a bond with love. But it’s not like he’s ever singled her out for special treatment compared to the rest of his comrades. It’s not like she ever treated him any different to Renji or nii-sama or any of the other men in her life. She loves him, of course; she loves all her friends. But she’s never been in love with him.

Here’s the thing: he’s never been more than a bridge to her; a connection back to the world that she belongs in.

.

.

.

And now, here’s the thing: truth isn’t a bridge. Truth is a knife and you can wield it in the same way, cut, cut, slash. Truth is subjective and truth is not what the Kuchiki Clan keeps and sometimes, the truth isn’t the truth, not at all, but everyone agrees that it should be the truth and they won’t listen to anything else.

.

.

.

So, here’s the thing: the truth is that he’s always never been just a friend. Love and companionship are needless essential emotions and she had both was missing both before he came into her life. It’s not like he changed her world and dried her rain; it’s not like she became his ray of light. The truth is that they’ll always never be ‘just friends’.

But here’s the thing: people don’t care. They’ve never cared and what can such a ragged, patchwork truth do to disguise the festering wound that’s opened up between them, more effective than a child’s the floor is lava game in keeping them apart? Nobody wants to read between the lines anymore and what matters is what the Kuchiki Clan’s records say. Some truths are truer than others and none are as true as the Kuchiki Clan’s truths, and there, written in her own hand, in the truest true-black ink she can find, will be her name; linked to a man she’s never wanted, not like that. And in time, when there is no more Ichigo and Rukia, that will be all that remains; just her name linked to someone else’s in true-black ink, the only truth left out of the myriads of other truths that they keep.  

(The discarded beginnings of a fic I was writing for deathberryprompts’ weekly prompt, truth-bridge-knife (can you tell I was very taken by this prompt… also that it was viciously difficult for me :’)). Truth was supposed to be Sode no Shirayuki, Bridge was supposed to be Zabimaru, and Knife was supposed to be Zangetsu.)

(Truth)

The truth is that you’ve never liked the boy. Hair like the blazing sun, and a soul equally as hot; yet what is the sun to the snow but anathema? You waited out your stint in the boy’s soulscape like a curse. In his heart, there is no room to hide, nowhere to escape or take shelter. If it rains, you get soaked; if the sun shines, you burn. You wish the boy would learn some tact; some scrap of control. You lend him your powers because you see no other choice. You never even give him your name. He never thinks to ask.

The truth is you don’t like him. He jumps into things without thinking; deliberation and calculation is second nature to you. You felt abandoned, see; when she relinquished her grip on your heart almost eagerly, handed you over to him like you’re water through her fingers and not solid ice growing through her veins.

.

.

.

(Bridge)

It surprises you how easily a bridge of a hundred years, forged from the sweat and tears and blood of shared friends, crashes and burns.

It doesn’t matter how many years have gone into its making; it doesn’t matter how steady you thought it beneath your feet. One moment of inaction is all it takes, and she’s sliding your master’s hands from her shoulders, averting her eyes. You think you can see the smoke as everything goes up in flames.

You didn’t know her then, yuki-onna. You won’t know her for another forty years.

.

.

.

(Knife)

You haven’t been called upon in years.

Even the best swords rust if they’ve been neglected. You’re not sure you can even call yourself a sword any more. A kitchen knife, maybe— maybe less than that. A butterknife. You almost envy that imposter that once took up space inside his mind, as much as you had cursed him once— he, at least, had bailed while the King was intact. You could overthrow him now, sure, but for what? There’s no point in ruling over a field of ashes. His fire has long since burned out.

(A very very short snippet of a Bleach x Percy Jackson AU)

“You’re a demigod.”

Ichigo blinks. “I know I’m good-looking, but that’s coming on a little strong, don’t you think?”

The girl with the odd violet eyes smacks him upside the head. “Not that kind of demigod, you fool,” she snaps. “I doubt an oaf like you would be familiar with Greek mythology—”

“No, I know a little.” It takes a short second to sink in, and when it does, he bolts up from his chair. “Wait, demigod as in Greek mythology demigod—??”

“Yes.”

“But, but,” he splutters, “we’re Japanese.”

She smacks him again, harder. “Don’t question it, fool!”

(idk what this is but I like it.)

In his dreams, he loses her a hundred, a thousand, a million different ways. To fire, to flood, to a sword through the gut; to creeping disease and the ravages of time. Always right before his eyes, so that he can see the life draining from her; always, always, always helpless.

None of the dreams ever hurt as much as waking up does.

(A really, really old (several years at least) highschool soccer AU fic I started bc Korea lost to Australia in the Asian Cup and I got pissed as hell lmao)

The shrill blast of the whistle cut through the morning air as twenty-two people erupted into simultaneous noises of outrage, but one voice carried clearly over the rest.

“A foul?! Which part?! Any moron could have seen that it was his foot that tripped me over!”

“Not bloody likely!” snarled player fifteen, his face slowly flushing to match his distinctive orange hair. “Look at her! I’m not even sure she’s tall enough to actually trip over my feet! If anything, she’s the one that was underfoot, not me!”

“Underfoot?” The woman’s eyes flashed dangerously as she took a step closer to player fifteen, and despite being a clear foot and a half taller, he stumbled backwards in his haste to avoid her searing anger. “I’ll show you underfoot, you great, big, bullying lout—”

“That’s enough!” Another shrill pipe of the whistle, this time right into the two players’ ears; they jumped back comically, the boy tripping over the ball and landing flat on his backside. The opposing team hid their sniggers behind clean white shirts accented in violet. “Kuchiki, Kurosaki, no name-calling on the field. Kuchiki, last I checked you weren’t the umpire. It’ll be Kurosaki’s free kick. Resume play!”

“I believe in you, onii-chan!” a sweet-looking girl with pigtails called from the stands as the orange-haired striker assumed position; the white-clad team slunk into formation, muttering darkly about the umpire— Mizuiro, wasn’t it? Fucker’s got raisins for eyes— behind his back. Player twenty-three, black-haired, violet-eyed, seething with anger, settled into a defensive stance; her opponent smirked at her lazily.

“Don’t worry, Yuzu, I got this,” he called back to the stands, but his eyes were trained on her.

Bring it, they said.

There was nothing that Kuchiki Rukia did better.

________________________________________________________________

Half time at the annual ‘friendship’ match between Karakura High and Seireitei Academy brought with it a frustrating score of nil-all, multiple yellow cards, numerous fouls and several inappropriate insults hurled across the field. The umpire for the first half had narrowly managed to avoid an angry Seireitei Academy mob, slipping away into the Karakura High stands before blood could be drawn. The game so far had been tight; the two teams were evenly matched, and, as such games tended to go, had been getting increasingly dirty with time.

(Very old Ichiruki sort of camp counsellors AU I was writing based on some of my own experiences with mentoring at camps)

“We are going to annihilate you.”

A perfectly acceptable sentiment in team sports, had it not been for the fact that currently, their teams were made up of borderline terrified seventh-graders on their first highschool camp. Kuchiki Rukia brandished a finger in his direction, and Kurosaki Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“In your dreams,” he retorted, spinning his makeshift paddle in one hand and looking for all the world like a full-grown adult to their coterie of kids. The mischievous gleam in his eyes, however, could only belong to a teenager, and a reckless, headstrong, seventeen-year-old one at that. “Bring it, Queen midget.”

“For god’s sake, you’re leading kids. Do you have no shame?” Ishida Uryuu interjected from the side, rolling his sleeves up methodically and pushing his glasses up his nose. Behind him, Inoue Orihime smiled apologetically, ushering yet more seventh graders along behind her. Rukia and Ichigo looked at each other.

“Not really,” they both replied, before turning to their frightened looking protegees.

“Besides, you guys want to win too, don’t you?” Rukia asked, flashing a grin that was all teeth. There was a short silence.

One brave soul nodded.

________________________________________________________________

Peer mentoring as a concept had existed for a while now in education; it developed leadership and organisational skills for the mentor, helped younger students settle into the rhythm of school life with minimal discomfort and fostered a sense of unity and mutual respect throughout the school. A beneficial arrangement all around, many schools had soon adopted the procedure of assigning an older peer mentor to a group of younger students. Karakura high was no exception; their ten-week peer mentoring program in which students in their twelfth and final year of schooling each mentored a group of roughly five seventh-graders was generally acknowledged to be the best leadership program around for miles, and looked stellar on any resume, reference letter or college application one cared to write.

So there was no way in hell that Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia, two of the most promising students of the 2015 graduating class, was about to pass that chance up.

(Old hichiruki oneshot set straight after the fullbring reunion)

He’s taller.

Kuchiki Rukia is used to being small; used to having men and women tower over her day and night, used to fighting and defeating people and monsters that far outstrip her in size. Her lack of physical presence is something she is long accustomed to, such that she barely gives a passing thought to size differences between her and her opponents these days. People who are taller and bigger than her have long since ceased to unnerve her, given how she has been positively diminutive all her life—

So then why am I so acutely aware of the fact that he’s taller than me?

Not just taller than her, no; taller than before, specifically. Silently, Rukia berates herself; human males grow, it’s not as if she didn’t know this. Did she think Ichigo would forever remain the angry fifteen-year-old she had first transferred her powers to? Of course it was natural that he’d have gained a few inches since she’d last seen him, but for some reason, the fact that he is notably taller and broader than when she left him is really hitting home at this moment.

Maybe it’s because of his proximity to her. Suddenly flushing, she realises how close they are standing; attempting to hide her flaming blush (it’s ridiculous, this is Kurosaki Ichigo, why would she be blushing—), she coughs and takes a deliberate step away from him.

.

.

.

“I’m not your princess.”

He cocks his head at her, like a disturbing, overlarge bird. “No?” he hisses, eyes glinting in the half-dark. He grins a grin that’s all teeth, and his tongue curls out and runs across his bottom lip. He slams a fist into his palm as though he’s figured something out. “Queen, then. There, that fits better, anyway. You’re not some timid bitch under someone else’s rule. You only bow for the King, don’t you?”

“I’m not your Queen either,” she says steadily. Her voice does not betray her inner turmoil, and for that she is thankful. “And I don’t bow to anyone—“

The hollow snorts. “Tell that to the King,” he says, getting up from the bed. Rukia smothers her instinctual reaction to take a step back.

(Ichiruki Snow Queen AU, version 1: Ichigo dies in the war with Yhwach, Rukia singlehandedly ends the Thousand Year Blood War, goes insane with grief, turns the Seireitei into a desolate icy wasteland and flees to the snow fields with Ichigo’s body, which she encases in ice and basically becomes a hermit ice queen protecting the corpse of her loved one. Several hundred years later, a reincarnated Ichigo comes to the Seireitei, wonders why everything is so shitty and cold, and decides he’s going to go give this ‘Ice Queen’ a piece of his goddamn mind. He likes summer, ok?)

The thousand year blood war ends like this:

Kurosaki Ichigo falls, blood spurting from a wound that not even Inoue can close. Unohana, who might yet have saved him by dint of accumulated centuries of medical knowledge, lies a lifeless corpse in the bottommost floor of Muken. Urahara is too far away on the battlefield to implement any of his clever schemes, and his father is god knows where, doing god knows what. Aizen watches his demise with passive eyes. Yhwach swings his broadsword, and blood trails from its edge in scarlet droplets – scatters on the soil like rain. He laughs, Kurosaki Ichigo falls, and dooms the entirety of the Seireitei to fall with him.

Yhwach laughs, because he can see it now, his victory, his victory, Soul Society his to rule and a realm of endless carnage that would ensure he never lose the light– but all those eyes and that almost infinite power of his could not have shown him what came next.

It is not Kurosaki Ichigo he has to worry about. It is a tiny shinigami, not even worth making the special war potentials list, barely a foot soldier before her promotion to lieutenant a year prior to the battle. She is the one who ends the thousand year blood war, she and her zanpakutou spirit and the mindless energy that comes with the severance of a fate ordained by a higher being than he could have ever imagined.

For if the Soul King evades his prophetic eyes, what hope does he have of perceiving the fabric of destiny woven by a power greater and more terrible than ten Soul Kings combined?

The moment he felled Kurosaki Ichigo was the moment he sealed his mortal fate. The last thing Yhwach sees before frost encases him is a blinding pillar of white annihilating half of the Seireitei.

(Ichiruki Snow Queen AU, version 2: Sode no Shirayuki gets jealous of the ‘unbreakable bond’ between Rukia and Ichigo, and also she thinks that Rukia’s kind, giving heart is basically barring her from true greatness, so she blankets the Seireitei in an eternal winter, erases Rukia’s memories and kidnaps her to some ice castle on the edge of a cliff, so she can train her to be the Queen of the universe that Shirayuki knows she can be. Ichigo, predictably, is having None Of That Shit, thank you very much.)

Winter comes upon the Seireitei without warning that year.

Softly, quietly, almost without anyone noticing, the first snow comes, blanketing the eaves of the nobles’ and the commoners’ houses alike, the cold winds starts stealing into the alleyways and shakes the last of the autumn leaves off the trees, creeping frost scurries along the pavement, filling their cracks–

and slowly, imperceptibly, the unfurling of something colder than the winter, pale violet eyes blinking open, waking to the world it observes with dispassionate detachment before deciding–

something was wrong.

.

.

.

She looks out the window, to the blizzard just starting up outside; he is still there, waiting in the snow.

“Who is he, Shirayuki?” she asks later, when it is just the two of them and any cries of her name— Rukia, Rukia— are drowned out by the wind whipping through the corridors. “He burns like the sun.”

The tiniest furrowing of Shirayuki’s brow, an almost imperceptible tremble in her hands— but then she blinks, and it is gone.

“I know not, and I care even less,” she says, face smooth and cold. “The sun is no friend to the snow, Rukia.”

(...Some kinda timeskip!feels, I suppose?)

It’s been 17 months, not that he’s been counting.

Or maybe he has; and who would blame him? After all the shit that happened to him two winters ago, the peaceful life he’s living now seems almost like a dream. He lives in constant fear—

Fear?

— fear of it disappearing, like so much smoke through his fingers, so is it any wonder he keeps count, to this day? You know, kind of like those joke signs about workplace safety. It has been X days since our last nonsense. Yeah, that’s definitely what it was. Every day that he adds to his mental tally reassures him—

does it

— reassures him, and one day there’ll be so many days that he’ll have lost count. One day the days that he’s had to count will outnumber the days that he hasn’t counted, and he looks forward to that day with a reverence bordering on fanaticism; he can’t wait till he can do away with the tally altogether, until he’s secure enough in his normal

mundane

life that he no longer has to count every new day like an

disappointment

achievement. Because that day will come, he tells himself, gritting his teeth, curling his hands into fists, that day will come when he no longer leaves his windows open at night and leans into the cold snap of the frost; that day will come when he doesn’t jerk away from butterflies and look the other way when he sees Inoue or Chad or Ishida running down the corridors, skipping class. The tally is only one part of it, the easiest part of it all; and that day will come when he can take it down from his mental walls and throw it in the trash. But for now, for now—

Seventeen months and a day, since he last saw spirits.